The world's reaction to the golden serpent was loud. Chaotic. Frenzied. But not everyone was surprised.
Lucian Vale, however, wasn't among the screaming masses. He didn't gasp at the footage. He didn't call it CGI or an illusion.
Because when he saw the runes in the sky, he recognized one of them.
And it recognized him.
---
London, England — March 18, 2025, 4:06 AM
The silence in Lucian's flat was unnatural, deeper than the kind one found late at night. No ticking clock. No traffic outside. Even the faint buzz of electricity had dimmed. The world outside his windows remained dark and still, like the city was holding its breath.
He sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor, surrounded by a disorganized mess of books, sketches, stone fragments, and old relics. On the floor in front of him was the glowing tablet—the one he'd dug up in Syria three years ago, cataloged, and watched sit lifeless in the archives ever since.
Until now.
Its symbols shifted like molten gold, reforming themselves again and again in a sequence he couldn't keep up with—except one rune kept repeating. A serpent in a ring, tail in its mouth.
The ouroboros.
He looked down at the mark that had appeared on his palm. It was identical. Faintly glowing, as if responding to the tablet.
He reached out slowly and placed his hand against the artifact.
There was no flash of light. No dramatic surge of power.
Just a sound—a whisper in a language older than written thought. He couldn't understand it. Not entirely. But fragments struck him like memories he never lived.
> "Bound in silence… born in flame… the chosen shall awaken the sealed name…"
His head snapped back. The whisper vanished.
Lucian blinked rapidly, gasping. The room was still.
But something inside him had shifted.
---
Meanwhile — Hidden Temple in the Sahara
A thousand miles away, beneath the sands of northern Africa, an ancient ruin trembled. For centuries it had remained buried, protected by spells no mortal could see.
Now those seals shattered like glass.
An obsidian sarcophagus cracked open from the inside. Dust poured out. And from the darkness, a pair of violet eyes opened.
The figure within stepped forward—cloaked in ancient linen, bearing tattoos that pulsed with gold.
She looked to the sky, sensing the power stirring across the world.
"The Herald has returned," she whispered. "The gods are stirring. And war follows."
---
Washington D.C. — NSA Black Site Omega-12
"Play it again," Agent Lynn scowled.
The footage looped: the golden serpent gliding through Tokyo's skyline, phasing through clouds, shimmering with glyphs that flickered in and out of reality.
"Freeze. Zoom in. There. That symbol."
The technician enlarged the image, isolating the ouroboros rune glowing on the serpent's chest.
Another voice piped up from the back. "Same symbol was seen at the Nazca site, hours before the event. Carved into stone that was previously blank."
Lynn turned to the director. "Sir… this is coordinated. These aren't hallucinations. We're looking at an intelligence acting on a global scale."
The director rubbed his face, then nodded. "Initiate Protocol Titan. Alert all Mythborne Watch targets. The ones with marked ancestry."
Lynn hesitated. "You think this is the real thing?"
"No." The director stared grimly at the screen. "I think it's worse."
---
Back to Lucian
Lucian stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, shirtless, staring at the mark on his palm. It was faint now, like a cooling coal, but still there.
In the reflection, something flickered behind him—just for a moment.
He spun.
Nothing.
But the air felt charged, like a thunderstorm was forming inside the walls.
He stepped back into the living room, only to find every artifact he owned—statues, scrolls, even a broken Egyptian scarab—glowing with faint pulses of light. Low sounds began to hum from them. Chants? Whispers? Heartbeats?
He pulled his phone out, opened the recorder, and began documenting.
"Subject: Mythquake Event, Day One," he muttered, pacing. "Personal impact—extreme. Possible resonance with artifact thirty-seven. Symptoms include hallucinations, mild auditory distortions, and… symbolic marking on skin."
He paused.
"No, not hallucinations. They're real. They're all reacting to the same event. I think the tablet triggered something… or maybe I did."
He looked around. The hum intensified.
Then, without warning, a voice echoed in his mind—not from the room, but from inside his skull.
> "You are not the first… but you are among the last."
Lucian staggered, clutching his head. "What the hell—?!"
The voice continued, calm and ancient.
> "The Veil thins. The doors open. You are marked, Mythborne. The threads of fate pull you forward."
Lucian gritted his teeth. "What does that even mean?"
But the voice was gone.
---
Elsewhere — South Korea, Seoul
A young woman sat in front of a shrine built into the mountainside. Her name was Seo Yena, and she had known since birth that the world was more than it seemed.
Now, the sky had confirmed it.
A tiny bronze tiger amulet on her necklace had begun glowing after the serpent appeared. And in her dreams, something had begun chasing her—a beast of ice and shadow. She knew what she had to do.
"The legends… they were never stories," she whispered.
She stood, staring down the mountain.
"I must find the others."
---
Lucian's Flat — Just Before Dawn
Lucian didn't sleep.
He stared at the sky outside, half-expecting the serpent to return.
But something far stranger happened.
The stars shifted.
It was subtle, but clear. A constellation—one that didn't exist on any modern chart—appeared for just a few minutes before vanishing.
He scribbled it down frantically, drawing the shape.
Three stars forming a triangle. A fourth cutting across it like a spear.
Then, the same symbol burned itself into the back of his notebook without him touching it.
Lucian didn't feel fear.
He felt clarity.
He now understood.
The world wasn't changing.
It was waking up.
And so was he.