Nox took off his brown gloves made of soft calfskin and looked at the back of his right hand. His Mark, which only three years ago had looked like a circle, now formed a thin crescent. 'What bad luck...' he thought.
Like every Marked person, Nox was born with a Mark in the shape of a full moon. And like everyone else, he knew that when the shape of it was reduced to a new moon, it would mean his end.
Completely exhausted, lying on the barren slope, Nox thought, 'So this is how it ends.'. He was calm; the fatigue was taking away the clarity of his mind.
Nearby, the fire was slowly dying out, everything was fading, just like the fire in his heart.
He had just wanted to walk a short distance to get more fire wood, and yet he was failing to muster the strength to get back to his makeshift camp after collapsing on the way back.
He reminded himself that with only a few days left to live, he mustn't forget to untie his horse from the branch of the only tree in this cursed land. He hoped at least the horse would make it out alive. It would be disastrous if it got lost or returned here looking for its rider.
Many Marked people lived to an old age, not everyone used the Power of the Moon daily to such an extent that it affected their vitality significantly.
Unlike them, Nox had no power.
He cynically smiled to himself, thinking of fate's twist, and remembered how, over the past three years, his Mark was rapidly fading.
'What an irony', he thought. 'If only I had true Lunar power, at least the end of my life would be a little easier.'
Nox had always considered his Mark to be incredibly ugly, a brown circle the color of a muddy puddle.
To someone who had never encountered the Marked, it might have seemed like just a normal birthmark.
All his and his brothers' Marks were completely useless.
'Oh Moon, you gave us some real crap', Nox muttered under his breath.
Out of four brothers, only two were left: him and his youngest brother Abram.
Like Nox, Abram also had the same brown Mark in the same place, but on the top of his left hand. Luckily, his Mark, unlike Nox's, was completely intact and still looked like a filled circle.
For now.
Each of the brothers had started to lose strength at some point, as if one by one they were falling ill with some strange disease. Now there were only two left.
Or rather, one.
Nox already thought of himself as dead.
The greatest support for the family had been their father, Karn, who was also Marked. His broad chest was adorned not with the brown but with a bright red Mark in the shape of three-quarters of the moon instead.
His name was well known because he was a great swordsman. It was thanks to him that his family was able to live a quite comfortable life. His father mostly relied on his own skills, rarely using the power of the Mark, unlike other warriors, who, despite their young age, had already reduced their power to a half-moon.
All swordsmen had red Marks, and Nox always thought that the warrior Red class was probably the best thing that could happen to you.
But if you didn't have too much bad luck, you could be born with a blue Mark as a healer instead.
Nox had never heard of anyone who had brown marks like him and his brothers.
He hoped that he would have enough strength to write a final letter to his family. His beloved father and Abram had supported him as best they could. Nox thought about how much he would give now to return to his family. To be able to curl up in the arms of his father and brother. He loved them so much and missed them terribly!
Nox felt tears begin to well in his eyes. At first, it was just a single drop, which he wiped away with his right thumb, but soon the floodgates opened, and streams of tears spilled down his face, soaking into his shirt.
'At my old age, I have turned into a softie', he thought.
Old age?! But he was only in his twenties! Yet, in his body, he felt much older, he had no strength left. He often rested, feeling as if he were at least forty years older than he really was.
Nox cried from longing and the injustice of fate. If he had known that everything would be for nothing, he would have never left his family.
Oh, if only he could go back in time just to slap himself for making that stupid decision...