Aria barely touched the mark when this weird, electric feeling shot through her fingers and zipped down her arm like lightning. She jumped back with a cry, but it was too late.
The mark glowed.
Bright red light pulsed from the symbol, like it had come to life. Then came the pain.
Hot and crushing, it struck her chest like molten fire. With a gulp for air that felt too thick to breathe, she fell to her knees. Her ribs were gripped by her hands. Colors were melting and smearing all around her, blurring her eyesight. She shouted as she buried her fingers into the chilly stone floor.
Something had awakened.
She wasn't alone in her mind anymore.
Flashes—no, memories—rushed into her head so fast she couldn't think.
Fire. Endless fire, roaring like it was alive.
Blood—black and silver—spilling across white snow.
Wolves. Dozens of them. Howling. Snarling. Eyes glowing like stars.
And at the center: a lone figure, wrapped in shadow, a glowing crescent and jagged ring etched on their hand.
Then came the eyes. Silver. Not human. Not animal.
They stared right into her soul.
A voice followed—deep and rough like thunder cracking through stone:
"You are marked."
Shuddering, Aria fell to her side. She continued to tremble, but the pain abruptly stopped as soon as it appeared. Sweat trickled down her cheeks. Her skin felt strange, like something had moved inside of her and was unsure of how to return.
She inhaled sharply and raised herself up on her elbows.
What just happened?
What did I see?
The flashlight lay nearby, its beam flickering against the wall. Her hand reached out, still shaking, and tilted it toward her arm.
That's when she saw it.
The mark.
It glowed just beneath her skin—faint, but real. A crescent moon inside a jagged ring, etched above her left elbow. It wasn't drawn. It wasn't a tattoo.
It was part of her now.
Like it had been carved into her blood.
She stared at it, heart racing.
"No," she whispered.
The mark pulsed gently. Like it heard her.
The air in the chamber felt thicker, the silence heavier. The cave seemed to lean in, listening. Watching. As if something else was waiting.
Then—
"Aria! Are you down there?!"
A voice. Sharp with panic, calling from above.
She blinked, vision clearing. More voices followed, faint but getting closer.
Someone had seen her fall.
It was like a slap of adrenaline. Her ears pounded as she retreated from the glowing sign. Her eyes never left the mark, even as she shouted back:
"I'm here! I'm okay—I think!"
She wasn't sure she believed it.
Ropes dropped into the pit. Flashlight beams swept through the dust and locked onto her.
"Hang on!" one of her teammates called. "We've got you!"
She didn't remember grabbing the rope. Hands pulled her up, her legs climbed without thinking. The glowing chamber faded behind her—like a dream. Or a warning.
When she finally reached the surface, smoke still painted the sky orange. Ash fell like snow. Flames crackled in the trees, but rescue crews were pushing them back. Sirens howled in the distance.
Aria staggered to her feet.
People rushed toward her. Some hugged her. Others asked questions.
But she felt it. A pulse inside her chest. Like a second heartbeat.
The mark had changed something.
It had chosen her.
And this was only the beginning.
Red and white lights strobed across the clearing as firefighters moved like shadows between trees, spraying foam and shouting commands. Someone handed Aria a warm drink. Tea or soup—she couldn't tell. She wrapped a thermal blanket around her and sat near base camp.
Her hands were still shaking.
All around her, people buzzed. Officials asked questions. Medics checked her vitals. A few friends whispered nearby:
"She just vanished…"
"Fell straight through the ground..."
She gave simple answers. "I'm okay. I don't think I hit my head. I didn't see where the fire started."
But her thoughts weren't with them.
They were still in that underground room, staring at the symbol. The one now burned into her arm.
She pulled her jacket sleeve down to hide it. No one had noticed. Not even the medics.
And she didn't want them to. Not yet.
Not until she understood what it meant.
You are marked, the voice had said.
But by what?
A shout rose nearby—someone had found another hole in the ground, near the edge of the camp. People were running to block it off, trying to figure out if it was natural or not.
Aria stared without really seeing.
Then a familiar voice broke through.
"You okay?"
She turned.
Jordan stood there, his camera hanging from his neck. One side of his face was streaked with ash. His usual grin was gone.
He looked serious. Tired.
Aria nodded. "Yeah. I think so."
He crouched beside her. "They said you fell into a cave?"
She hesitated. "Yeah. I didn't even see the ground open. One second I was running, then—bam."
Jordan gave a low whistle and raked a hand through his soot-covered hair. "You're lucky."
She gave a weak smile. "That's what they say."
But she didn't feel lucky.
She felt… watched.
Even now, with people and lights and noise all around her, the feeling lingered—like unseen eyes were fixed on her. Not hostile. But expectant.
Like something was waiting.
Jordan nudged her arm. "You sure you're okay? You're pale."
"I just need a minute," she muttered.
He nodded. "I'll get you more water."
As he walked off, Aria looked down at her sleeve again.
Underneath, the mark still glowed—soft, steady, unseen by anyone else.
But she felt it.
Like a string pulling at her. Leading somewhere far away.
Even with her eyes closed, she saw them:
The silver eyes.
The wolves.
The fire.
The shadowed figure at the center.
Not just a memory.
A warning.