Chapter 4 – The Curse of the Spirit
The night wind cut through the ruined courtyard like a whispering blade.
Tommy lay motionless on the cold ground, breath ragged, his body trembling from the storm that had passed through him.
His vision flickered. Every breath seared his lungs.
Then—pain.
Raw, tearing pain, as though molten metal had been poured into his veins.
He gasped and looked down.
Lines of light crawled across his chest—thin golden threads spiraling into intricate sigils that pulsed with a rhythm not his own. They glowed faintly beneath his skin, like embers trapped under flesh.
He touched one. The mark burned back, forcing him to stifle a cry.
What is this?
A curse? A punishment from that… thing?
He staggered to his knees, the world spinning around him. The broken sword hilt lay nearby, still faintly glowing with the same ethereal light that had birthed the beast.
He reached for it—but as his fingers brushed the hilt, a violent tremor surged through his arm. The glow faded, swallowed by darkness.
Tommy clutched his chest, panting. "No one can see this," he muttered. "Not yet."
He wrapped his torn shirt tightly, concealing the marks, and stumbled back toward the main village.
The night had grown still—too still. Even the crickets seemed to avoid the path he walked.
The Return
By dawn, the training yard had already filled with murmurs.
Word had spread fast—Tommy Oliver, the failed disciple, had vanished after the ceremony and been seen wandering near the sacred grounds.
As he stepped into the courtyard, heads turned. Eyes followed him—mocking, curious, accusing.
The Meridian Awakening had already marked him as a cripple; now suspicion followed like a shadow.
"Look who's finally back," sneered Johansson, arms crossed. "Did the heavens give you a pity rank, trash?"
Tommy said nothing. His face was pale, but his eyes—darker than before—held an unfamiliar stillness.
Behind Johansson, Emily smirked. "Maybe he went begging to the mountain spirits for a miracle."
Her laughter was soft but sharp as glass.
Even Zack snorted, glancing away to hide his grin.
Tommy's fists clenched. For a heartbeat, the golden marks under his skin throbbed, faintly visible through the fabric.
He took a slow breath. He would not give them the satisfaction.
"Where were you, Oliver?" demanded Elder Rhain, stepping forward. His voice was heavy, old, and suspicious. "The sacred grounds were sealed last night. No one was permitted beyond the gate."
"I was… training," Tommy replied.
"Training?" Rhain's gaze hardened. "Then explain the shattered stones near the altar. And this—"
He held up a fragment of crystal that shimmered faintly white. "This came from the relic vault. Only an Elder has the right to touch it."
A ripple of gasps spread through the disciples. Johansson grinned wider. "So the cripple decided to become a thief."
"That's not true," Tommy said, his voice steady despite the rising fury in his veins. "I didn't steal anything."
"Lies!" Emily snapped. "You disappeared the same night the vault's energy was disturbed. Admit it."
Rhain's eyes narrowed. "You will remain silent until we decide your punishment."
Tommy looked at the elders—faces that once offered him guidance now filled with disdain.
He swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat.
No one will believe me… They already buried me in their eyes.
Behind the crowd, Kimberly pushed forward, eyes full of worry. "Elder Rhain, please. Tommy would never—"
"Enough!" The old man's shout silenced the courtyard. "You defend him because of childish attachment. That makes your words worthless."
Kimberly froze. Her lips trembled, but she didn't speak again.
Johansson chuckled. "You hear that, Oliver? Even your little savior can't save you now."
Tommy's shoulders shook once—then stilled.
He raised his gaze, meeting Johansson's with an intensity that made even the arrogant youth falter for an instant.
You'll regret this.
The Accusation
The council chamber smelled of incense and old wood.
Tommy stood before the long table of elders, the cracked sword hilt resting beside him as evidence.
Each elder's expression was the same—doubt, contempt, and fear of the unknown.
Elder Rhain placed his hands behind his back. "You claim ignorance, yet a sacred relic responded to your touch. Do you know what that means?"
Tommy shook his head slowly.
"It means your body carries an anomaly," another elder said. "A corruption. If left unchecked, it could taint the entire clan."
"Or," Johansson's father added coldly, "he's been possessed."
The words hit like a hammer.
Tommy's pulse quickened; the golden light stirred beneath his skin again, faintly visible at his neck.
"I am not possessed," he said, voice rough. "I felt something—yes. But it wasn't evil."
Rhain slammed his cane. "Enough! You are no longer qualified to speak of the divine."
The elders conferred in murmurs.
Kimberly waited outside the chamber, wringing her hands, tears threatening to spill.
Finally, Rhain turned back. "Until the truth is known, you are suspended from all training and confined to your quarters. If any evidence arises that you have stolen or corrupted clan relics… you will be exiled."
Tommy bowed stiffly. "Understood."
Johansson smiled from his seat in the back. "Enjoy your room, cripple."
Tommy ignored him and turned away.
Nightfall
Back in his small wooden hut at the edge of the compound, silence pressed heavily.
He sat on the floor, staring at his hands.
When he exhaled slowly, the air trembled. The golden sigils on his chest flickered faintly through the cloth.
What did that beast do to me? Why can I feel energy even stronger now?
He closed his eyes and drew a slow breath, attempting the basic Meridian Breathing Form—a technique he had failed countless times.
But this time, the Aether moved.
A thread of warmth curled from his core to his fingertips. It burned, wild and unstable, yet alive.
His eyes snapped open. "I can feel it…"
He repeated the breathing pattern, slower, deeper. The light under his skin brightened, weaving through his veins. The air around him vibrated faintly, stirring dust from the floor.
Then, suddenly—pain.
A pulse tore through his body like lightning. He collapsed forward, gasping. The marks dimmed but did not vanish.
When he looked up, his reflection in the small bronze mirror caught his breath.
For just a heartbeat, his pupils glowed gold—like molten sunlight.
The Revelation
A soft knock sounded at his door.
"Tommy?" It was Kimberly's voice—hesitant, worried.
He hesitated, then opened it slightly. The girl stood there clutching a bundle of herbs.
"I heard what the elders decided," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I tried to speak for you."
"I know," he said quietly. "You shouldn't get involved. They'll just—"
"I don't care what they say." Her voice shook with emotion. "I know you. You'd never steal. Please don't shut everyone out."
He turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "It's better if they think I'm guilty. At least then they'll stop expecting anything from me."
"Tommy…" She reached out, touching his arm—and froze.
Her eyes widened. "Your skin… it's glowing."
He looked down. Too late.
The sigils had flared again under the touch.
Kimberly stepped back, eyes wide with awe and fear. "What is that?"
"I don't know," he said quickly, pulling his sleeve down. "Please—don't tell anyone."
But before she could answer, the door slammed open.
Johansson stood there, flanked by Zack and Emily. "Well, well. What do we have here? Hiding your little curse, Oliver?"
Tommy's heartbeat thundered. The marks pulsed in rhythm.
"Get out," he said.
Johansson laughed. "Or what? You'll blind me with your cripple's glow?"
Zack snickered. "Maybe he's mutating."
Emily smirked. "Disgusting."
Kimberly stepped between them. "Leave him alone!"
Johansson brushed past her roughly. "I want to see what you're hiding."
He grabbed Tommy's shirt—and that was the mistake.
The moment the fabric tore, golden light exploded across the room.
The markings surged like living fire. The air trembled. Johansson stumbled back, shielding his face.
"W-what the hell—!"
Tommy's breath came in sharp bursts. His vision narrowed; his heart roared in his ears. The energy inside him wanted out.
"Tommy—stop!" Kimberly cried. "They'll see!"
He blinked—then forced the power back down with sheer will. The glow faded, leaving only silence.
Johansson's face twisted in fury and fear. "You… you monster."
He turned and stormed out, dragging Zack and Emily with him.
Kimberly stood frozen, staring at Tommy.
"Your eyes…" she whispered. "They're gold."
Tommy closed them, trembling. "Then it's true," he murmured. "Something inside me changed."
Kimberly's voice was small. "Is it… really a curse?"
He looked at his hands. "I don't know. But if it is…"
He opened his eyes, and the faint golden hue lingered.
"…then I'll use it before it consumes me."
Outside, the night wind carried distant murmurs through the trees—the whisper of a power awakening, unseen by the clan but soon impossible to ignore.
Kimberly gasped as Tommy's eyes flashed gold for a second—before everything went dark.