The villagers had retreated to their homes. Mara tended the wounded. Torches burned low in the wind, their flames flickering against the cracked stones of Lioren's square. But Elara remained kneeling beside Lucien long after the others stepped back, afraid to move even an inch.
Lucien's breathing steadied but did not return to normal. He rested with one knee in the mud, head bowed, as if holding himself together required more strength than he had left.
"Lucien," Elara whispered, her fingers wrapped around his hand. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
He blinked slowly, raising his gaze to her. In the orange glow of the burning carts, his eyes shone—not the sharp crimson of anger or battle, but the dim ember of exhaustion.
"It's nothing," he said.
Elara frowned. "Please don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Pretend you're invincible."
Lucien's lips curved with the faintest hint of strained humor. "I never claimed invincibility."
"You didn't need to," she murmured. "You act like pain can't touch you."
He didn't answer.
Because he knew she was right.
Mara approached carefully, leaning on her walking stick. "He used more magic than his body is meant to contain. The shadow you see him wield… it is not a natural ability."
Lucien shot her a warning look.
But Mara continued, voice unwavering. "It comes with a cost."
Elara's stomach tightened. "What cost?"
Lucien pushed himself upright, brushing mud from his cloak. "We need to move. Discussing ancient curses won't protect us tonight."
Elara followed him quickly, refusing to let him shut her out. "If your curse is hurting you, I have a right to know."
He paused.
And for one brief moment, Elara saw something she had never expected in him—
not anger,
not impatience,
but conflict.
He turned away.
"Later."
"No," Elara insisted. "Now."
Lucien's shoulders tensed. Mara gave Elara a small, encouraging nod.
The truth wanted to be spoken.
Finally, Lucien exhaled, slow and weary.
"My curse," he said, "was not meant to be survived."
Elara staggered back a step. "What does that mean?"
"It was designed," Lucien said quietly, "to consume. Not instantly. Slowly. Over centuries. A blade carved through the soul."
Elara felt the blood drain from her face. "So every time you fight—"
"It speeds the decay," Mara said softly.
Lucien didn't deny it.
Elara felt her throat tighten painfully. "And the bond? Does it… make it worse?"
Lucien finally looked her in the eyes.
His answer was soft. And terrifying.
"The bond is slowing it."
Her breath caught.
"For the first time in centuries," he said, "the curse hesitates. Because of you."
Elara sank onto a broken cart beside her, gripping the wood to steady herself.
"Lucien… you should have told me."
He shook his head. "Knowing would not change the truth."
"But it changes how I see you," she whispered.
He looked away again.
Not to hide, but because he didn't want her to see how deeply the moment affected him.
Mara cleared her throat gently. "The bond ties your fates together. If his curse returns at full strength, it will pull at your life as well."
Lucien stiffened. "Mara—"
"Elara deserves to know," the old woman insisted.
Elara pressed a trembling hand to her glowing mark. "Then I'm in danger too?"
"Yes," Mara said. "But you were always in danger, child."
Lucien stepped closer, his presence calming but heavy with warning. "We leave the village in one hour. The priests will regroup. Their god feeds on failure—they will come back stronger."
Elara stood, wiping her palms on her cloak. "Then we leave. Together."
Lucien nodded once—an uncharacteristically solemn agreement.
But the moment shifted abruptly.
A cold wind slithered through the square, snuffing out several torches. Chickens clucked nervously. Dogs howled from their pens. Even the marsh insects went silent.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Lucien's hand snapped out, stopping Elara before she moved.
"Something's wrong," he murmured.
Mara's eyes widened. "Not now… not after all this…"
A long crack splintered across the sky—not thunder, but something far deeper and older. The remaining torches flickered violently, then extinguished entirely.
Elara felt her mark burn.
Not in warning.
In recognition.
The shadows around Lucien trembled.
"Elara," he said, voice suddenly sharp, "stay close."
"I am close."
"Closer."
She stepped beside him, pressed against his arm. She could feel his muscles tense beneath his torn sleeve.
The wind shifted again—carrying not just cold, but a low, resonant hum.
"What is that sound?" Elara whispered.
Mara's voice shook. "A summons."
"A what?"
Lucien's eyes darkened. "A message from their god."
Before Elara could react, the air above the village altered—rippling like water touched by a stone. A tear split the night sky, thin and jagged. Red mist leaked through the fissure, spilling downward like blood from a wound.
Villagers screamed and ran.
Lucien pulled Elara behind him. "Get back!"
The mist reached the ground—
—and formed a figure.
Tall. Hooded. Wrapped in crimson cloth that writhed like living muscle. No face. No skin. No sound except the hum that grew louder and louder until it vibrated in Elara's bones.
Mara fell to her knees. "No… No… They dared to summon a Vessel."
Elara's breath hitched. "What's a Vessel?"
Lucien's voice was quiet, lethal.
"A body shaped by the priests. Empty. Waiting to be filled."
"Filled by what?"
His eyes flicked toward the growing tear in the sky. "By a god."
The Vessel's head turned sharply—locking onto Elara.
Her mark seared her chest.
Lucien stepped forward, baring teeth not in hunger but in pure fury.
"You touch her," he growled, "and I will tear this realm apart."
The Vessel raised a hand.
The ground cracked.
A chain of red light shot from the fissure, lashing toward Elara like a whip.
Lucien intercepted it instantly.
The chain wrapped around his arm, burning into his skin. He didn't scream, but his entire body tensed with agony.
"Lucien!" Elara reached for him.
"Don't—touch—the chain," he forced out through clenched teeth.
Mara pulled Elara backward. "He's fighting a god's call. He cannot hold it long!"
Lucien snarled, shadows rising behind him like black wings. "You will not take her!"
The Vessel tilted its head.
A second chain formed.
This one struck the ground at Elara's feet.
She stumbled back—
—and her mark pulsed so brightly the light shone through her cloak.
Lucien froze.
Mara gasped.
The Vessel hissed.
The red chain recoiled from Elara's glowing light like a wounded snake.
"What… What was that?" Elara whispered, staring at her chest.
Lucien's eyes widened in shock—a rare, unguarded expression.
"Elara," he breathed, "your blood repels their god."
The Vessel reared back, trembling, the mist around it destabilizing.
Mara whispered a prayer of disbelief. "She is the last Healer of First Light. Of course the darkness cannot consume her."
The Vessel screamed—a sound like ripping metal—and the tear in the sky flickered.
Its attack had failed.
Lucien seized the moment. He dragged the chain into the shadow behind him, tearing it apart with a burst of dark energy.
The Vessel staggered.
Lucien advanced, voice as cold as the grave.
"Leave."
The Vessel hesitated.
The sky crackled again.
Then—
it retreated into the fissure, the red mist evaporating behind it.
The tear sealed shut.
Silence fell over the square.
Lucien collapsed to one knee.
"Lucien!" Elara caught him before he fell fully.
He leaned heavily on her, his breath ragged.
"You—are—dangerous," he whispered weakly.
Elara blinked. "Dangerous?"
He lifted a trembling hand to her mark.
"Yes."
His voice was faint, but filled with awe.
"Their god fears you."
The realization hit her like a storm.
Her blood was powerful enough to repel a divine chain.
Her mark glowed brighter than the Vessel's magic.
Her lineage wasn't merely important—it was dangerous.
To everyone.
She looked at Lucien, whose strength was draining after shielding her again.
"We need to get you somewhere safe," she said urgently.
He smiled weakly. "I will… be fine."
"No," she snapped, tears forming. "You won't. You can't keep doing this."
Lucien's eyes softened.
"Elara," he murmured, voice fading, "I told you…"
His hand found hers.
"I will not leave you."
Then his eyes fluttered closed as his body went limp in her arms.
"Lucien!" she cried.
Mara rushed forward. "Get him inside! Quickly!"
Elara held Lucien tighter as she shouted for help, her mark glowing fiercely—
not with fear,
not with pain,
but with the unstoppable force of destiny awakening.