Long before kings ruled and cities rose, the world was known by another name.
People called it Arenfall — the land of living skies.
Back then, storms sang. Rivers shone at night. Mountains whispered. And above all things, there existed the greatest mystery of all:
The Marks.
No one knew where they came from.No one knew who made them.But everyone knew what they did.
Marks chose people.Not the other way around.
Some Marks gave power over fire.Some gave strength beyond reason.Some gave strange gifts—like hearing lies… or seeing things that hadn't happened yet.
And some Marks…
were never meant to exist.
Centuries passed.
Kingdoms rose. Kingdoms fell. Wars burned the world again and again. In time, people stopped seeing Marks as miracles.
They started seeing them as weapons.
So rulers hunted Marked people. Armies captured them. Scholars studied them. Priests feared them.
Slowly, the number of Marked people grew smaller.
Stories replaced sightings.Truth became legend.Legend became bedtime tales.
On one quiet winter night, snow fell softly over a small village at the edge of the northern woods.
Inside a warm wooden house, fire crackled gently in the hearth. Orange light danced on the walls. The smell of sweet herbs filled the air.
Five children sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide, blankets wrapped around their shoulders.
An old traveler sat before them.
His cloak was worn. His beard long. His voice deep and slow, like someone who had seen too many years.
He leaned closer to the fire.
The flames reflected in his eyes.
"Tell us about them," one child whispered."The Marked Ones."
The old man smiled faintly.
"So you want that story tonight?"
All five children nodded eagerly.
He lifted a finger.
"Then listen carefully… because this is not a story kings like being told."
The room grew quieter.
Even the wind outside seemed to pause.
"Long ago," the traveler began, "there were Seven Marks. Not six. Not eight. Seven. Each one held a power strong enough to change the world."
The children leaned closer.
"One could burn oceans dry.One could stop time for a single breath.One could break mountains with a whisper.One could walk through shadows.One could heal death itself.One could command storms."
He paused.
The fire popped.
"And the seventh?" a small girl asked.
The old man's smile faded.
"No one agrees what the seventh did."
Silence filled the room.
Somewhere in the house, wood creaked.
"They say," he continued quietly, "the seventh Mark wasn't power."
He leaned closer.
"It was the end of power."
The children swallowed.
"W-what happened to it?"
The traveler's eyes darkened.
"It disappeared."
Silence.
"For a thousand years, no one has seen it. Kings searched. Empires dug. Priests prayed. Nothing."
He looked slowly at each child.
"But there is one thing every old record agrees on."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"If the Seventh Mark ever returns… the world will not stay the same."
A log shifted in the fire. Sparks rose.
One of the children shivered.
Another forced a laugh. "That's just a story."
The traveler did not laugh.
"Is it?"
No one answered.
Outside, the wind began to howl.
In the corner of the room, half hidden in shadow, sat a quiet boy no one had noticed speaking all night.
Kael.
He hadn't asked questions. Hadn't moved. Hadn't blinked much.
He just listened.
The firelight flickered across his face, showing calm eyes… and a strange stillness, like he was waiting for something he didn't understand.
The traveler's gaze slowly shifted.
Stopped.
Rested on him.
"You, boy. Why so quiet?"
Kael shrugged lightly.
"Just listening."
The traveler studied him.
Something unreadable passed through the old man's eyes.
Then—
The fire suddenly bent sideways.
Not flickered.
Bent.
As if pulled by an unseen breath.
Silence filled the room.
The flames straightened again.
Everything returned to normal.
"…Did you see that?" one whispered.
The traveler did not answer.
He was still looking at Kael.
Years Later
The world had changed.
The snow forests were gone.The warm house was gone.The traveler was gone.
And the boy who once sat quietly in the corner…
was now standing alone in a crowded university hallway.
Kael.
Tall. Calm. Unnoticed.
Noise surrounded him—
laughter, footsteps, voices—
yet around him there was always a strange kind of silence.
Not real silence.
Just the kind that follows people who don't belong anywhere.
Teachers called him polite.Classmates called him quiet.Strangers called him forgettable.
They were all wrong.
Because Kael wasn't forgettable.
People remembered him.
They just didn't realize they did.
There was something about him—something calm, steady, almost comforting. Like standing near still water.
He wasn't popular.He wasn't loud.He didn't try to stand out.
But he had something most people didn't.
He was easy to like.
And that—
was exactly why some students hated him.
Three boys stood near the classroom door.
Popular. Loud. Confident.
One blocked his path.
"Well, look who it is. The silent saint."
Another snorted.
"Does he ever talk?"
Kael answered calmly.
"Sometimes."
They laughed.
"Say something wise," one said. "You always look like you know something."
Kael met his gaze.
"I don't."
That annoyed them more than any insult could.
They stepped aside.
Kael walked in.
Inside, the room was quieter than it should have been.
At the front stood a man no one had seen before.
Not old.Not young.Not ordinary.
Something about him felt… wrong.
Or maybe—
ancient.
His eyes scanned the class.
Then stopped.
On Kael.
Silence stretched.
The man smiled faintly.
"You must be Kael."
"…Yes."
"I've been waiting to meet you."
Whispers spread across the room.
"Have we met?" Kael asked.
"No," the man said softly. "But I've known about you for a very long time."
Cold unease touched Kael's spine.
"I think you have me confused with someone else."
The man tilted his head.
"No. I never confuse beginnings with endings."
Kael was about to ask—
The bell rang.
The man turned.
"Take your seats."
Students obeyed.
Kael sat.
When he looked up again—
The professor was gone.
Not walking out.Not hiding.Not moving.
Gone.
Murmurs erupted.
"Where'd he go?""Did you see that?""What just happened?"
Kael didn't speak.
His gaze slowly lowered.
On the floor beside his desk—
The professor's shadow remained.
Still.Watching.
And slowly…
It smiled.
Was the shadow real…or was Kael imagining it?
And more importantly—
Why did the professor seem to know him?