The glow around Zahra’s hands slowly faded, leaving behind faint lines of silver etched into her skin—like runes burned into her very blood.
She stared at them, her breath uneven. “This... this wasn’t here before.”
Kael nodded. “The mark of the First Blooded. The altar recognizes you as one of its own.”
“But how? I was just a child when they—” Her voice broke. Flashes of the visions danced behind her eyes again: the silver-eyed woman, the crying child, the storm of battle. “I don’t remember being part of anything like this.”
“You were hidden,” Kael said softly. “They protected you by burying the truth. Even from you.”
The forest around them remained still, holding its breath. The sigil on the altar glowed with a steady pulse, like a heartbeat. Zahra could feel it thrumming through the
