Chapter 9 – The Marked One
1064 Words
POV: Rory Hale
The stares were worse than knives.
Everywhere I moved in the academy halls, whispers followed me like smoke. Heads bent together, voices went low, and eyes hungry, terrified, hateful to me as if I’d suddenly grown a crown of fire.
“They say she survived dragon fire.”
“No, it was the wolf. He lost control, and she calmed him.”
“Look at her arm. The mark is real.”
“The Marked One…”
The words clung to me like a curse.
I held my books to my chest and attempted to go faster, but the murmurs crawled under my skin until I couldn’t breathe.
Finally, I snapped, wheeling on them. “Say it to my face!”
The corridor went silent. A girl with silver eyes scoffed. “Why would we? You’ll kill us all soon enough.”
Her pals chuckled uneasily, but no one dared step closer.
I turned away, my throat burning, my vision blurred with heat I couldn’t gulp down.
When I pushed inside the library, Kael was already there. He looked up suddenly, his eyes scanning me like I would break apart at any second.
“They know,” I muttered.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. His jaw stiffened. “It was only a matter of time.”
“They think I’m cursed.” My voice cracked. “Or dangerous. Or both.”
“You are dangerous.” His voice was low, harsh.
I flinched. “Thanks.”
But then he drew closer, his gaze gentler now. “That doesn’t mean cursed. Power isn’t evil, Rory. But power brings enemies.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be whatever this is.”
“No one ever asks.”
I wanted to yell at him, shove him away, tell him he didn’t understand. But before I could, another voice crept through the hush.
“You don’t belong to him, you know.”
I froze. The voice was silky, rich, and cold as glass.
From the shadows of the library, he appeared. Silver hair pouring like liquid moonlight, eyes dark and yearning. He moved like he owned every step of the terrain.
Kael stiffened, body curled. “Stay back.”
Lucien’s smirk curved slowly, deliberately. “Relax, wolf. I’m not here to break her apart. Yet.” His stare slid to me, locking me in place. “I’m here to claim what’s mine.”
My stomach sank. “Yours?”
Lucien’s eyes seared into me. “Your blood proves it. That mark on your skin, you even know what it means?”
Kael hissed, standing in front of me. “Don’t. Not now.”
“Oh, but she deserves to know.” Lucien’s voice was silk and venom. He came closer, ignoring Kael’s warning. “Your little rune isn’t just a mark of prophecy. It’s a seal. A relationship older than wolves, older than flames. A link tied to blood. My blood.”
I stumbled back. “That’s not possible.”
Lucien’s lips twisted into something between a smile and a threat. “Oh, but it is. You are tied to me, little flame. Whether you accept it or not.”
My chest pinched, the air leaving me. I glanced at Kael, desperate, but his face was stony, unreadable.
“Tell me he’s lying,” I begged.
Kael’s silence was louder than any words.
“No…” My knees weakened. “This can’t be true.”
Lucien drew closer, his breath tickling my ear. “It is. You carry my mark. And sooner or later, you will wear my name.”
I shoved him back, anger pushing through the terror. “I will never belong to you!”
His chuckle was low, nasty. “You already do. Why do you think the shadows want you dead? Why do you suppose fire bends and wolves break? Because your blood appeals to me, and the universe trembles at the prospect of it.”
Kael snapped then, slamming Lucien hard against a bookcase. “Touch her again, and I’ll rip your throat out.”
Lucien simply smiled, fangs flashing slightly. “Careful, mutt. She’s not yours to guard. She’s mine to claim.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn't think. My skin scorched where the rune pulsed under my sleeve, as if it responded to his words.
“No,” I muttered. “It’s not true. It’s not true.”
Lucien’s gaze softened not with kindness, but with conviction. “You’ll see soon enough. You can fight me, battle the bond, fight yourself… yet you can’t fight fate.”
He slipped into the shade, leaving the air colder than before.
I looked at Kael, trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His jaw clinched. “Because I didn’t want it to be true.”
“But it is?” My voice shattered.
He closed his eyes, pain engraved deep in his features. “Yes.”
Tears hurt my eyes, but rage came sharper. “So what am I to you, then? Just a prophecy? Just a weapon you can’t control? Or his possession?”
Kael’s eyes blazed with something raw. “You’re not his. You’ll never be his. I don’t care what the mark says.”
“Then what am I to you?” I demanded.
His lips parted, but no words came. Only silence.
The quiet hurt more than any answer could.
The library felt like it was closing in, the walls whispering, the shadows remembering. My mark burned hotter, like though Lucien’s claim had awoken something inside me that I didn’t want.
I clamped my palm over it, attempting to muffle the shine. “I don’t want this. I don’t want him. I don’t want any of it.”
Kael went closer, his hand lingering like he wanted to touch me but didn’t dare. His voice was low, harsh. “You’re not alone in this. Not while I’m here.”
But in his eyes, I saw the truth he wouldn’t utter out.
Even he didn’t know how long he could keep me safe.
The lantern above us flickered fiercely, plunging the library into a swirl of shadows.
And from the darkness, Lucien’s voice whispered one last timesmooth, lethal, confident.
“You can deny me all you want, little flame. But your blood will always beckon to me.”
- Writer
