CHAPTER 2 : THE BLACK MARK
1057 Words
Kaelira jolted awake.
The growling was gone.
Silence pressed in on her.
Her heart was pounding, thumping so loud she half-expected it to wake the whole house. She sat up on her narrow bed, straining for any hint of sound—anything except the wind throwing itself against the shutters. Early light bled through the gaps in the wooden walls, painting everything in soft, uncertain gray.
Did she really hear it? Or was it just another nightmare?
Who knew, anymore.
She could still hear the woman’s voice echoing inside her skull.
“Run… before the moon finds you.”
Kaelira pressed her palms to her face and forced herself to breathe. Sleep had never been her friend, not for years, but this—this had felt different. Too sharp, too close.
She swung her legs over the edge. The instant her feet hit the cold floor, pain streaked through her chest.
“Aah!”
She bent double, gripping her dress where the heat burned just beneath her skin. It was searing, like someone had branded her right over the heart.
“What…?”
Hands shaking, she fumbled with her collar and rushed to the cracked mirror by the window.
The sight made her breath catch.
A black, crescent-shaped mark curved just under her collarbone. It pointed straight for her heart. Silver veins pulsed under the skin, flickering faintly with every heartbeat.
It wasn’t still, either.
It shimmered, as if it might move, as if it was alive.
Kaelira stared, stunned.
“No…”
She reached out, wanting—needing—to know if it was real.
The moment her fingers touched the mark, pain surged again, knocking her backward. She nearly knocked over the little table.
It hadn’t been there yesterday.
She would have seen it. She knew every scar and patch of rough skin on her body.
This was new.
This was impossible.
It happened right after the dream.
A knot of fear twisted in her gut.
The woman’s words didn’t sound like a warning anymore. They sounded like something else.
A starting point.
Something she wouldn’t be able to run from.
—
Less than an hour later, Kaelira was walking toward the healer’s cottage, her cloak pulled tight despite the rising sun.
People looked away when she passed.
A few darted quick glances over their shoulders, lowered their voices, or even stepped into the street so they wouldn’t brush against her. She’d become used to it over the years.
Today felt different.
There was more fear in their eyes. She felt it. A sharpness, as though they could sense something had changed in her.
The healer’s cottage sat at the very edge of the village, herbs hanging from beams, clouds of lavender and sage scenting the air.
Normally, that smell calmed her.
It didn’t help this time.
She knocked.
“Come in,” called Mira, the healer.
Mira had always been kind—patched her up, cooled her fevers, never muttered curses behind her back.
But as soon as Kaelira stepped inside and dropped her cloak, Mira’s face froze.
“What happened?”
“I—I don’t know.” Kaelira’s voice barely sounded like her own. “I woke up with this.”
She pulled down her collar.
Mira leaned in to look. For a heartbeat. Then all the color drained from her face. She stumbled back, knocking a basket to the floor.
“No…”
“Mira?”
“No.” Mira shook her head, hard. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“It’s just a mark—”
“It’s not just a mark.” Mira’s voice shook with something close to terror. “It shouldn’t be there. It shouldn’t exist.”
Kaelira frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”
Mira reached out automatically but stopped, hand hovering in the air like she was meeting an invisible wall. She gasped, then snatched her hand away.
“I can’t—” Mira stared at her palm, then at Kaelira. “I can’t touch it.”
Kaelira’s confusion grew. “What?”
“My body won’t let me,” Mira said, voice distant.
For the first time, real fear flickered in her eyes. This wasn’t the fear of illness or witchcraft.
This was fear of Kaelira.
Kaelira’s chest ached.
“You think I’m cursed too.” She tried not to sound hurt but failed.
Mira looked away, silent.
The little room felt icy and cramped all at once.
Kaelira wrapped her cloak back around herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, moving for the door.
“Kaelira.” Mira’s voice held her a moment longer.
“I don’t know what that mark is. But whatever’s inside you now… it’s not from this world.”
Outside, the sky had turned dark and heavy. The wind carried the smell of rain mixed with something she couldn’t name—something unpredictable, wild.
Kaelira kept feeling eyes on her.
She glanced back. Nothing. Just kids running circles around the well, merchants fussing at their stalls, farmers arguing over a wheel. Life as usual.
But her nerves stayed on edge.
The feeling grew stronger as she reached the tree line. Every part of her screamed she wasn’t alone.
“Who’s there?” Her voice sounded too loud in the hush of the woods.
Nothing answered—just wind in the leaves.
She scanned the trees, saw nothing, breathed out slow.
“You’re imagining things,” she muttered, and turned to go.
Up in the tangled limbs of an old oak, someone watched.
A man, cloaked and hidden, eyes sharp as silver.
“So…” he whispered, barely loud enough to stir the air. “It finally awakened.”
He dropped his hood just enough to show a sharp jaw, wild dark hair. Around his throat—a pendant with the Lycan royal crest.
He’d been searching for her for twenty years.
Now he’d found her.
He slipped back into the woods, shooting a glance over his shoulder, toward the western ridge. His expression hardened. He wasn’t the only one out there.
Far beyond the village, deeper in the Black Hollow forest, something else stirred. Beyond the reach of light, in the thickest shadows, crimson eyes blinked awake.
They locked onto the village.
Onto Kaelira.
A rumbling, hungry growl built in the darkness.
“At last…”
- Writer
