The Mark That Shouldn't Burn
835 Words
The mark on Calla’s neck pulsed like a second heartbeat, even in sleep.
It glowed faintly under moonlight seeping through the windows of her chamber—silent but never still. She tossed beneath her covers, sweating, breath coming short and shallow. And then, as if drawn from her dreams, her hand reached to touch the mark. The moment her fingers brushed it, a flash of golden light seared across her mind.
She was no longer in Thornveil Manor.
She stood in a clearing surrounded by fire. Red moons hung overhead. Wolves—dozens of them—knelt in circles around a woman crowned in thorn and flame. The woman turned to her.
She wore Calla’s face.
“Wake up,” the phantom whispered. “He’s coming.”
Calla jolted awake, chest heaving. The room was cold, and yet her body was burning. She stumbled out of bed, dragging a silk robe over her shoulders, but the sensation didn’t fade.
It was spreading.
The mark—her Moonblood—was reacting again. Only this time, it wasn’t to fear.
It was to presence.
---
Riven was already in the war chamber when she arrived, dressed in black, his jaw locked tight. Several betas flanked him, maps strewn across the long oak table, candles flickering in their holders.
“You felt it too,” he said without looking at her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s different this time.”
He finally met her gaze, and for a moment, there was something ancient in his expression. Not just fear. Recognition.
“The mark is calling to something,” he said. “Or someone.”
Calla leaned over the table. “You told me I was the only one.”
“You are,” Riven said. “Or… you were.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then one of the betas cleared his throat.
“There was a disturbance at the eastern ridge,” he said. “One of our scouts didn’t return. The ground was burned. No trace of a body.”
“Burned?” Calla’s voice caught. “By magic?”
The beta nodded grimly. “Runes melted. Trees scorched from the roots up. And this—” he laid a charred cloth on the table—“was found at the scene.”
Calla reached out to touch it.
The moment her fingers brushed the blackened fabric, another vision slammed into her.
She was standing in ash. A boy no older than her—tall, silver-eyed, bleeding from the mouth—stood across from her. He held a blade etched in flame.
“Forgive me,” he whispered.
Then the vision snapped away.
She staggered back, breath ragged.
“I saw him,” she gasped. “He has the same mark.”
Riven’s eyes turned cold. “That’s not possible.”
“It’s not just possible. It’s real.”
---
Elsewhere, deep in a forgotten part of the forest, a lone figure knelt in a circle of blackened soil. His hands trembled as golden flames crawled up his forearms, licking his skin without burning it.
He was young—no older than twenty-two—with hair the color of midnight and eyes like molten silver. The same mark blazed on his chest, mirroring Calla’s.
“She’s awake,” he whispered.
Behind him, cloaked figures watched in silence.
“It begins again,” one said.
“No,” the boy said. “This time, we finish it.”
He stood, the ground beneath him cracking.
“I’m going to Thornveil.”
“And if the Alpha resists?”
The boy smiled, teeth flashing like fangs.
“Then the Alpha dies.”
---
Back at the manor, Riven paced like a beast in a cage.
“We’ll triple the guards,” he ordered. “No one enters the inner perimeter without direct clearance from me.”
Calla stood by the window, watching the night unfold.
“He’s not coming to kill me,” she said quietly.
Riven turned. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. I saw his eyes. He was in pain. He knows me. He...”
She trailed off, her fingers finding the mark on her neck again.
“He’s like me.”
Riven approached slowly. “If there’s another Moonblood... then this prophecy is even more dangerous than we thought.”
Calla nodded. “Then we need answers. Real ones. Not legends. Not stories. I want to know why we were made. Who made us. And why our magic burns when we’re near each other.”
Riven’s voice dropped. “Then it’s time you met the Seer.”
Calla blinked. “The what?”
“She was the one who first warned me of you,” Riven said. “She’s bound to the forest. No one sees her unless she wants to be found.”
“And you think she’ll talk to me?”
Riven’s eyes darkened. “She’s been waiting for you longer than you’ve been alive.”
- Writer
