Kael's scream echoed through the temple.
Veylan's withered hand was still pressed to his Ruinmark, the ancient's fingers burning like brands. The mark had spread up to Kael's elbow now, veins of inky black branching beneath his skin. The pain was unbearable—like his blood had turned to molten lead.
**"Focus,"** Veylan hissed. **"The mark is part of you. Bend it to your will, or it will break you instead."**
Kael gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his face. The whispers in his mind had become a chorus, chanting in a language he almost understood. Shadows coiled around his arm, alive and hungry.
Lirya stood nearby, arms crossed. She said nothing, but her jaw was tight.
Veylan finally released him. Kael collapsed forward, gasping. His arm throbbed, the mark pulsing like a second heartbeat.
**"Again,"** Veylan commanded.
Kael forced himself up. He raised his marked arm, focusing on the darkness writhing beneath his skin. **"How?"**
**"Call to it,"** Veylan said. **"Not as a master to a slave—as one beast to another."**
Kael exhaled slowly. He didn't try to command the power. Instead, he *listened*.
The whispers sharpened.
**Kill. Burn. Destroy.**
But beneath the rage, something else—something *older*. A promise of strength, of vengeance. The mark wasn't just hunger. It was *purpose*.
Kael clenched his fist.
The shadows responded.
Darkness erupted from his arm, swirling around him like a living storm. The air itself seemed to tremble. For the first time, the power didn't feel like it was controlling *him*.
Veylan's lipless mouth curled into a smile. **"Good."**
Then, without warning, he struck.
The ancient moved faster than anything human, his clawed hand slashing toward Kael's throat. Instinct took over. The shadows surged, forming a shield just in time. Veylan's claws scraped against the darkness, the impact sending Kael skidding back.
**"Fight,"** Veylan snarled. **"Or die."**
Kael barely had time to react before Veylan was on him again. The old one's attacks were brutal, each strike meant to cripple or kill. Kael blocked, countered, but he was losing ground fast.
Lirya stepped forward. **"Veylan—!"**
**"Stay out of this!"** the ancient snapped.
A backhand sent Kael sprawling. Blood filled his mouth. The mark burned, the whispers rising to a scream.
**Let go. Let us in.**
Veylan loomed over him. **"Is this all the last Aranthor has? Pathetic."**
Kael's vision turned red.
He stopped fighting the mark.
And *pulled*.
Darkness exploded outward, swallowing the chamber in an inky tide. For a heartbeat, Kael saw through the shadows—every flicker of movement, every shudder of breath. He saw Veylan's widening eyes. Saw Lirya reaching for her daggers.
Then he *moved*.
He was on Veylan in an instant, his fist slamming into the ancient's ribs hard enough to crack stone. Veylan flew back, crashing into the far wall. Kael didn't stop. He lunged, shadows coiling around his fists—
A dagger flashed.
Pain lanced through his side as Lirya's blade bit deep. Kael snarled, rounding on her—
And froze.
Her face was pale, but her grip on the dagger was steady. **"Enough,"** she said.
The mark's power receded like a tide, leaving Kael shaking. He touched his side, his fingers coming away red.
Veylan rose from the rubble, chuckling. **"There he is."**
Kael panted, the adrenaline fading. **"You were trying to make me lose control."**
**"I was trying to make you *understand*,"** Veylan corrected. **"The mark is not your enemy. It is your birthright. The Aranthor bloodline was *made* for this power."**
Kael looked at his hands. The mark had settled again, but it felt different now—less like a curse, more like a weapon.
And weapons could be aimed.
---
Lirya bandaged Kael's side in silence. The wound wasn't deep, but it bled freely.
Veylan had vanished deeper into the temple, leaving them alone in the chamber. The black pool still shimmered, showing glimpses of distant places—templars marching, cities burning.
Kael flexed his marked arm. **"How long did it take you to control yours?"**
Lirya tied off the bandage. **"Years. And I still lose hold of it sometimes."** She met his gaze. **"What you did today... that took *months* for me to learn."**
Kael frowned. **"Why?"**
**"Because it's in your blood,"** Veylan's voice echoed from the shadows. He emerged holding an ancient tome, its pages yellowed with age. **"The Aranthors were never just nobles. They were *keepers*—the last line between the world and what the Church buried."**
He dropped the book in Kael's lap. The pages showed a family tree, stretching back centuries. At the very top was a name that made Kael's breath catch.
**Veylan Aranthor.**
Kael's head snapped up. **"You're—?"**
**"Your many-times-great-grandfather,"** Veylan said. **"And the first to bear the Ruinmark."**
Lirya's eyes widened. She hadn't known.
Kael stared at the name. **"The Church killed my family because of *you*."**
**"They killed your family because they were afraid,"** Veylan corrected. **"Afraid of what would happen if an Aranthor awakened to their true power."** He leaned in. **"You want vengeance? Good. But first, you must become what they fear most."**
Kael closed the book. **"How?"**
Veylan's smile was all teeth.
"Let's find out."
---
The temple shook.
Kael's head snapped up as dust rained from the ceiling. The black pool's surface rippled violently, showing flashes of fire and steel.
Lirya was on her feet first. "We're under attack."
Veylan didn't move. His many-colored eyes narrowed. "The templars found us."
Another explosion rocked the temple, closer this time. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the halls.
Kael grabbed the ancient tome and shoved it into his belt. "We need to go."
Veylan's laugh was dry as dead leaves. "Run if you wish. I have waited centuries for this fight." His Ruinmarks began to glow, shifting colors like oil on water.
Lirya grabbed Kael's arm. "Dain's still at the dock!"
They ran.
The temple corridors twisted unnaturally, walls bending away from them as they sprinted toward the entrance. Kael's mark burned in response to Veylan's power, shadows licking at his fingers.
They burst into daylight to chaos.
The beach swarmed with templars in gleaming armor. Crossbow bolts streaked through the air, thudding into the sand. At the dock, *The Wraith's Kiss* was already pulling away—Dain at the helm, his crew frantically cutting ropes.
A bolt grazed Kael's cheek. He tasted blood.
"They're leaving us!" Lirya snarled.
Kael's eyes locked on a familiar gilded figure leading the templars—Serath the Zealous. The sword-saint's blade burned with holy fire as he cut down a fleeing reaver prisoner.
Then Kael saw something worse.
Among Dain's crew, a hooded figure stood at the rail—holding a glowing communication crystal. The traitor.
"No time," Kael growled. "We swim."
They charged into the surf just as another explosion rocked the temple behind them. The water was ice-cold, thick as syrup. Kael's muscles screamed as he fought through the unnatural currents, Lirya beside him.
Something brushed his leg beneath the waves—something *large*.
Lirya's eyes widened in warning.
They swam harder.
*The Wraith's Kiss* was nearly a hundred yards out when Kael's fingers finally scraped the hull. A rope ladder tumbled down—Dain himself leaning over the rail, his scarred face grim.
"Move your asses!"
Kael hauled himself up, then turned to help Lirya. As she cleared the rail, the water beneath them erupted.
A leviathan eel—twice the size of their ship—surged from the depths, its maw gaping. The templars' boat vanished in a crunch of splintered wood and screaming men. Serath barely leapt clear, landing on a floating spar with unnatural grace.
Dain didn't wait to see more. "Full sail! Now!"
As the ship lurched forward, Kael caught movement near the mast. The hooded crewman—slinking toward the hold.
Kael moved.
He crossed the deck in three strides, slamming the traitor against the mast. The hood fell back, revealing a face he knew—Ryn, the young windcaller's apprentice.
The boy's eyes widened in terror. "I-I didn't—"
Kael ripped open the boy's shirt.
There, glowing faintly on his chest—a golden sunburst brand.
"A Sunmarked spy," Lirya breathed.
Dain's face darkened. He drew his knife.
Ryn screamed. "They have my sister! They said they'd kill her!"
Kael's fist clenched. The mark pulsed in response to his anger. It would be so easy to—
"No."
The voice came from behind them. The old windcaller shuffled forward, her blind eyes milky white. "The boy is mine to judge."
Dain hesitated, then lowered his blade.
As the crew dragged Ryn belowdecks, Kael turned back toward the island. The temple was fully ablaze now, flames licking at the unnatural black stone. At the shore's edge, a single figure stood watching them go—Veylan, his many-colored marks glowing like beacons through the smoke.
Then the sea erupted again.
Not the eel this time—something worse. A pillar of black water surged upward, swallowing the temple whole. When it collapsed, there was nothing left. No island. No temple.
No Veylan.
Lirya's hand found Kael's. Her fingers were trembling.
Dain stared at the empty horizon. "Well... shit."
---
Night fell heavy on the deck.
Kael sat sharpening his blade, the ancient tome heavy in his lap. The mark had settled, but his skin still crawled with residual power.
Lirya dropped beside him, passing a bottle. "We'll find another way."
Kael took a long pull. The liquor burned going down. "Veylan's gone. The temple's gone. What way is left?"
"The boy," she said simply.
Kael frowned.
Lirya's smile was all edges. "The Church wants him back. That makes him valuable." She leaned closer. "We don't need Veylan to teach you. We have *bait*."
The mark pulsed in agreement.
Somewhere belowdecks, Ryn whimpered in his chains.