Chapter 19 – The Marked Sanctuary

The ruins were silent, yet the air thrummed with an unseen force. A forgotten presence stirred beneath the stone, woven into the very fabric of this place. I could feel it—an echo of those who had come before me, their essence lingering in the ancient glyphs that lined the walls.

This was no mere sanctuary. It was a tomb for history itself.

Duke Alistair stood beside me, his expression unreadable in the dim torchlight. The pendant he had given me still rested in my palm, its blood-red gem seeming to shift under the flickering glow. A symbol of the Order of the Veil—a name that carried the weight of hidden knowledge and silent threats.

"They're hunting me." My voice barely broke the hush of the chamber.

Alistair nodded, his gaze steady. "They've always hunted your kind. You simply weren't awakened enough for them to take notice—until now."

The words settled in my chest like a lead weight. Your kind. He spoke as if I belonged to something beyond myself, something ancient.

I traced my fingers over one of the worn glyphs carved into the wall. The moment my skin met the stone, a jolt of energy surged through my arm. My mark pulsed in response, heat spreading beneath my flesh like liquid fire.

Images flooded my mind.

A battlefield drenched in blood. Figures clad in obsidian armor, their marks burning like dying stars against the darkness. They fought with an unearthly force, their power raw and untamed. And at the center of it all—a throne carved from bone, wreathed in shadows.

Then, it was gone.

I staggered back, my breath ragged.

Alistair watched me carefully. "You saw them, didn't you?"

I swallowed hard. "The Forgotten."

He inclined his head. "The last of the cursed warriors. Erased from history. But you… you are proof that they were never truly gone."

The weight of his words pressed against my ribs. I had known, deep down, that my mark was more than a simple affliction. It was tied to something far greater than myself. But knowing and accepting were two different things.

I clenched my fists. "You brought me here to show me this. But why? What do you want from me?"

Alistair stepped forward, his presence looming. "What I want is irrelevant. What you need is control. Power without mastery is a blade in the hands of a fool." His voice was steel, sharp and unyielding. "And right now, you are little more than a boy holding a weapon he does not understand."

The words struck deeper than I expected. My power had surfaced in moments of desperation, raw and untamed. But control? That was something I had never possessed.

I exhaled slowly, pushing down the emotions threatening to rise. "Then teach me."

A flicker of approval passed through Alistair's gaze before he turned, striding deeper into the ruins. "Then follow. And prepare yourself."

The Blood Ritual

The path led us to an underground chamber, its entrance hidden beneath layers of collapsed stone. The air was thick with age, carrying the faint scent of burnt incense and something metallic—blood.

At the center of the chamber, an altar stood, carved from obsidian and lined with veins of crimson. The glyphs etched into its surface pulsed faintly, their glow a reflection of the mark burning on my skin.

Alistair gestured toward the altar. "This place is a conduit. A link to the power that runs through your veins."

I approached cautiously, every step sending a ripple of unease through my body. "And what exactly am I supposed to do?"

He unsheathed a dagger from his belt, the silver blade catching the dim light. "Blood calls to blood." His voice was quiet, almost reverent. "If you wish to control what is within you, then you must first face it."

I didn't hesitate. Taking the dagger, I pressed the blade against my palm. The metal bit into my skin, and blood spilled onto the altar.

The reaction was immediate.

The glyphs flared, their glow intensifying. A low hum filled the chamber, deep and resonant, vibrating through my bones. My mark burned, the pain sharp and searing.

Then—darkness erupted from the altar.

Tendrils of shadow coiled through the air, twisting like living entities. The temperature dropped, frost forming along the stone floor. A voice—low, ancient, and layered with echoes—spoke.

"You seek to command what you do not yet comprehend."

I forced myself to stand firm. "Then show me."

Laughter, hollow and knowing, rippled through the chamber.

The shadows surged forward.

The Abyss Within

A sudden force slammed into me, wrenching me from my body. I was falling—plummeting into the abyss.

There was no ground, no sky. Only endless blackness, stretching beyond comprehension. And yet, I was not alone.

Figures surrounded me, their forms shifting between solid and ethereal. Their eyes—glowing with the same cursed mark I bore—watched in silent judgment.

One stepped forward, its presence suffocating. It had no face, only a void where features should be. And yet, when it spoke, its voice was unmistakable.

"You carry our burden, yet you do not understand its weight."

I gritted my teeth. "Then tell me what I am."

The entity's gaze bored into me. "You are the heir to a forgotten legacy. A power the world tried to bury, but could never erase."

The shadows around me shifted, taking shape—a battlefield, just like the vision before. Warriors clad in darkness, wielding power that bent reality itself. And in the distance, watching from the throne of bone—a figure whose mark burned brighter than the rest.

I stepped forward, drawn to the vision. But as I did, the faceless entity whispered,

"Power is never given. It is earned."

The battlefield vanished. The abyss collapsed around me, and I was falling once more.

Awakening

I awoke with a gasp, my body drenched in sweat. The chamber's torches flickered wildly, their flames struggling against the oppressive weight of magic.

Alistair knelt beside me, watching. "You saw them." It wasn't a question.

I pressed a hand to my chest, my heartbeat erratic. "They called me an heir."

Alistair studied me for a long moment before rising to his feet. "Then the choice is yours."

I pushed myself up, my limbs trembling from exhaustion. "What choice?"

His gaze was steady. "To claim what is rightfully yours… or to let the world decide your fate for you."

The weight of his words settled in my chest. For so long, I had believed my mark was a curse. But now… now, I wasn't so sure.

I looked down at my palm, where the blood had dried against my skin. The mark still burned, but the pain was different now.

It was no longer something I feared.

It was something I understood.

And for the first time since my reincarnation—

I was ready to embrace what I had become.

Author's Note:

The journey is only beginning! If you're enjoying Cursed Mark: Rise of the Forgotten Prince, please support me by voting with power stones, leaving comments, and sharing your thoughts! Your support keeps me motivated to bring you more epic chapters. Let me know what you think of the story so far—I love reading your theories and feedback!

Let the rise of the Forgotten Prince continue!