Chapter 25: The Awakening Tide

The silence before the storm was suffocating. The underground chamber pulsed with an unnatural energy, its walls carved with ancient runes that flickered in and out of existence. My body still trembled from the aftershocks of the battle, my breath ragged as I steadied myself. The weight of my curse pressed down on me, coiling around my soul like an unseen chain.

I exhaled slowly, my fingers curling against the cold stone beneath me. Blood stained my palm, its warmth quickly fading in the frigid air. The power coursing through me was different now—more controlled, yet more terrifying. The Mark was evolving.

Footsteps echoed from beyond the chamber's entrance. A presence I had not sensed before.

I tensed, forcing my exhaustion to the back of my mind. Whoever was approaching was no ordinary opponent.

A figure stepped into the dim glow of the chamber. Cloaked in silver and black, the stranger moved with the grace of a predator, eyes gleaming with something between curiosity and amusement.

"You survived," the figure murmured, his voice smooth yet carrying an edge of calculation. "Interesting."

I didn't respond. Words were meaningless when the scent of danger lingered so heavily in the air.

The man tilted his head, observing me like one would a rare specimen. "That mark on your skin... It should have consumed you by now. And yet, here you are."

He took a step closer, and I instinctively shifted into a defensive stance. The runes on the walls pulsed in response, as if acknowledging the power in the room.

"You are an anomaly," he continued. "A walking contradiction."

His gaze flickered to my injured arm, where veins of crimson and obsidian spiraled outward from the Cursed Mark. I felt it stir beneath my skin, reacting to his scrutiny.

"You know what you are, don't you?" he asked. "Or have you been stumbling in the dark, hoping to outrun the inevitable?"

A cold smile tugged at his lips.

I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you?"

"A messenger. A historian. A witness to fate." He spread his hands as if presenting himself. "You may call me Elias."

The name meant nothing to me, yet it carried weight. Power. Influence.

"You've felt it, haven't you?" Elias stepped closer, unconcerned by the hostility radiating from me. "The change within you. The hunger. The call of something far greater than mortal existence."

I clenched my fists. "And what would you know of it?"

His expression darkened, amusement giving way to something more ominous. "More than you can imagine."

The air grew heavier. My cursed veins pulsed violently, and a whisper echoed in the back of my mind—a voice not my own.

Embrace it. Or be consumed.

A sharp pain lanced through my skull. I gritted my teeth, forcing the voice into silence.

Elias studied me carefully, his eyes gleaming like a predator assessing wounded prey.

"You are at a crossroads," he murmured. "You can resist the inevitable and be broken by it, or you can accept what you are and seize control."

My vision flickered. Shadows coiled at the edges of my sight, drawn toward me like moths to a flame.

"Enough riddles," I growled. "If you have something to say, say it."

Elias chuckled. "Very well."

He lifted his hand, and the space between us trembled. A symbol formed in the air—a mirror to the mark burned into my skin.

Recognition surged through me. Not from memory, but something deeper. Instinct. Bloodline. Fate.

"This is not a curse," Elias said softly. "It is a throne waiting to be claimed."

The chamber shuddered. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

"You are not the first to bear this mark," he continued. "But you may be the last."

The weight of his words settled over me. My entire life, I had believed the Mark to be a burden, a death sentence. But now, standing before this enigmatic figure, another possibility took root.

The power that had tormented me... Could it be something more?

Elias smiled. "Think on it, prince. The choice is yours."

With a flicker of energy, he vanished, leaving me alone in the trembling silence.

I looked down at my hand, where tendrils of darkness flickered against my fingertips. The Mark pulsed in response.

Was this truly my fate?

Or was I still its prisoner?

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Author's Note:

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