Chapter 2-THE DARK MARK

I awoke to the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. My chest felt tight, and the world around me was a blur of shadows and half-light.

The alley was empty. The body was gone. The figure—the one who'd watched me—was nowhere to be seen. It was as if the entire scene had never happened.

But I knew it had.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to steady my breath, my hands shaking as I sat up. The mark on my hand—the one that had burned with power moments ago—was still there.

It was faint. Almost as if it was fading, but the feeling it left behind lingered. A sense of wrongness. A whispering call deep within my veins.

I touched it again, and this time, the heat returned, surging through my fingers, threatening to overwhelm me. I yanked my hand back, gasping for air. My head spun, and the world around me seemed to tilt.

Was I going insane? Or was I truly the heir of the greatest warlock in history?

I didn't know what to believe anymore. My life had been ordinary—or at least, that's what I thought. Now, it felt like I was teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous than I could ever understand.

The faint glow of the mark faded as quickly as it had come, leaving me in a suffocating silence. The night stretched on, the streets of Vaelthar as grim and lifeless as they had always been. Yet something had changed. Something inside me was different.

I stood up, my legs unsteady. The air felt heavier, the shadows seemed darker. There was a presence around me now, something that I couldn't shake, as if I was being watched.

I couldn't stay here.

I turned and walked quickly down the alley, my mind racing. I needed answers. I needed to figure out what had happened and why I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

I didn't have to go far before I heard the sound of footsteps behind me.

Heavy. Slow. Unhurried.

At first, I thought it was my imagination—after all, the streets of Vaelthar were never truly empty. But the footsteps grew louder, more deliberate. There was someone following me.

I quickened my pace, glancing over my shoulder.

A figure in the distance, cloaked in shadow.

The figure was moving too quickly, closing the distance between us far faster than I expected. My heart rate spiked.

I couldn't outrun them—not if they were a warlock. Not if they had magic on their side.

I turned into a side street, hoping to lose them in the maze of alleyways. But the footsteps didn't falter. They echoed louder, closer.

I rounded a corner, pressing my back against the wall, trying to control my breathing. Don't panic, Kalen. You're not helpless. You can fight.

The sound of footsteps grew louder, then suddenly stopped.

I froze, straining to hear the next movement.

Then I felt it.

A presence. A cold, chilling pressure, like something was pressing down on me. Something unnatural.

Before I could react, the figure appeared from the shadows.

A man. Tall. Cloaked in dark robes, the hood pulled low over his face. His eyes gleamed, a faint red glow visible even through the shadow.

He stepped forward with purpose, each footfall heavy and deliberate.

"I knew you'd run." His voice was low, almost bored, but there was something dangerous in it—something sharp.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I could feel it. The power. It was almost tangible now, swirling in the air between us. It vibrated with a strange energy, as though the air itself was alive with magic.

"Who are you?" I forced the words out, trying to sound calm, though my heart raced in my chest.

The man didn't answer. Instead, he extended a hand, fingers long and pale. His palm was open, as if offering something.

I couldn't breathe. The mark on my hand throbbed, and the power inside me reacted, surging again, as if answering the man's call.

"You feel it, don't you?" He smiled, the expression chilling. "The power awakening within you. The bloodline you carry is not like any other. You cannot hide from it."

His words cut through me, and I staggered back, almost falling into the street.

"Stay away from me!" I shouted, my voice trembling. But even as I said it, I felt the temptation to reach out to him. To accept whatever offer he was making.

He chuckled softly, almost as if he were amused by my reaction.

"You don't understand, do you? The power that courses through your veins belongs to the warlock lords of old. And I am here to guide you."

I shook my head, trying to steady myself. The feeling was too much. The power inside me was threatening to consume me. I could feel it—dark and ancient, like a beast begging to be freed.

"No." My voice was shaky but firm. "I don't want your power. I don't want anything from you."

The man's eyes narrowed, and I felt the air around me shift, heavy and oppressive. He stepped closer, until he was just a few feet away.

"You don't have a choice." His voice was a whisper now, dangerous, like a storm about to break.

Before I could react, he raised his hand. The shadows around us seemed to swell, swirling with dark energy. My body froze as the magic pressed against me, as if it were trying to pull me into the depths.

The man smiled, a dark, knowing smile.

"You'll come to understand soon enough, Kalen. The power you hold cannot be ignored. And neither can your destiny."

Then, with a final flash of those red eyes, he vanished into the shadows, leaving me standing alone in the street.

I stood there for a long time, heart racing, trying to steady myself. The power still pulsed within me, but it was quieter now, like a beast waiting to be unleashed.

But I couldn't just let this happen. I couldn't let myself be dragged into a world of magic and violence without understanding it.

I had to find the answers.

And the first step was to find out who that man was.