Chapter 7: The Mark of the Forsaken

The wind howled through the valley as Eliam moved swiftly through the forest, his mind sharp despite the exhaustion creeping into his limbs. The village behind him had given him a direction, but now, he needed speed.

The priests were moving under divine protection, using secret pathways and ancient rites to cover their tracks. If he took too long, they would vanish, leaving no trace.

And he would lose Seraphine again.

His grip tightened. Not this time.

The trees grew denser as he pushed forward, his body adapting to the physical strain. He had once been more than mortal his soul had been touched by both the abyss and the divine, yet now he was bound to flesh again. The transition had left him weaker than before.

But weakness was temporary.

He would carve power from the bones of this world if he had to.

As he moved, he became aware of something. A shift in the air. A presence.

He stopped.

The forest had gone silent.

No insects. No rustling leaves. No distant howls of night creatures.

Something was watching him.

Slowly, he turned his head.

At first, he saw nothing but darkness between the trees. Then, movement a figure emerging from the shadows, tall and draped in tattered black robes. The air around them shimmered as if reality itself struggled to contain their existence.

An Inquisitor.

Eliam's pulse remained steady, but inside, he braced himself.

The Inquisitors were not mere men. They were hunters forged by the will of the gods, bound by sacred oaths that stripped them of their humanity. Their duty was singular eradicate those who defied divine law.

And Eliam was the very definition of defiance.

The figure stepped forward, their voice a hollow whisper.

"You should not exist."

Eliam smirked. "Yet, here I am."

The Inquisitor raised a hand. A sigil burned into existence, golden and ancient, crackling with divine energy.

The moment it flared to life, Eliam felt it an oppressive force pressing down on him, as though the very fabric of reality sought to crush him beneath its weight.

A divine suppression technique.

Eliam's muscles tensed. He had no divine power left to counter it, no abyssal force to break its hold. But he refused to be bound.

Grinding his teeth, he forced his foot forward.

The air crackled. The sigil burned brighter.

Yet, Eliam moved.

A flicker of hesitation passed through the Inquisitor's hooded gaze.

Then, Eliam vanished.

In a burst of speed, he closed the distance, his fist colliding with the Inquisitor's ribs. The impact sent the hunter staggering, but Eliam knew better than to pause.

He twisted, grabbing the Inquisitor's wrist before they could react, and drove his knee into their stomach. The divine sigil faltered, its light flickering.

The Inquisitor coughed, then let out a raspy chuckle.

"You are weaker than before."

Eliam exhaled. "And yet, I'm still standing."

The Inquisitor tilted their head. "For now."

Before Eliam could react, pain flared through his chest.

A dagger small, thin, and barely visible had been driven into his side. Divine energy laced its blade, searing through his flesh like fire.

He staggered back, his vision momentarily blurring.

The Inquisitor stood tall once more. "You are marked now, Forsaken One. You will not escape your fate."

Eliam pressed a hand to his wound, feeling the divine magic coursing through his veins. It wasn't just a wound it was a curse.

A tether to the divine forces hunting him.

His jaw clenched.

The Inquisitor raised their blade again, but before they could strike, the air shattered.

A wave of force erupted between them, sending both combatants skidding backward. The forest itself trembled, trees groaning under an unseen weight.

Then, a voice familiar yet distant echoed through the night.

"Enough."

Eliam's heart stopped.

Seraphine.

He turned sharply, eyes scanning the darkness. And there, standing at the edge of the clearing, was a figure wrapped in heavy robes, her face obscured.

But he knew it was her.

The Inquisitor straightened. "You should not be here."

Seraphine took a step forward, her presence radiating something different. A power Eliam couldn't quite grasp.

"I go where I choose," she said softly.

The Inquisitor hesitated. "The gods will not permit it."

Seraphine lifted a hand and the Inquisitor froze.

For the first time, Eliam saw fear in the hunter's gaze.

Seraphine's voice, though quiet, carried an undeniable force.

"They no longer control my fate."

A silence stretched between them. Then, the Inquisitor slowly lowered their weapon.

"This changes nothing."

With a final glance at Eliam, the Inquisitor stepped back into the shadows and vanished.

Eliam barely had time to breathe before Seraphine turned to him.

Her hood fell back slightly, revealing eyes that had changed. Once a deep shade of brown, they now glowed with an eerie silver light.

Eliam exhaled. "Seraphine…"

She looked at him, expression unreadable.

"You shouldn't have come for me," she murmured.

He let out a breathless chuckle. "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

A flicker of emotion crossed her face. Then, she turned.

"Come," she said. "We don't have much time."

Eliam didn't argue.

Because for the first time in years, Seraphine stood before him. Alive.

But something was different.

Something had changed.

And he intended to find out what.