Chapter 11: The Shadow’s Bargain

The stranger led Seraphine through the winding streets of Vellastre, moving like a man who had walked these paths a thousand times. He never hesitated, never glanced back to check if she followed. He simply knew she would.

Seraphine wasn't sure why she did.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the weight of her wounds, the steady throb of pain that made it harder to think. Or maybe it was the knowledge that, right now, she had nowhere else to go.

She kept her hand close to her dagger, just in case.

They moved through narrow alleys slick with rain, past shuttered windows and lanterns that flickered in the wind. The deeper they went, the quieter the city became.

Finally, they stopped in front of an old, unmarked building. The stranger pressed his palm against the wooden door. A symbol, faint but pulsing, glowed beneath his touch.

Magic.

The door creaked open.

Seraphine hesitated at the threshold.

The air inside was thick heavy in a way that had nothing to do with dust or dampness. It smelled of old parchment, burning incense, and something deeper. Something ancient.

She took a cautious step inside.

The door shut behind her.

"Sit," the man said, motioning to a worn wooden chair near the fireplace.

Seraphine didn't move. "I don't even know your name."

The man turned, studying her. Then, after a moment, he nodded. "Call me Valen."

She narrowed her eyes. "Not your real name."

His lips curved slightly. "No. But it's the one that matters."

Seraphine exhaled, then reluctantly sat down. "Fine. Start talking."

Valen moved to a nearby shelf, pulling down a small glass vial filled with something dark. He tossed it to her.

"For the pain," he said.

She caught it but didn't drink. "You still haven't told me why you brought me here."

Valen sat across from her, his expression unreadable.

"You are marked," he said simply. "And you don't know why."

Seraphine stiffened.

Her fingers curled instinctively around her wrist, where the markings were hidden beneath her sleeve.

"You're wrong," she said flatly. "I know exactly why."

Valen's gaze didn't waver. "Then tell me."

Silence.

Seraphine had spent years running, hiding. Convincing herself that if she just stayed ahead, if she never spoke the truth out loud, it wouldn't catch up to her.

But now, sitting in this strange place, with this stranger who somehow knew far more than he should

Maybe it was time.

She exhaled slowly. "I was born with them."

Valen leaned forward slightly. "And?"

Seraphine hesitated.

"…And they're growing."

Valen's expression remained calm, but something flickered in his eyes.

"How long?" he asked.

Seraphine swallowed. "Since I was a child."

Valen studied her, tapping a finger against the armrest of his chair. "Then you are running out of time."

A chill ran down her spine.

She had known that. Had felt it every time she woke to find the markings darker, more intricate. But hearing it out loud…

"What do you know?" she demanded.

Valen was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he said

"There is something ancient in your blood."

Seraphine clenched her jaw. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only one that matters."

She gritted her teeth. "The Inquisition thinks I'm cursed. The gods want me dead. And you're saying I have something ancient in my blood?"

Valen nodded. "And that is why they fear you."

Seraphine exhaled sharply, standing. "This was a mistake."

Valen didn't move. "Do you want to know the truth, or do you want to keep running until you collapse?"

Seraphine froze.

His voice was calm, steady but there was something behind it. Something sharp.

She swallowed hard.

Then, slowly, she sat back down.

Valen nodded, satisfied. "Good."

He leaned back in his chair. "The markings you bear are not a curse. Not in the way the Inquisition claims. They are a brand. A claim."

Seraphine's breath hitched. "A claim?"

Valen's gaze darkened. "Something old has laid a hand on you, Seraphine. And it has not let go."

She felt suddenly cold.

She had always known the markings were different. Had always felt there was something inside her that didn't belong.

But this?

"Who?" she whispered.

Valen was silent for a long moment.

Then, at last, he said

"The Hollow One."

Seraphine's blood turned to ice.

No.

That was impossible.

The Hollow One was a myth. A name whispered in the dark by those who feared things beyond the gods. It was a force, a hunger, an abyss that devoured all who strayed too close.

It did not mark people.

It consumed them.

"You're lying," she said, her voice shaking.

Valen met her gaze. "Am I?"

Seraphine's heart pounded.

She had spent her life fearing what was inside her. But never not once had she thought that it could be this.

If the Hollow One had marked her…

What did that make her?

Valen's voice was quiet, but firm.

"You have two choices, Seraphine."

She forced herself to breathe. "And what are they?"

Valen's green eyes gleamed in the dim light.

"You can keep running. Keep hiding. And one day, when you are too tired, too weak, it will take you."

Seraphine swallowed hard. "And the second?"

Valen leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Or you can face it."

The room seemed to close in around her.

Seraphine didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Because deep inside, in the part of her mind she had tried to silence for years

She knew what he was saying was true.

And she was terrified.