Chapter 13 : The Marks Of The Nightborn

The road ahead stretched into the unknown, winding through shadowed woods and distant hills. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves, yet despite the tranquility of the scene, an undeniable tension hung between the three travelers.

Lorien walked slightly ahead of Rainer and Veyna, his mind still replaying the words they had spoken the night before.

"A child born under a cursed star."

The phrase clung to him like a whispered omen, a thread that seemed to weave into the grander design of fate itself. And fate had never been kind to him.

"You're awfully quiet," Veyna remarked, breaking the silence. Her silver hair caught the dim morning light, her mismatched eyes studying him with keen interest. "Regretting coming along with us already?"

Lorien shook his head, forcing his thoughts back to the present. "Just thinking."

"Careful with that," Rainer added dryly, adjusting the strap of his leather satchel. "Too much thinking leads to madness."

Lorien exhaled sharply, a ghost of a chuckle escaping his lips. He wasn't sure whether Rainer was joking or not.

They moved in silence for a while longer, the morning chill giving way to the midday sun. The forest was alive with the sounds of unseen creatures, the occasional rustle of branches hinting at movement in the distance. Yet no threats revealed themselves.

Not yet.

But something was coming.

A Warning on the Wind

By midday, they reached a clearing, where a narrow river cut through the land like a scar. The water gleamed under the sunlight, deceptively calm.

Rainer crouched near the edge, dipping his hand in and bringing a few drops to his lips. He frowned.

"Something wrong?" Lorien asked.

"The water's too warm," Rainer muttered, standing. "Means something upstream is affecting it."

Veyna's fingers twirled a throwing knife, her usual sign of unease. "You think it's them?"

"Maybe."

Lorien didn't need to ask who "them" was.

The Nightborn.

The name alone stirred something primal in him, a sensation like the crackling of unseen fire. He didn't know why, but he felt as though their presence in this world was tied to his own.

"We should move," Rainer decided. "If they're nearby, we don't want to be standing around waiting for them to find us first."

Veyna sheathed her knife. "Lead the way, boss."

They continued northward, following the river upstream, their pace steady but cautious. Every step felt heavier, as though they were walking toward something inevitable.

Then, the wind shifted.

A low, distant wail carried through the trees.

Not human. Not animal.

Something else.

Something wrong.

The Marks of the Nightborn

They found the first sign of trouble at dusk.

A village—if it could still be called that. The structures had been reduced to smoldering ruins, charred wood and broken stone all that remained. The scent of burned flesh clung to the air, thick and suffocating.

Lorien clenched his fists. The echoes of past destruction flooded his mind—his own village, once swallowed by flames and darkness. The memories struck like a blade to the gut, but he pushed them down.

Not now.

"Look at this," Veyna murmured. She stood near the remains of a collapsed house, nudging something with the toe of her boot.

Lorien stepped closer.

A symbol had been burned into the ground—a jagged, twisted mark that pulsed faintly with a sickly glow. It was unfamiliar, yet something about it made his stomach churn.

"This is their work," Rainer said grimly. "The Nightborn leave these marks behind wherever they strike."

Lorien knelt, studying the symbol. "What does it mean?"

Rainer exhaled through his nose. "No one knows. But whenever one of these appears, it's never long before something worse follows."

As if on cue, the ground beneath them trembled.

A guttural growl split the silence, low and resonant.

Lorien's hand shot to his sword, his fingers tightening around the hilt.

From the darkness between the ruins, figures began to emerge.

Not human.

Not quite demon, either.

Something in between.

Their bodies were cloaked in shadows, their movements unnatural, their eyes burning with an eerie, blue light.

Nightborn.

Lorien exhaled, steadying himself.

The trial had already begun.

Battle Under the Crimson Sky

The first creature lunged, its movements too fluid, too alien. Lorien barely had time to raise his sword before it was upon him, claws glinting like obsidian.

He twisted, dodging at the last moment, his blade slicing through the creature's torso. The wound sealed almost instantly, dark mist swirling around it.

Damn it.

"They regenerate fast!" he called out.

Rainer had already drawn his twin daggers, his stance low and predatory. "Then we don't give them time to heal."

Veyna moved like lightning, her knives flashing through the air. One found its mark, embedding itself into a Nightborn's skull. It staggered but didn't fall.

"That's new," she muttered.

Lorien didn't hesitate. He focused, reaching deep into the well of power within him. The air around him shimmered, reality bending as Sovereign's Grasp took hold.

A pulse of force erupted from his body, sending the creatures stumbling. For a moment, the unnatural glow in their eyes flickered.

They felt it.

The power of the Abyss.

Lorien surged forward, his blade a silver blur. He struck at the weakened creature, severing its head in a single, precise movement.

This time, it stayed down.

One down.

Too many left.

---End Of Chapter 13---

The battle waged on, brutal and relentless. Lorien fought like a man possessed, each strike carrying the weight of his conviction. His abilities were growing—he could feel it.

But so were the Nightborn.

Every moment, they adapted. They learned.

And then—

A voice.

Not from the battlefield.

Not from his companions.

But from the depths of his own mind.

"You wield the power of the Sovereign… but do you truly understand its cost?"

Lorien froze for half a heartbeat.

A mistake.

A Nightborn lunged, its claw raking across his shoulder. Pain flared, hot and blinding.

Rainer's dagger flashed, driving the creature back before it could strike again. "Focus!" he barked.

Lorien gritted his teeth, shoving the voice aside.

But something lingered in his chest.

That voice—

He had heard it before.

Not in this lifetime.

But in the memories buried deep within him.

The memories of the Sovereign who came before.

And with that realization came a chilling certainty.

The Nightborn were not just his enemies.

They were searching for something.

And they knew exactly what he was.

A Moment of Silence

The last creature fell, dissolving into nothingness. The battlefield was silent once more, save for the heavy breaths of the survivors.

Veyna wiped blood from her cheek. "That was… unpleasant."

Rainer sheathed his daggers. "They're getting stronger."

Lorien said nothing. His mind was still reeling, the voice from before echoing within him.

"Do you truly understand its cost?"

No.

But he would.

Even if it killed him