Chapter 2: The mark

A loud yawn echoed through the small, cold room as Reed's father stretched and scratched his stubbled chin. His bleary eyes scanned the room before resting on his wife, who was folding a patchwork quilt.

"Where's Reed?" he asked, yawning again.

"He headed out early," she replied without looking up. "Probably writing those notes again."

"Notes?" His brows furrowed.

"Yeah, he's been studying swordsmanship," Jade piped up, sitting cross-legged by the fireplace, polishing a carving knife. "I think he's too shy to ask you to teach him."

Reed's father blinked, then grinned. "Well, that settles it. Let's surprise him with a wooden sword today. I've been meaning to teach him a thing or two—might as well start now. He's got the mind for it, even if he doesn't know it yet."

Jade's eyes lit up, her face breaking into an eager smile. "I'll find the best stick to carve!" She sprang to her feet, hugging her father briefly before rushing out the door.

Reed's mother smiled softly, her hands smoothing the quilt in her lap. "It's about time you two bonded over something other than books," she added. "I'll make tonight's stew special—something hearty to celebrate. Maybe I'll even add a pinch of thyme. Reed's always liked that."

Her husband chuckled, leaning back against the wall. "Thyme, huh? You're spoiling him. But I suppose it's not every day your boy decides to pick up a sword."

She shot him a playful look. "And it's not every day you decide to teach him. Don't think I haven't noticed how you've been waiting for this."

He shrugged, his grin widening. "Can't blame me. A father's got to pass on what he knows, right? Even if it takes a little nudging."

***

In the bustling market square, Reed stood in front of a street vendor's stall, staring at a small, chipped skinning knife. His fingers tightened around the eight copper coins in his palm.

"How much for this?" he asked, voice steady but soft.

"Ten copper," the vendor replied without looking up.

Reed frowned, glancing between the knife and his meager savings. "I only have eight."

The vendor scoffed, shaking his head. "Come back when you've got enough. What do you expect me to do?"

Before Reed could respond, a gentle voice interrupted.

"Here, take these."

Reed turned to see a girl holding two copper coins. Her golden hair shimmered like sunlight, and her warm smile revealed flawless teeth. Around her neck hung a pendant depicting a female knight holding a spiked mace—the crest of Mina Clan.

"Lady Cassie!" The vendor's demeanor shifted instantly. He straightened, voice respectful. "Please, take your money back. I'll give it to him for eight copper."

Snatching Reed's coins, the vendor shoved the knife into his hand. "Here, take it."

Reed quickly pocketed the knife, pulling up his hood to obscure his face. Before Cassie could say another word, he muttered a quick "thank you" and hurried away.

The vendor sighed and turned to Cassie, his tone oily. "Ignore him, Lady Cassie. Kids these days have no respect." He caught himself, eyes widening. "But not you, of course. You're wise and mature beyond your years!"

Cassie frowned, her gaze lingering on the boy disappearing into the crowd.

*** 

Meanwhile, Jade returned home, a long, straight stick clutched in her hand. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow through the cracks in the wooden walls of their small house. She kicked off her boots by the door and plopped herself onto the floor, her carving knife already in hand.

With careful precision, she began whittling away at the stick, her movements steady and deliberate. The sound of the knife scraping against wood filled the quiet room, punctuated by the occasional sigh or hum as she worked. Her calloused fingers moved with practiced ease, smoothing rough edges and shaping the wood into something resembling a sword.

For hours, she worked tirelessly, her focus unwavering. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its warmth wrapping around her like a blanket. Every now and then, she would pause to examine her progress, tilting the stick this way and that to ensure the balance was just right.

When it was finally done, she held the makeshift sword up to the light, turning it slowly in her hands. The blade was smooth and straight, the handle carved to fit comfortably in a grip. A small grin spread across her face as she ran her fingers along the edge, imagining Reed's reaction when he saw it.

"Can't wait for Reed to see this," she murmured to herself, her voice tinged with excitement. "He's always got his nose in those books, but maybe this'll get him to look up for once."

With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed the knife again and carefully etched the name "Reed" into the handle. The letters were a little crooked, but they had a charm to them—just like her brother, she thought with a chuckle.

She glanced over at the corner of the room, where a pile of hay served as her makeshift bed. It wasn't much, but it was hers, and she'd made it as comfortable as she could with a few old blankets and a patched-up pillow. Walking over, she tucked the wooden sword beneath the hay, hiding it just out of sight.

"Perfect," she said, brushing a strand of dark blue hair out of her face. "He'll never see it coming."

As she sat back on her heels, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. The day had been long, and her hands ached from hours of carving. But the thought of Reed's face lighting up when he saw the sword made it all worth it.

She flopped down onto the hay bed, letting out a contented sigh. The rough texture of the hay prickled against her skin, but she didn't mind. It was familiar, comforting even. She stared up at the ceiling, her mind wandering to the days ahead.

"Dad's gonna teach him, and I'll be there to cheer him on," she said softly, a smile playing on her lips. "Maybe he'll finally stop moping around with those notes of his."

Her eyes grew heavy as the warmth of the fire and the fatigue of the day settled in. She pulled a thin blanket over herself, nestling into the hay. Just before she drifted off, she whispered one last thought into the quiet room.

"Reed's gonna love it. I just know it."

***

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Reed returned home, greeted by the warm glow of the fireplace. His mother handed him a blanket, while Jade glanced up from stirring the stew.

"Back so early?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Reed nodded. "Not that hungry today. You can cook a little less for me."

Dinner was a modest affair: crusty bread and a pot of mutton stew. The three of them sat around the wooden crate, waiting for their father's return.

"He's late today," Jade muttered, tapping her fingers impatiently.

A familiar shuffle of boots outside the door caught their attention. The door creaked open, and their father stepped in, shaking snow from his shoulders.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with a grin, rubbing his hands together. "The snow came out of nowhere, and I'm freezing."

After warming himself by the fire, he joined the table, clapping a hand on Reed's back. "Let's eat! I'm starving."

The family passed the bread and stew around, laughing as their father made exaggerated complaints about the cold. As the laughter died down, Jade caught her father's eye, her excitement barely contained.

She gave him a small nod, signaling she was ready.

Reed's father smiled and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "So," he said, his voice calm but deliberate. "I hear you've been interested in learning swo...."

The whole room froze.

Reed felt it first—a warm, humid gust brushing against the nape of his neck. His body stiffened, every instinct screaming at him to run, but his legs wouldn't move. Slowly, as if compelled by some unseen force, he turned his head.

Hovering just inches behind him was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen. Its single, massive eye—easily the size of a wrecking ball—stared at him with an unblinking intensity. Veins pulsed across its translucent surface, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Two impossibly long, scrawny arms extended toward him, their skeletal structure almost insect-like. Each arm ended in three elongated fingers, twitching ever so slightly, as if eager to grasp something.

The creature's mouth twisted into a grotesque smile, its jagged teeth uneven and spiked like shards of broken glass. Saliva dripped from its maw, sizzling faintly as it hit the wooden floor.

Then it spoke, its voice a guttural rasp that sent chills down Reed's spine. One word.

"Speak."