Chapter 6: The Unseen Chains

Zehroon's breath came in short gasps as he staggered through the narrow alleyway, his body burning from the strange energy coursing through his veins. The mark on his neck pulsed violently, sending waves of heat through his body. It wasn't pain anymore—it was something else. Something darker.

The world around him blurred, his senses sharpening in strange ways. He could hear the distant footsteps of people walking in the market, the quiet murmurs of conversations far beyond normal hearing. His fingers twitched as if responding to an unseen force.

"What is happening to me?" he whispered, gripping his arm to steady himself.

Then, just as suddenly as the sensation began, it stopped. The overwhelming awareness faded, leaving behind only exhaustion.

But he didn't have time to process it.

A rustling sound came from behind.

Zehroon turned sharply, his muscles tensing. A shadow moved at the edge of his vision, slipping between the wooden crates stacked near a butcher's stall. He wasn't alone.

Someone was following him.

He clenched his fists, forcing his breath to steady. The old Zehroon would have ignored it, too weak to confront anything. But now, something inside him demanded action.

"Come out," he said, his voice firmer than he expected.

Silence.

Then, a flicker of movement.

A figure stepped out from the shadows—a young woman, her face partially hidden by a hood. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light, scanning him with curiosity.

"So, it's true," she murmured.

"What's true?" Zehroon asked, his heart still racing.

"That mark. It awakened, didn't it?"

His fingers instinctively touched his neck. How did she know?

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Someone who knows what's coming," she replied cryptically. "And if you don't start listening, you won't survive what happens next."

The First Hunt

Before Zehroon could respond, a sudden chill spread through the air. The marketplace, once filled with distant sounds, grew eerily silent.

A dark presence loomed nearby.

The woman's expression hardened. "They've found you faster than I expected."

"Who?" Zehroon's gut twisted as he saw something shift in the alley ahead—three figures cloaked in black, their faces hidden beneath metallic masks.

The moment their gazes locked onto him, a suffocating pressure crashed against his chest.

Zehroon staggered back. It felt as if something unseen was pushing him down, draining the strength from his body. His vision blurred, his limbs growing heavy.

"Don't fight it like a fool," the woman hissed beside him. "You're letting them crush you. Push back!"

Zehroon gritted his teeth. The pressure was unbearable, like invisible chains wrapping around his body, pulling him to his knees.

But something inside him rebelled.

His mark flared with heat, and suddenly, the suffocating weight lifted just enough for him to move. His fingers dug into the ground, and a strange sensation pulsed through his arms.

Then—instinct took over.

The first masked figure lunged.

Zehroon barely had time to react. He shifted his body just in time, the attacker's blade slicing through empty air where his neck had been a second ago.

He didn't think. He just moved.

A rush of energy exploded inside him, and his body reacted faster than he ever thought possible. His hand shot out, catching the masked attacker's wrist. The moment his fingers wrapped around it, a shockwave of heat burst from his mark, traveling through his palm into the enemy.

The masked figure froze. Then screamed.

Their body convulsed violently, as if something inside them was being burned away. Their mask cracked, splitting down the middle, before they collapsed onto the ground—lifeless.

Zehroon gasped, stepping back in shock. What had he just done?

The other two figures hesitated, their heads tilting slightly as they observed him. Then, without a word, they vanished into the shadows.

The air grew still again.

The woman exhaled sharply. "Well… I didn't expect you to kill one of them on your first night."

Zehroon barely heard her. His hands trembled as he stared at the unmoving body before him. He had killed before—hadn't he? He had seen it in his visions. But this was real.

He felt something wet on his cheek. When he reached up, his fingers came away red. Blood.

Not his own.

His mark still burned. His pulse pounded in his ears. His breaths came out ragged, uneven.

"What… what am I?" he whispered.

The woman stepped forward, her hood slipping back just enough to reveal striking silver eyes.

"You," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "are just beginning to understand."

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