Echoes of The Forgotten

The air was thick with tension. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond the alleyway. A place meant to be their refuge now felt like a cage.

Kael sat still, hands clenched into fists, staring at the ground. His breathing had steadied, but his body still felt off—like something had been latched onto him, an unseen weight dragging against his mind and limbs.

Not just a mark. It was something else.

The Imprint.

A name came to him unbidden, like it had always been there, lingering in his thoughts but just out of reach until now.

He exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers. When he tried to call on the Veil, there was resistance—not like before, when he was simply exhausted or strained. This was deeper. A pressure, subtle but present, restricting him.

The sensation of Elias' control still lingered.

Ronan paced nearby, his agitation plain. "I don't get it. Why the hell did he let us go?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness. "He could've killed us in an instant. He should have."

Kael didn't respond. He knew the answer, but he didn't want to admit it.

Because it was more entertaining to let us live. Because I was never a threat to him.

Ronan clenched his jaw. "We're not safe. We were never safe, but now it's worse. We're being played with."

Varian, who had been leaning against the wall, watching quietly, finally spoke. "You're just realizing that now?" His tone was unreadable as ever. "Elias never saw you as an enemy. You're an interest. A passing amusement."

Ronan scowled but didn't argue.

Kael's fingers twitched. His head throbbed, an ache blooming from the point where Elias had pressed his finger. He could still feel it—the Imprint—woven into his skin, into something deeper.

Ronan sat down heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "So what now?"

Kael looked up. "We find a way to deal with this." His voice was low, but firm.

Varian's gaze flickered toward him. "Easier said than done."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "You know something."

Varian tilted his head slightly. "Of course I do."

Ronan let out an exasperated sound. "Then start talking."

Varian was silent for a moment, then sighed, crossing his arms. "Kael's situation isn't unique."

That caught both their attention.

"There have been others before," Varian continued. "People marked. People who carried something they didn't understand." His eyes settled on Kael. "None of them lasted long."

Kael felt something cold settle in his gut.

Ronan frowned. "You're saying Elias has done this before?"

Varian shook his head. "Not just Elias."

A beat of silence.

Kael's jaw tightened. "Then what are you saying?"

Varian exhaled. "I'm saying that this—" he gestured vaguely toward Kael "—isn't an isolated incident. You're part of something far bigger than you realize."

Kael's frustration flared. "Then tell me what that is."

Varian's expression didn't change. "You're not ready to know yet."

Kael's grip tightened around his own arm. He was tired of cryptic answers. Tired of being kept in the dark.

His thoughts turned back to the fight. To the way Elias had dismantled him without even trying.

Power alone wasn't enough.

If I want to stop being a pawn, I have to become something worse.

Something deeper stirred in him. An understanding—not fully formed, but present nonetheless.

He took a slow breath, forcing himself to push aside his frustration. "Fine," he said. "Then what's the first step?"

Varian studied him for a long moment before answering.

"There's someone who might have answers."

Kael's attention sharpened.

"Someone who's spent their life studying Imprints, Dominion abnormalities, and things the Ordo Arcanum would rather keep buried."

Kael held his gaze. "Where?"

Varian smirked slightly. "Not far."

Ronan exhaled. "And let me guess—it won't be easy."

Varian chuckled. "It never is."

Kael barely heard them. His mind was already moving forward.

Answers. Control.

He was done waiting for things to happen to him.

No matter what it takes.