Chapter 72: The Hunter's Mark

The forest had changed.

Kael saw it now—the way the shadows clung too long to the tree trunks, how the morning light bent unnaturally around certain spaces. The pact had rewired his senses, revealing a world layered with hidden truths. Every breath brought new information—the metallic tang of old magic in the soil, the faintest echo of the Original's presence lingering at the edges of his awareness like a half-remembered nightmare.

Aurelia moved ahead of them, her steps silent on the leaf-strewn path. The black veins had receded beneath her skin, but Kael could still feel the power coiled within her, a dark mirror to the fragment now living in his own chest.

Lucian walked beside him, his sword unsheathed, his crimson eyes scanning the trees. "You're staring," the vampire muttered.

Kael blinked, realizing his gaze had been fixed on the back of Aurelia's neck, where a strange mark had appeared—a circle bisected by a single slash, burned into her skin like a brand. The same symbol they'd seen on the village door.

"It's spreading," Kael said quietly.

Lucian's grip tightened on his sword. "What is?"

"The mark. It was just on her wrist before. Now it's..." Kael trailed off as Aurelia suddenly stopped, her head tilting like a predator catching a scent.

Aurelia held up a hand, her fingers tensed. The forest fell eerily silent—no birds, no rustling leaves, just the oppressive weight of held breath.

Then Kael felt it.

A pulse of wrongness vibrating through the ground, through the air, through the thing nesting beside his heart. His vision doubled—for one dizzying moment, he saw two realities superimposed: the peaceful forest path and a nightmarish version where the trees were stripped bare, their branches ending in jagged points like broken bones.

She's close.

The thought wasn't his own. The pact-bond whispered it directly into his mind, Aurelia's voice layered with something ancient and fearful.

Lucian's nostrils flared. "Blood. Old blood."

Aurelia didn't turn. "Don't touch it."

Too late.

Kael's foot sank into what he'd thought was a patch of damp earth—except the ground gave like rotten fruit, a sickening squelch as dark liquid welled up around his boot. The scent hit him first—copper and decay—before his vision filled with images:

—A woman screaming as shadows poured from her mouth—

—A village square littered with corpses, their faces frozen in identical expressions of terror—

—A child's hand, small and pale, protruding from a mound of freshly turned earth—

"Kael!"

Lucian yanked him backward as the ground where he'd stepped bubbled, a thick, tarry substance rising to the surface. It formed shapes—fingers, faces, mouths stretched in silent screams—before collapsing back into the earth.

Aurelia was at his side in an instant, her dagger drawn. "Look at me." Her free hand gripped his chin, forcing his gaze away from the disturbed earth. Her eyes were fully black again, the mark on her neck pulsing faintly. "That's her trail. Don't follow it."

Kael's breath came in short gasps. The images still flickered behind his eyelids. "Those people—"

"Gone long before we got here." Aurelia released him, wiping her hand on her trousers as if touching him had left a residue. "She's playing with us. Showing off."

Lucian kicked dirt over the tainted spot, his lip curled in disgust. "Why?"

"Because she can." Aurelia turned, continuing down the path. "Because she knows we're marked. And hunted things always run."

The thing inside Kael stirred, whispering a protest. Not running. Hunting.

Ahead, the trees thinned, revealing a crumbling stone archway half-buried in ivy. Beyond it lay a clearing where the grass grew unnaturally green, a stark contrast to the decaying forest around it. At its center stood a single, gnarled oak, its trunk split down the middle as if struck by lightning.

Aurelia froze.

Kael felt it the moment she did—a spike of recognition laced with dread through their bond.

Lucian eyed the tree warily. "What is this place?"

Aurelia's voice was barely audible. "Where I died the first time."

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of blooming roses and fresh-turned earth. The oak's branches creaked, though there was no breeze.

From within the split trunk, something glimmered.

Aurelia took an involuntary step back. "No."

But Kael was already moving forward, drawn by something deeper than curiosity. The pact-bond sang as he approached the tree, the thing inside him writhing with mingled fear and longing.

The split in the trunk wasn't empty.

Nestled within the hollow, pulsing gently like a sleeping heart, was a shard of pure darkness—a smaller, perfect twin to the artifact they'd destroyed.

Aurelia's dagger hit the ground.

"Impossible," she breathed.

The shard pulsed again, and this time, Kael heard it—a voice, whispering his name from the depths of the dark.

Come home.