Chapter 9: Imprint

Maydee led Joshua through the back of the chief's house, where an open area awaited. A small fire burned nearby, its flickering glow casting long shadows against the walls. The night air was crisp, carrying the mingling scents of burning wood and damp earth. Thick furs were spread on the ground, forming a makeshift sitting area. Joshua's brows furrowed. This wasn't what he expected training to look like.

"Sit," Maydee commanded.

Joshua obeyed, lowering himself onto the furs. The moment his skin made contact, he realized how incredibly soft they were—almost unnaturally so. It was warm, comforting, but he could feel something else beneath the surface, an energy thrumming faintly.

"You will not speak," Maydee continued, her tone firm. "You will listen. And you will do as you are told."

Joshua nodded silently.

"Good. Remove your shirt and turn your back to me."

Joshua hesitated. The command sent a small ripple of unease through him. He wasn't exactly shy, but something about her tone made it clear this wasn't up for debate. With a deep breath, he pulled off his shirt, feeling the night air brush against his skin, and turned his back toward her.

A moment later, he heard the faint sound of liquid shifting in a bowl. His curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Maydee had pulled out a small knife—its blade was thin, slightly curved, and gleamed under the firelight. She dipped it into a small bowl filled with a thick, transparent liquid. It had an almost unnatural viscosity, moving slower than water but not quite like oil.

"What is that?" Joshua asked before he could stop himself.

Maydee shot him a sharp look. "Bite on this."

She handed him a thick wooden branch.

Joshua frowned. "Why—"

"Bite," she ordered, leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, he took the branch and hesitantly clamped his teeth around it.

Then, Maydee began chanting.

The language was foreign, just like before, yet Joshua could feel the weight behind every word. It was not just sound—it was something deeper, something that vibrated in the air itself. The temperature around them shifted, the wind stilling, as if nature itself was listening.

A strange warmth spread across Joshua's back.

Then, the pain struck.

It started as a burning sensation, slow at first, as though hot embers were pressed against his skin. But then it deepened, turning into something much worse.

The first cut.

Joshua's jaw clenched tighter against the branch as the knife carved into him. His entire body stiffened, his fingers digging into the furs beneath him. The pain wasn't just on the surface—it burrowed deep, traveling down his spine like molten fire. His breathing grew ragged.

He could hear it—the wet sound of metal slicing flesh. Every stroke sent a fresh wave of agony through his body. He wanted to move, to twist away from the pain, but his muscles refused to respond.

Endure.

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs. Sweat poured down his face, dripping onto the furs below. His vision blurred, but he refused to scream.

The second cut.

The pain intensified. He could feel the knife dragging, carving patterns into his skin with agonizing precision. The liquid from the bowl seeped into the wounds, sending sharp, electrifying jolts through his nerves. It was alive, moving inside him, twisting through his flesh like tiny tendrils of fire.

The third cut.

His entire back burned. His breathing turned shallow, uneven. The symbols Maydee was etching onto him were more than just markings—he could feel them, like unseen forces embedding themselves into his very existence.

His fingers trembled. His vision swam. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours?

The fourth cut.

His nerves were raw, every touch of the blade amplifying his suffering. But beneath the pain, something else stirred. He could feel a pulse inside his body, responding to each stroke of the knife, as though something dormant was being awakened.

His jaw ached from biting down on the branch, but he refused to let go.

A final stroke.

Then—silence.

Maydee let out a soft sigh, her voice barely above a whisper. "It is done."

Joshua released the branch, gasping. His entire body trembled. He barely had the strength to keep himself from collapsing.

The pain hadn't vanished. It lingered, a dull, searing throb, but there was something else beneath it now. A warmth. A hum of power.

He could feel it.

His heart pounded violently. Something surged from within him—like an unseen force clawing to break free. His muscles twitched. His breath hitched. His entire being burned with energy, desperate for release.

His body wasn't just recovering—it was reacting.

The sensation was overwhelming. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of something massive, something untamed. The power inside him grew stronger, filling his veins, pushing against the very limits of his body.

He needed to move. He needed to let it out—now.

"Calm yourself," Maydee's voice cut through the chaos.

Joshua barely heard her. The force inside him was too loud. It roared in his veins, demanding release.

Maydee crouched in front of him, gripping his chin between her fingers. "Listen to me, Joshua."

He gasped for air, his hands shaking. He couldn't focus.

Maydee sighed. "Drink this."

A wooden bowl was pressed against his lips. The liquid inside was warm, thick, carrying a faintly bitter scent. Joshua hesitated, but the look in Maydee's eyes was firm.

"Drink."

With what little strength he had left, he obeyed.

The moment the liquid slid down his throat, a strange drowsiness overtook him. His body relaxed. The energy inside him, once raging, settled.

His vision darkened.

And then—nothing.