Demon's Mark

Kaelen didn't sleep.

He lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the cracked ceiling above as shadows shifted across the walls like whispering ghosts. His heartbeat never slowed. The events of the day played on a brutal loop in his mind Elira's cryptic warnings, the crystal pulsing with some foreign magic in his palm, and Darius...

That terrifying, alluring monster who had stared into his soul and claimed him as though Kaelen belonged to him.

You're mine now.

The words haunted him like a curse. He could still feel Darius's hand on his wrist hot, firm, claiming. And worse... part of him hadn't hated it. That thought made Kaelen want to tear out his own heart.

No. You're not weak. You're not his. You're not some puppet in someone's story.

He sat up, drenched in sweat. The room was too quiet. Too still. The crystal Elira had given him was still tucked under his pillow, and he yanked it out, staring at it like it held all the answers.

What are you? he thought bitterly.

A spark flickered inside the crystal.

Kaelen blinked. The crystal pulsed faintly again, then dimmed like a heartbeat responding to his thoughts.

He stared, eyes narrowing. This wasn't just some charm. It was.... alive.

Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through his head. Kaelen hissed, grabbing his temple as visions slammed into his mind.

—A dark throne.

—A silver crown broken in half.

—A boy with glowing eyes screaming as fire engulfed him.

—Chains of crimson light winding around a heart.

—A demon king reaching out with a bloodstained hand.

—And Kaelen, standing before them all, marked by flame.

He collapsed to the floor, gasping. The visions faded, but their weight didn't. The crystal had shown him something no, warned him of something.

And Kaelen realized, with rising dread, that the story unfolding wasn't just about a cursed connection or a demon prince with obsession in his eyes.

It was a war.

And he was at the center of it.

By morning, Kaelen had made a decision.

He wasn't going to keep hiding in his dorm, waiting for Darius to come and sink his claws deeper. If Darius wanted to play games, then Kaelen would flip the board.

He shoved the crystal into his pocket and stormed out into the academy courtyard. The sky was overcast, clouds brooding overhead like the heavens were holding their breath.

Students milled around lazily, laughing, flirting, casting minor spells to show off. Kaelen ignored them all.

He had one destination.

Professor Malrik's office.

Malrik was one of the oldest professors at the academy. Grumpy. Anti-social. And deeply obsessed with forbidden lore. The kind of lore that probably mentioned demons and prophecy and ancient warlocks who weren't supposed to exist anymore.

Kaelen pounded on the office door until it creaked open on its own. The room inside was a chaotic mess of books, vials, glowing scrolls, and—strangely—floating orbs that whispered in languages Kaelen didn't know.

"Who disturbs the dead?" came a gruff, annoyed voice from within.

Kaelen stepped in. "Someone who doesn't want to be possessed by a demon. Or killed. Or whatever the hell is happening to me."

Malrik's bald head popped out from behind a stack of tomes, eyes bloodshot but alert. "Ah. The cursed boy. Come in, then."

Kaelen hesitated. "You know about me?"

"Please. The moment Darius enrolled in this academy, every magical ward in the place started screaming like banshees." Malrik snorted. "Only fools didn't notice something was wrong. I, however, am not a fool."

Kaelen stepped inside. "Then tell me how to break it. The bond. The prophecy. Whatever connects me to him. I want out."

Malrik raised an eyebrow and let out a dry laugh. "You think it's that simple? Do you even know who you are, boy?"

Kaelen tensed. "I'm me. Kaelen Rynhart. Just a student—"

"No. You were never just a student." Malrik's expression darkened. "Tell me.... have you ever wondered why your magic is unstable? Why spells shatter when you try to cast them? Why, despite failing every exam, you're still alive when others with less power are dead?"

Kaelen swallowed hard.

Malrik leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Because you, Kaelen Rynhart, are a living seal."

"A... what?"

"A vessel. A key. A living, breathing lock created by ancient magic to bind something far worse than even Darius Nightbane. And the moment you made contact with him, the chains began to loosen."

Kaelen took a step back, the floor spinning beneath him. "No. That's not— I didn't ask for this—"

"No one ever does," Malrik said with a shrug. "But the prophecy doesn't care about what you want. Only what you are."

Kaelen's mind reeled. "So what do I do? Let it happen? Let that monster take over my life? My body?!"

Malrik's gaze turned sharp. "There's one thing you can do."

Kaelen looked up, desperate.

"Win," Malrik said simply. "Take control before he does."

Later that night, Kaelen stood on the rooftop of the east tower, wind whipping through his hair as the city lights flickered below. He could feel it now that power deep in his core. The chains. The seal. The slow, grinding awakening inside of him.

And he wasn't alone.

A presence flared behind him, dark and familiar.

"You've been busy," Darius's voice said smoothly.

Kaelen didn't turn. "You lied to me."

"I never lied," Darius replied. "I just didn't tell you everything. There's a difference."

Kaelen clenched his fists. "You knew what I was. You knew I was cursed. A vessel. A damn key."

"Yes." Darius appeared beside him, his crimson eyes glowing in the dark. "And that's exactly why I need you. Not just because of the prophecy. But because only you can unbind me."

Kaelen turned sharply. "So that's what this was about? Manipulation? Breaking the seal? Using me as some.... tool?"

Darius stepped closer, voice low. "It started that way. But now... it's more than that."

Kaelen's heart skipped a beat.

"Don't lie to me again," he whispered.

"I won't," Darius said, and for once, his voice wasn't mocking. It was... almost tender. "I told you. You're mine. Not because the prophecy says so. But because I chose you."

Kaelen stared at him. Torn between rage, fear, and something far more dangerous.

Attraction.

The wind howled louder, magic sparking in the air like a storm about to break.

And Kaelen, caught between destiny and defiance, took one step forward.

"I'm not yours," he said. "But if I'm going to burn, I'll make sure you burn with me."

Darius smiled, fangs glinting. "Then let's burn together, Kaelen."