Chapter 2 — The Mark That Burns
The rune wouldn't let him sleep.
Kael collapsed against a rotting wall in the slums, body trembling. Fire raced under his skin—up his arm, into his skull. Every breath felt like swallowing glass.
He stared at the mark on his hand.
The pendant had shattered during the attack. The rune remained.
Silver and violet threads pulsed beneath his skin, vanishing and reappearing with every heartbeat.
*Get up.*
*If you stay, you die.*
The Gate-beast might return. Or the night gangs—sharks who smelled weakness in these concrete waters.
He stumbled through narrow alleys, each step agony. Dawn was close. The air tasted of wet trash and ozone.
He found shelter in an abandoned storage shed near the district's rusted fence. Dust choked the air. The scent of old metal and decay.
Kael slid down against a crate.
The rune's glow lit the gloom—a violet heartbeat in the dark.
The pain came in waves.
Deeper now. Like something inside him was clawing its way out.
**Whispers.**
Not in his ears. In his *bones*.
Guttural. Hungry. Words he couldn't understand but felt in his marrow—dread and wonder twisted together.
*Hours? Days?*
When he opened his eyes, grey dawn leaked through cracks in the walls. The rune's light had faded to a scar. But the mark stayed.
Etched into him.
The world felt… different.
He could *feel* energy now. Faint currents snaking under the city's skin.
His gaze snapped to the shed's broken door.
Out there—in the distance—a Gate shimmered. Still open. A wound in the daylight.
"You're lucky that thing didn't tear you apart."
Kael flinched.
A man stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dawn.
Worn Hunter armor. A scar cutting from brow to cheek. He held a broken spear, its blade crusted black.
"Saw you out there," the man said, stepping inside. His eyes were tired. Old. "No weapon. No sense. Just meat for the Gate."
Kael's throat was sandpaper. "Didn't have a choice."
The man snorted. "Yeah. Choices are for people who aren't starving." His eyes dropped to Kael's hand. To the faint silver mark.
He went very still.
"That's new," he finally said, voice tight. "Gate try to kill you? Now you're… different?"
Kael curled his fingers. "A pendant. It broke. This… happened."
The man's jaw tightened. "Relic runes don't wake for trash. That mark?" He met Kael's eyes. "It's a target. Some'll want to study you. Most'll want to cut it off you."
Kael looked toward the distant Gate. "What do I do?"
"Learn fast. Or die faster." The man turned to leave. "Academy's recruiting. Even the dreg classes are safer than these streets. That mark? They'll *have* to take you. Go. Before someone sees it… and decides skinning you's easier."
Kael opened his mouth—*Who are you? Why help?*
But the man was already gone. Faded into the city's grime like smoke.
Alone, Kael pressed his thumb hard into the rune.
Pain flared. Bright. Clean.
No choice now.
The world had cracked open. So had he.
He stepped into the dirty dawn.
Neon Avalon loomed—a city of lies and sharp teeth.
Kael Thorn, marked by a rune he didn't understand, walked toward it.
End of chapter 2