The wind in this place bit harder.
Colder. Heavier. And it reeked of something unnatural—sulfur, old blood, and ozone crackling through the thin air.
Ethan stumbled to his feet, snow crushing beneath his boots. The sky above was no longer the soft grey of the northern tundras. It was rust-red, split with veins of black lightning. The world around him felt wrong.
Kael stood beside him, silent, his fractured mark glowing faintly in the gloom.
"Where are we?" Ethan asked, steadying his breath.
"Between realms," Kael replied. "This place is called the Hollow Path. A scar left behind after the Rift Wars. It's not supposed to exist anymore."
"Perfect," Ethan muttered. "From one cursed place to another."
He looked around. Jagged rocks jutted from the frozen ground like broken ribs. The sky shimmered like glass above them, fractured in places, leaking strands of Voidlight. In the distance, a colossal gate—far older than any Guild design—stood crooked, half-collapsed.
Kael pointed. "That's our way out. If it still holds."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "And if it doesn't?"
Kael's mouth curved into a grim line. "Then we die here. Slowly."
They began walking. Time flowed strangely in the Hollow Path. Minutes stretched and collapsed in strange rhythms. One moment the gate was miles away—then only a few hundred steps.
But with every step forward, Ethan felt the mark pulsing stronger. Not in pain—but in recognition.
As if it knew this place.
As if it had been here before.
---
"Tell me something," Ethan said, keeping his voice low as they hiked. "Why do you still have your mark?"
Kael glanced at him. "Because I never gave it up."
"You said you led the rebellion. That you tried to fix things. What happened?"
Kael was quiet for a moment. "The truth? I failed."
He pulled back part of his collar, revealing jagged burn scars around the edges of his Beastmark.
"The Council tried to erase me. Said I was too dangerous to live. I barely escaped through an unstable gate. But the mark… it never left. It just changed."
Ethan nodded slowly. "You fought for the Rift once. Why help me now?"
Kael's voice was quiet. "Because I've seen what happens if the mark is used wrong."
Before Ethan could ask more, the ground trembled beneath them. Not a natural quake. Something beneath was moving—shifting.
Kael froze. "Run."
A claw—massive, skeletal, and dripping with shadow—burst through the ground behind them. Ethan turned and sprinted with Kael, the ancient beast rising behind them like a nightmare born from smoke and bone.
Its face was featureless. A swirling void, teeth gleaming within a sea of shifting mist. It screeched, and the sound shattered nearby rocks.
"That's not a Rift beast!" Ethan yelled.
"It's a Veil Warden," Kael shouted. "It protects the Hollow Path!"
"I thought you said this place shouldn't exist!"
"Exactly!"
They reached the broken gate. Runes glowed along its frame, half-dimmed but still pulsing faintly with power. Kael reached into his cloak, pulled out a shard of blue crystal, and slammed it into the center sigil.
The gate resisted.
Cracks bloomed across its frame.
"Come on, come on—"
The Warden lunged.
Ethan turned, raised his blade, and channeled everything the mark gave him. Shadows coiled up his arm. His eyes burned blue. The sword ignited with Voidlight and fire.
He slashed the air.
A wave of pure force roared outward, slamming into the beast and sending it staggering—but not falling. Not even close.
Kael shouted, "Now!"
The gate burst open with a howl of wind.
They leapt through.
---
The fall through space was shorter this time.
Ethan slammed down into wet stone, coughing hard as Kael rolled beside him. They were in a cavern. Underground. Warm air rushed past them, and torches flickered along the walls.
Ethan groaned. "Please tell me we're not still in the Hollow Path."
Kael shook his head. "No. This is somewhere else. A stronghold."
"Whose?"
Before Kael could answer, heavy footsteps echoed from the far corridor.
Figures emerged—three cloaked warriors in dark armor, their faces masked, weapons drawn. But what made Ethan freeze was what glowed on their armor:
The mark. His mark.
One of them stepped forward and lowered their hood.
She was young. Maybe a few years older than Ethan. Her eyes glowed faintly. Not blue—white.
"You've returned," she said.
Ethan blinked. "Do I… know you?"
She smiled. "Not yet. But I've known you all my life."
Kael bowed slightly beside Ethan. "This is Serin. One of the last Marksworn."
Ethan looked between them, confused. "What's a Marksworn?"
Serin placed her hand over her heart.
"We are the remnants of the ancient guard," she said softly. "Sworn to protect the bearer. To ensure the Beastmarked never falls to darkness again."
Ethan felt the weight of her words settle into his bones.
He wasn't just chosen.
He was expected.
---