Ashvael stood before the mirror motionless, his heart rattling against his ribs like beast in cage trying to escape. The light in bathroom flickering, casting erratic shadows across the tiled walls. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple, clinging to his jaw before falling to the floor with a soft, final tap.
Visions still burned in his eyes- the throne, the devoured heart and the voice which seem older than time itself.
Silent around him felt too sharp like a blade being hold onto throat.
He looked down, rolling the edge of his shirt.
The mark was still there etched into his skin like a tattoo forged by death itself. It was neither a symbol he recognized nor one he wanted to. Black lines curved into a jagged crown, surrounded by something like a spiral or an eye, constantly shifting in his peripheral vision. It pulsed, not with light, but presence.
He raised a hand to his face.
Started rubbing, rough and slow, as if the raw scrape of skin against skin might dull the noise rattling inside his skull.
It didn't help. Not really.
But he kept doing it anyway.
Over and over. Desperate. Pointless.
Until he heard the call.
"You feel it now, don't you?" Lux's voice came, not in the air, but somewhere in him.
Don't do that,"Ashvael muttered. Don't act like this is normal."
"It is normal," Lux answered softly. "For someone who has been marked."
Ashvael gripping the sink for balance. The man in the mirror appeared different—eyes wide, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, pale face hollowed out by dread.
He looked like someone who had seen a god die.
And in a way, he had.
"What the hell is happening to me?" he whispered.
"You were shown something not meant seen by mortals ," Lux said
calm and measured. "You stood before a shadow that should not exist anymore… and it saw you."
Ashvael turned away from the mirror. "Why me?"
"Because something inside you didn't look away."
The words slammed into his chest harder than the voice. His lips parted, but no sound came. That moment… when the Monarch had crushed that soldier's heart…
he hadn't run.
Hadn't screamed.
He had watched. Frozen,
yes—but still watching.
A sick feeling curled in his gut. "That doesn't mean I'm like him."
Lux replied
No you are not "But it means you could be."
Ashvael clenched his fists.
and shouted
"I'm not a killer."
Lux replied calmly,
"Yet you are marked by one. You carry his memory. His power. His final words."
Ashvael got out from the bathroom still shirtless, still sweating. His house was dimly lit, just the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant honking from the street below. But it felt... different like is not from this world.
He stood in his room trembling slightly.
Tell me truth Lux His voice shook. "Was that a dream?"
"No."
Ashvael's breathing hitched.
"You saw the last moments of a being who scorched the sky. His mind, his memories, everything he was—it reached out to you. You weren't just a witness. You were chosen."
"Chosen for what?" Ashvael snapped, voice raw.
Lux replied, " I Don't know why you were chosen but the monarch choose you"
Maybe monarch doesn't have choice, maybe there is something else but at last you are the chosen.
Ashvael wanted to scream his lung out, he wanted rip that mark of his chest Pretend none of this was real. But the weight of that invisible pressure in the room told him there was no going back.
Ashvael moved toward the window and parted the curtain. The city outside looked normal. Neon signs flickered. Cars rolled past. People walked like ants beneath streetlights. Unaware. Untouched.
Ashvael asked lux "Who the are you, really?
There was a pause. Then:
"I was made to serve the Monarch. An echo of intelligence, shaped by his will. I am not alive. I am not dead. I am the voice that remains even if monarch is not around ."
"And now you're mine?"
"No," Lux said. "I am with you. That is different."
Ashvael took a step back. "So you're not going to protect me?"
"No. But I'll warn you when to run."
He let out a laugh, humorless and cracked. "Great. Just what I need."
He walked toward the bed and dropped onto it, burying his face into pillow. His body was beginning to ache his muscles tense, lungs sore from all the shallow breaths. His nerves felt stretched thin.
But one thing was clear.
He couldn't pretend anymore.
Not after that vision.
Not with this mark.
And not with Lux whispering truths like razors in his mind.
He sat in silence for what felt like hours. No voice. No movement. Just the faint sound of the clock ticking above the kitchen.
And then, almost gently, Lux spoke again.
"Ashvael… what you saw… it was not meant to frighten you."
Ashvael raised his head.
"It was meant to prepare you."