The stars no longer watched. They waited.
The wind had quieted, the smoke faded. But the sky felt wrong now, like something just beneath its surface had begun to breathe.
Rael sat in the ashes, the weight of the village's silence pressing against his chest. He stared at the faint violet lines pulsing beneath his skin. They crawled across his forearms, twisting like roots, glowing softly before dimming again.
It wasn't fading. It was settling. Claiming him.
The longer he sat, the stronger the sensation became. He could feel it in his blood, like whispers rising from a long-forgotten grave.
Then he felt eyes on him.
Across the village square, perched atop the broken beams of the Elder's Hall, stood a man cloaked in tattered blue. A crooked staff rested in his hand. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but Rael could feel the weight of his gaze.
The man didn't move. Didn't speak. He only watched.
Rael stood slowly. His knees trembled, but his voice was steady.
"Who are you?"
The man tilted his head slightly, then spoke. Not with his mouth, but directly into Rael's mind.
"So. The Veinscar awakens again."
The words hit like a blow. Rael's chest tightened.
"What did you say?"
"You don't know yet. That's expected."
The man leapt down, landing with unnatural grace. He walked toward Rael, slow and deliberate.
"The right question is not who I am. The right question is what you are."
Rael stepped back, instinctively raising his arm. The air around him seemed to twist. Blood from the corpses nearby began to stir, lifting in threads, spiraling into the air.
He didn't will it. He simply thought, and it obeyed.
The man stopped a few paces away, observing him with quiet amusement.
"You feel it now. Don't you? The beat beneath your thoughts. The pulse that isn't yours."
"What's happening to me?"
"You're awakening. The old blood remembers."
Rael's vision blurred. He clenched his fists to keep steady, but the earth beneath him quivered. Blood traced symbols in the dirt, unbidden. Symbols he didn't understand, but somehow recognized.
"I should be dead," Rael whispered. "They killed everyone. Why not me?"
The man's face shifted slightly in the moonlight. One of his eyes was missing, replaced by a glowing brand.
"Because you carry the blood they feared most. A lineage thought extinct. One older than the noble Houses. Older than the gods."
Rael staggered back. "You're lying."
The man extended his staff. The tip glowed faint red, and the glyphs in the dirt flared in response.
"You are the last known heir of the First Vein. And they will hunt you for it."
Rael's mind reeled. His heart pounded. The pain returned, rising from within like a scream.
"What do they want?"
"To bury you. To burn you. To end your line before it wakes fully. They failed once. They won't again."
The man turned and began walking toward the trees.
"Come with me, or die here alone. The Scions of the Houses will come soon. And they will not ask questions."
Rael hesitated, glancing back at the ruins of Hollowmere. The place that was once his world.
Then he stepped into the ashes and followed the stranger into the dark.