2 PRICE OF FREEDOM
The wind howled across the crags like a beast mourning the dead.
They had fled the Veiled Hand's sanctum two days ago — maybe three. The cold sun didn't rise properly here. It lurked, bleeding through ash-colored clouds, giving no warmth. The world beyond the veil was just as broken as what they'd escaped.
He woke to coughing. The girl.
Her breath was shallow, rattling. Fever clung to her like a second skin. She needed help. Shelter. Food. Medicine. Things he didn't have.
He rose, slowly. Every movement hurt. The Mark on his back hadn't stopped pulsing since they escaped. His body was failing. Every moment he used its power chipped away at what little life he had left.
He looked down at her.
Hold on, he muttered. I'll find something. I'll come back.
She didn't answer. Her eyes were closed. Still breathing, barely.
He turned toward the ridge, toward the dying forest ahead. The wind cut through him like blades.
The trees were wrong.
Twisted. Hollow. Their bark bled black sap, and their roots curled like broken fingers clawing at the soil. Crows perched in silence, heads tilted unnaturally sideways.
He kept moving.
Then — a sound.
A village. Or what remained of one. Ruined huts half-swallowed by the earth. Crumbled walls. Silence.
But not abandoned.
He heard movement.
And then, laughter. Ragged. Mad.
He crept forward, hand on a jagged piece of wood he'd sharpened. It wasn't much. But it was better than nothing.
The figure sat near the fire. Thin. Bones showing through skin. Smiling like he'd told himself the same joke a thousand times.
Another cursed one,the man rasped. I can smell it. The Mark. It's chewing you up, isn't it?
He didn't answer.
The man grinned wider.
You don't talk much. That's good. Words are expensive out here. You still got your soul?
Enough to end you if I have to.
The man laughed. Cackled. Coughed blood into the fire.
You're funny. You're already dying, kid. Look at you — skin pale, eyes hollow. Mark's already got its claws in your spine. You want to live?
He hesitated.
You know a way?
I know many ways. Most of them lead to death. But there's a place. Old soul-crafter lived there. Crazy bastard. Said he could slow the Mark. Maybe even stop it. East. Through the drowned forest.
And what do you want for that information?
The man's smile faded.
Nothing. I've already seen the end. Just once... I want someone else to fight it.
He nodded.
Then I will.
He turned. Left the man behind.
The drowned forest waited.
He returned to her. She hadn't moved. Her skin was clammy. But she was alive.
He built a small shelter out of branches and stone. He stayed with her through the night.
And dreamed.
Fire. Screams. A city crumbling.
And him, standing in the center. Cloaked in ash. Eyes empty. Power radiating from his body like a sun made of agony.
The Devourer's Mark consumed everything.
He reached out —
Stop.
The voice cut through the dream.
A woman. A shape of light. Holding back the fire.
You can still choose. You don't have to become him.
Who are you?
You were loved. Once. You forgot. But your soul remembers.
He woke in sweat. Heart pounding. The Mark quiet.
The girl stirred.
You... okay? she whispered.
I should be asking you that.
She smiled faintly.
Didn't think we'd survive. But... you stayed.
Of course I did.
Thank you.
He didn't answer. Just stared at the horizon.
East.
The drowned forest was worse than the name implied.
Waterlogged paths. Dead trees rising from black water. Insects buzzing. The air stank of mold and rot.
He carried her through it. Step by step. Until he couldn't.
His legs gave out. His breath came in wheezes.
The Mark throbbed.
Ahead — a ruin. A stone tower leaning sideways, half-swallowed by the swamp.
He crawled toward it.
A door. Rotted. He pushed it open and fell inside.
Darkness.
Then — a glow.
Blue light. Shapes moved. He tried to rise, to fight —
A hand caught his shoulder.
Stay down, fool. You'll tear your soul in half.
A voice like thunder wrapped in silk.
An old man, cloaked in robes that shimmered like oil.
You carry the Mark. And yet you live. Impressive. Idiotic. But impressive.
Can you help her? he gasped.
The man looked at the girl.
Soul sickness. Fever dreams. She's strong. But if you die, she dies. Is that what you want?
Help. Please.
The man sighed.
Very well. But understand this — I don't work miracles. Only delays.
Time passed strangely in the tower.
The man — his name was Aekir — was a soulcrafter. One of the last. He studied the Mark with fascination.
It's eating you from the inside, Aekir said. Like a candle burning at both ends. But... there is a way to slow it. A tether.
What kind?
You need to bind part of your soul outside yourself. Anchor it. It'll give you time. But the cost—
I'll pay it.
Aekir studied him.
You don't even know what it is yet.
Doesn't matter. I'm not dying here. Not like this.
The ritual was agony.
He screamed as Aekir carved glyphs into the floor with soul-ink.
Part of him peeled away — a piece of memory, of emotion.
He saw her face. The girl.
And for a moment — forgot who she was.
It's done, Aekir said.The tether will hold. For now. But you've lost something. You always will.
How long do I have?
Weeks. Maybe a few months. Unless you find the source. The First Mark.
Where?
North. In the Hollowed Peaks. But be warned — it's guarded. By the one who first wore it.
He stood.
Looked at the girl.
She smiled.
You look stronger.
I am. But I forgot your name.
Her smile faltered.
It's okay. I'll remind you. As many times as it takes.
He swallowed hard.
Then let's go. We've got a curse to kill.
To Be Continued...