The nightmares came first.
Not dreams. Not memories.
Nightmares that bled into reality.
Arav would wake up gasping, his skin burning where the strange red marks pulsed — one more each night. Symbols in a language no one spoke, etched across his chest like some cursed scripture.
He didn't tell anyone.
Not Zia.
Not his mother.
Not even the village priest who came by with his quiet warnings and sacred ash.
Because deep down, Arav already knew...
> "This wasn't a curse given to me…"
"It was something… I was always meant to find."
---
The villagers had started whispering.
He could feel their eyes — suspicious, cold, sometimes afraid. The forest incident had become gossip. And though Arav had returned alive, many said he didn't come back alone.
---
That morning, something changed.
He was returning from the well, a bucket of water sloshing at his side, when it happened.
A stray dog — one that always wagged its tail around him — suddenly froze. Its ears flattened. It growled… then whimpered… then ran.
Arav turned to the shadows.
And he saw it.
A figure, tall, black-robed, with a mask that had no eyes — only carvings like the marks on his skin. It stood across the narrow path, silent, unmoving.
Arav blinked.
It vanished.
But the water in the bucket had frozen. And the ground where the figure stood… was now scorched.
> "What the hell is happening to me?" he whispered.
---
Zia noticed it first. The distance.
He wasn't talking as much. He didn't laugh. His eyes had lost that softness they once carried — replaced now by something darker. He was still Arav… but something else had taken root inside him.
> "You're hiding something," she said, confronting him one evening. "And I'm not leaving until you tell me."
Arav looked away.
> "Do you remember that sword?"
> "Of course. You were half-dead when we found you."
He took a breath.
> "It's not gone."
Zia's expression shifted.
> "What do you mean?"
> "I mean… it's inside me. Not like possession… but like it's bound. I can feel it when I'm angry. When I'm afraid. Like it wants to come out."
Zia stepped back slightly, her lips parting, unsure what to say.
> "You don't believe me…"
> "No. I do. That's what scares me."
---
That night, he was marked again.
The fifth symbol. On the back of his neck. It burned worse than before.
He tried to stay awake, but the pain pulled him under — into another vision.
This time, he wasn't on the battlefield.
He was buried.
Alive.
Trapped inside a stone coffin, hearing whispers echoing above him — voices in that same cursed language. He clawed at the stone, his nails bleeding, his screams muffled — until suddenly...
A hand reached in.
Not to pull him out — but to push him deeper.
He gasped and woke up drenched in sweat. His room felt colder, the windows fogged from inside. And written on the mirror — in breath — were the words:
> "The first soul awaits."
---
He didn't have to wait long to understand.
The very next day, the village square fell into chaos.
A man — one of the blacksmith's sons — began attacking his own father with a hammer, screaming nonsense about demons and visions. His eyes were white, and he kept repeating:
> "He brought it. He brought it back!"
Arav stood frozen nearby, watching it all.
Until the man turned…
And looked straight at him.
> "You. You were chosen. You brought the curse here!"
The villagers turned toward Arav. Zia pushed through, grabbing his arm, pulling him away.
> "Run."
They sprinted through the market, dodging carts and people, as behind them, the cries rose louder:
> "Witch! Demon! The cursed boy!"
That night, Zia found him near the edge of the forest.
> "You need to leave."
> "Leave?"
> "They're going to come for you, Arav. You're not safe here anymore."
> "But… I didn't do anything."
> "You don't have to. People fear what they don't understand. And right now, they don't understand you."
Silence.
Then…
> "Come with me," he said.
Zia froze.
> "I can't."
> "Why?"
> "My father. My family. I can't just disappear."
Arav looked away, trying to hide the pain behind his eyes.
> "Then this is goodbye…"
> "No," she said. "This is a pause. I'll find you."
And with one last look, Arav turned toward the forest — the only place left that didn't fear him.
---
As he crossed the tree line, he felt it.
The first mark… flared.
The sword awakened.
And from behind the trees, came a voice — deep, ancient, cracked like thunder:
> "Welcome… bearer. Your journey begins now."