CHAPTER 32: FOOTSTEPS AT DAYBREAK
Kael pressed a hand against the cold stone as he climbed the worn steps out of the makeshift cellar that had sheltered them overnight. The sun was little more than a pale glow behind thick clouds, its light falling in muted grays over a landscape scarred by centuries of decay. Every muscle in his body complained from the night’s cramped rest, and the wound along his ribs throbbed whenever he shifted.
Behind him, the hooded woman stepped into the weak morning light. She cast a quick glance at the sky and grimaced at the low-hanging gloom. The nameless man followed last, his boot scuffing loose rubble. Even in daylight, his expression remained difficult to read behind the shadows of his cowl, and Kael found himself wondering again at the secrets this man kept—particularly the faint sign of a Mark that Kael thought he had glimpsed during the temple battle.
They surveyed their surroundings in tense silence. The half-buried storehouse opened onto a broad courtyard ringed by toppled columns and arches. Weeds choked what might once have been a grand plaza, and shattered statues hinted at deities or heroes long forgotten. A cold wind tugged at their cloaks, stirring up dust as it whistled through the broken architecture.
Kael was the first to move. “We shouldn’t linger,” he said, though the rasp in his voice betrayed his fatigue. “The Imperium won’t ignore last night’s destruction.”
The hooded woman nodded. “They’ll assume you survived—and that you’re still nearby. We need to put distance between us and the temple ruins.”
The nameless man spoke quietly. “Did you see any signs of patrols?”
Kael shook his head. “No—but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. The Sovereign’s Chosen may have called for reinforcements, or they could be hunting us on their own.”
He almost shuddered at the thought of facing them again so soon. The clash in the temple still felt fresh: the knight’s unyielding sword, the sorceress’s writhing shadows, the silent assassin who’d nearly claimed the nameless man’s life. The Mark churned beneath Kael’s skin like a caged beast, hungry for another test of strength—or perhaps for something worse.
They followed a rubble-strewn walkway leading east. Broken stone tiles, once part of a grand mosaic, lay cracked underfoot. Kael couldn’t help but notice faded remnants of carved script near the edges of certain columns—writing older than the Imperium, older even than many records he had studied as an Inquisitor. The hooded woman slowed at one point, tracing a fingertip across the ancient text with a look of guarded curiosity, but then pressed on without comment.
Soon, they reached what might once have been a gatehouse, its iron portcullis long gone. Beyond it stretched a series of sunken roads, winding through more collapsed structures and overgrown courtyards. The sky remained a wash of gray, and a persistent drizzle began to fall. Water trickled through cracks in the stone, forming small, muddy rivulets that gurgled around piles of debris.
Kael and the hooded woman exchanged tense looks. A wet trail would be easier for trackers to follow. They needed a plan beyond just escaping.
“We should head for higher ground,” the woman suggested, pulling her cloak tighter. “Somewhere we can see if any search parties are coming.”
The nameless man grunted his agreement. “I know of a ledge that overlooks these ruins—a portion of the old city wall, half-collapsed but still passable. If we reach it, we might gain a vantage point.”
Kael forced himself to keep moving despite his throbbing ribs. He felt the Mark’s pulse with every step, the dull burn spreading up through his shoulder and across his chest. With each surge, the promise of power beckoned. Use me. The unspoken lure was as steady as his heartbeat. Let me protect you.
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He couldn’t deny that the Mark had saved him—multiple times. But at what cost? He recalled the warning from the nameless man who bore a similar brand: It does not simply grant power; it takes, too. Kael wondered how much of himself was left to give.
They wove through a labyrinth of toppled pillars and fractured walls until the path opened onto a broader avenue. On one side rose a tiered platform chiseled into a hillside, perhaps once part of a grand fortress. Now it was crumbling, a precarious mass of weathered stone. Jagged fractures suggested one well-placed strike could send half of it tumbling down.
Before they could climb higher, however, they came upon a jarring sight: a half-dozen stone statues, each weathered by centuries yet disturbingly lifelike. They formed a loose semicircle, faces twisted in expressions of terror or reverence—Kael couldn’t tell which. Lichen mottled their surfaces, giving the illusion of contorted flesh. The hooded woman halted abruptly, scanning each statue’s face as though expecting them to stir.
“What are these?” Kael asked, keeping his voice low.
The nameless man approached one statue—a figure reaching upward with outstretched arms. “Monuments, maybe. Or warnings.” He circled around it, tension visible in his shoulders. “This place was a city long before the Imperium rose. We don’t know what beliefs or powers these people worshipped.”
Kael frowned, remembering the monolith in the underground chamber, the Mark etched into its surface. Ancient, the nameless man had called it. Far older than Solmaris. It struck him that the entire region might be littered with clues to the Mark’s true nature, though deciphering them could prove as perilous as the Imperium’s pursuit.
A gust of cold wind swept between the statues, making them seem to shift in the corner of Kael’s vision. He clutched the hilt of his sword tighter, exhaling sharply to center himself. It’s just shadows playing tricks. Yet the uneasy atmosphere persisted.
“Let’s keep moving,” the hooded woman murmured, as though reluctant to linger under the statues’ silent scrutiny.
They skirted the group of eerie figures and followed an uneven track that wound uphill. The drizzle thickened into a light rain, slicking the stones beneath their feet. Kael’s side flared with pain whenever he misstepped, and the Mark flared in tandem, a steady throb of impatient power. He labored to climb, the humidity pressing in around him, turning breath into effort.
Eventually, they reached a narrow ledge that overlooked the ruins. A swath of broken architecture spread out below, shrouded by mist and rain. At the far edge of sight, a jagged silhouette marked what remained of the temple’s highest spire, half-swallowed by collapse. Kael’s mind replayed the confrontation there: the flash of the knight’s blade, the whipping shadows, the jarring quake of the temple floor as it collapsed.
He glanced at his companions. The hooded woman clung to the ledge, scanning for any sign of movement below. The nameless man stood a short distance away, favoring his injured arm. None of them spoke, but Kael could sense their shared unease. This vantage gave them a moment to rest—but also a clear view of the truth: the Imperium’s territory stretched far beyond these ruins, and they had nowhere to hide forever.
Turning to the hooded woman and the nameless man, Kael said quietly, “We need answers. About the Mark. About where we can go that the Imperium won’t find us.”
The woman nodded, wind tugging at her damp hood. “If such a place exists, we’ll have to search for it. But wandering aimlessly will only get us killed.”
The nameless man’s voice was solemn. “There may be old records scattered among these ruins—secret histories. We’re not the only ones who sought forbidden knowledge. Others may have left clues.”
Kael swallowed, gazing down at the ancient city, the weight of uncertainty pressing on his shoulders. “Then let’s find them before the Sovereign’s Chosen find us.”
A silent accord passed between the three. With the Mark pulsing against Kael’s will, they turned their backs on the broken skyline and began a slow descent, rain-soaked and exhausted, determined to seek the hidden truths that might grant them a future beyond the Imperium’s reach.
Yet even as Kael took those careful steps, he felt a prickle at the base of his neck—as though unseen eyes tracked their every move. The Mark throbbed in silent agreement, echoing that primal sense of being hunted. Dawn’s gray light offered no comfort. The next chapter of their perilous journey had only begun.