CHAPTER 31: REFLECTIONS BEFORE DAWN

Kael stirred awake to the faint sound of water dripping. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t remember where he was—only that his entire body ached, and his side burned with a pulsing throb that mirrored the beat of his heart. The memory came rushing back: the temple’s collapse, the harrowing fight against the Sovereign’s Chosen, and their flight through endless ruins until they found this cramped, half-buried storeroom.

He sat up slowly, leaning against the rough wall. A jagged crack overhead allowed a sliver of moonlight to seep in, illuminating a small patch of the floor. The hooded woman knelt near that shaft of light, silent and still. She had removed her cloak to drape it over the nameless man—who appeared to be sleeping, his back propped against a broken crate. Her hair, dark and tangled, hung loose around her shoulders, framing a face taut with worry.

Kael drew in a careful breath, each inhale tinged with the iron taste of his own drying blood. The Mark was quiet for the moment, a low and distant heat coiling beneath his skin. He almost preferred it that way; whenever it flared up, it always felt as though another presence looked out through his eyes, weighing every thought and emotion.

He cleared his throat softly. “My turn for the watch?”

The woman shifted, giving him a faint nod. “If you can manage it.” Her voice was flat, but not unkind. “How’s the wound?”

Kael forced a small shrug. “I’m not dead, so that’s something.”

She eyed him, concern flickering in her gaze. “Let me see.”

He obliged, tugging aside the makeshift bandage enough for her to peer at the shallow gash. Her earlier attempt at healing had sealed the worst of it, but dried blood still matted his tunic. The skin around the cut was bruised and inflamed, and moving too quickly sent a stabbing ache through his ribs.

“You’ll live,” she said quietly, though her mouth pressed into a thin line. “But we should find better supplies soon. If infection sets in…”

Kael nodded. He’d seen men die from minor wounds that turned foul on the battlefield. It was a slow, miserable way to go. “We’ll find something,” he murmured, unsure if he believed it.

Rising stiffly, he limped across the cramped space, stepping over broken pottery and a scattering of ancient debris. He settled near the entryway, where a few stones stacked precariously high created a vantage that let him peer up the worn steps. The rubble overhead formed an uneven roof, but there was just enough clearance to keep watch on anything—or anyone—trying to approach.

The hooded woman joined him, though she kept her distance. They sat in silence for a time. Only the drip-drip-drip of water breaking the hush, echoing through unseen cracks in the walls.

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Kael’s thoughts turned to the nameless man, now dozing in uneasy slumber. He marveled at how the man had faced that silent assassin—someone whose skill rivaled the Imperium’s elite—and emerged alive. There was clearly more to the nameless man than a mere survivor. Kael suspected that some trace of the Mark, or a similar power, ran in the man’s veins. He recalled glimpsing something on the man’s wrist mid-battle, but he couldn’t be certain. For now, it remained a mystery.

“Are we truly safe here?” Kael asked, keeping his voice low.

The woman shook her head. “Safe is a relative word. We’re… hidden, for the moment. The Imperium would have to scour every broken corridor and half-buried room to find us. But they might, if they think you’re worth it.”

“Me,” Kael echoed, letting the bitterness seep through. “Or the Mark.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “They see no difference. You carry the Imperium’s greatest fear inside you.”

Kael closed his eyes for a moment, a surge of frustration welling in his chest. He recalled his days as an Inquisitor—following orders, hunting alleged heretics, and never questioning why. The Imperium had always felt larger than life, an unassailable force. Now, he was the one they hunted, branded by a power they themselves couldn’t control.

“Do you regret it?” the woman asked suddenly.

“Regret what?” Kael replied, opening his eyes.

“Touching the Mark.” She glanced at him sidelong. “Everything that’s happened… it all started with that moment. If you could go back—”

Kael frowned, considering. A part of him wanted to scream yes—he had lost his home, his allies, and his very sense of self. But he also remembered the final days before discovering the Mark: the missions he carried out in the Imperium’s name, the uneasy feeling that something was terribly wrong with their righteous facade. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice rough. “I hate what’s happened. But… maybe this was meant to be. Maybe it forced me to see the truth.”

She studied him in silence. “You’re braver than you think, Kael.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “I’m just trying to survive.”

“Aren’t we all?”

They let the quiet return, each lost in private thoughts. Kael forced himself to remain alert, scanning the faint light that filtered through the stones. Yet in the periphery of his mind, the Mark stirred again—a faint, insistent pulse. It was never fully dormant, always whispering of the power he could wield if he just abandoned restraint.

He gritted his teeth. Not tonight. Not while he could still clutch some sense of autonomy in the darkness.

Slowly, the moon sank behind the jagged ruins. The night grew deeper, colder. Kael held watch as best he could, wincing whenever his injured side flared with pain. The hooded woman maintained her wary vigilance, occasionally walking the perimeter of the small chamber. Hours dragged on, and fatigue gnawed at Kael’s weary muscles.

At last, a subtle light began to suffuse the sky, pale and uncertain—the first suggestion of dawn. Kael felt an odd mix of relief and dread. Surviving the night was one small victory, but daylight brought its own dangers. They would need to move soon, to stay ahead of any search parties. And in time, they’d have to decide where this road led them next.

The nameless man stirred awake, blinking against the faint morning glow. Meeting Kael’s eyes, he gave a slight nod, as if acknowledging they were both still alive—still burdened by the Mark’s secrets. The hooded woman paused near the door, tension coiled in her posture.

“Dawn,” she said under her breath. “Time to go.”

Kael rose, ignoring the twinge of pain. Whatever lay ahead, it had to be faced. The Mark warmed in his arm, a silent promise—or threat—of what might come next.