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Mark of the Forsaken
The Forsaken’s Choice

The Forsaken’s Choice

Kael stood motionless.

The word hung in the air, echoing through the cavern like a sentence passed down from some unseen judge.

Forsaken.

He had been called many things in the last few days. Traitor. Heretic. Monster.

But this was something different.

His gaze flicked across the gathered figures—cloaked, silent, waiting. He didn’t know them. He didn’t trust them. But they knew him.

The man who had spoken—the one with sharp eyes and the weight of years in his voice—studied Kael carefully, as if seeing something beyond flesh.

"You have questions," the man said.

Kael’s fingers curled. "And you have answers?"

The man’s lips tilted in something that might have been amusement. "Some." He gestured toward the torch-lit passage behind him. "Walk with me."

Kael didn’t move immediately. He had spent too much time in the last few days being led places he didn’t understand, surrounded by people who wanted something from him.

But the Mark burned beneath his skin, reminding him that answers were no longer a luxury. They were a necessity.

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He exhaled slowly, then stepped forward.

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The passage was narrow, the walls rough with ancient carvings, half-erased by time.

"You know what they call you now," the man said as they walked. "But do you know what it means?"

Kael’s jaw tightened. "No."

"Forsaken," the man repeated. "It is not a title given lightly. The Imperium uses it to brand those who have fallen from their favor. But the truth?" He glanced at Kael. "It means you have something they cannot control."

Kael’s thoughts churned. "The Mark."

"Not just the Mark," the man corrected. "Plenty have been branded with it before. Few survive. Even fewer awaken."

Kael stopped walking. "Then why am I still alive?"

The man turned to face him fully. "Because the Imperium’s greatest mistake was thinking it could burn the past out of existence."

A chill ran down Kael’s spine. The past?

"You’ve seen the ruins," the man continued. "You’ve felt the power stirring beneath them. The Imperium wasn’t the first empire to rule this world. And it won’t be the last."

Kael’s mind raced. He had always known the Imperium erased history. Rewrote it. Controlled knowledge as a weapon.

But this man wasn’t just suggesting that the Imperium had hidden some inconvenient truths.

He was suggesting that the entire foundation of their empire was built on a lie.

Kael’s voice was quiet when he spoke again. "What do you want from me?"

The man’s expression didn’t change. "The same thing the Imperium wants."

Kael’s muscles tensed. That wasn’t an answer.

The man exhaled. "What we want is irrelevant, Forsaken. The question is—what do you want?"

Kael felt the weight of the moment settle onto him.

For the first time since this nightmare began, someone was asking him to choose.

Not forcing him. Not ordering him.

Choosing.

And that, somehow, was more terrifying than anything else.