Kael’s hands trembled.

It was subtle, but he noticed.

The whisper had faded, but the weight of its presence remained, pressing against the edges of his thoughts like a phantom limb.

"It erased you."

He looked at the man—the nameless survivor, the one who had somehow lived with the Mark. Lived, but not untouched.

"You lost your name," Kael said, voice steadier than he felt. "What else?"

The man exhaled slowly. “More than I understood at the time.”

Kael felt his heartbeat in his ears. He had seen something, just for a moment. A battlefield, a fading figure, a name slipping from his grasp.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It wasn’t his memory.

And that terrified him.

The Mark didn’t just take things.

It replaced them.

"Why tell me this?" Kael asked.

"Because you're running out of time."

----------------------------------------

A gust of wind stirred the dust between them.

The nameless man turned, gaze shifting toward the distant ruins, toward the Imperium’s shadow that loomed over everything.

"You think you have choices," the man said. "That you can fight it. That you can be stronger than the Mark." He shook his head. "You can't. No one ever has."

Kael clenched his jaw. "Then why are you still here? If this thing is so absolute, why are you standing in front of me instead of rotting in the ground?"

The man’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Because I paid the price before it could take everything."

His words carried weight—a warning, or a challenge?

Kael’s grip tightened around his sword. "And you expect me to do the same?"

"I expect you to listen," the man said. "Because you are standing at the same threshold I once did. And if you make the wrong choice—"

A sound cut through the air.

A low, distant howl.

Kael stiffened.

The nameless man’s expression darkened. "They’ve found us."