Rein hadn’t noticed her return.

One moment, she was gone—disappeared into ash and moonless dark like a sulking shadow.

The next, she was beside him again. Closer than before.

No apology. No comment. Just fingers toying with his sleeve like she’d never left.

It should have been a quiet night.

They hadn’t made a fire, but they sat close anyway—closer than usual.

The blight warped the cold here, made it sticky, like fingers brushing your neck in the dark. No one liked being alone in it.

Zeraka had positioned herself directly at Rein’s side, tail wrapping possessively around his ankle.

Valaithe leaned against his other shoulder, humming tunelessly into his ear.

Elaris kept her blade balanced on her lap and didn’t blink once.

Caelia stood like a pillar just outside the circle, arms folded, eyes on the dark beyond.

Only Iris moved.

She was pacing in slow circles, barefoot on corrupted ground, whispering to herself in the dead language of her cult.

"Something is wrong," she murmured.

"Something islistening."

Rein looked at her.

And the mark on his chesttingled.

That’s when the man arrived.

He came walking from the trees.

Not stumbled.

Not hunted.

He walked like he belonged there.

He had no shoes, no weapons, no eyes. Just empty sockets where flesh should’ve been.

His white robes were rotted, stitched in crooked spirals that almost looked like binding glyphs.

His skin was too smooth. His mouth too closed.

His hands, though—

They werered.

Wet and gleaming, as if he’d dipped them in someone’s opened heart.

Elaris rose before anyone else.

"Don’t move," she said, low and lethal.

Zeraka tensed, claws halfway out.

Valaithe tilted her head, amused and horrified.

Rein stood—slowly.

Something inside him pulled toward the priest, not with fear... butrecognition.

The priest didn’t speak.

He knelt before Rein.

No reverence.

No ceremony.

Just... folded.

"That’s not right," Caelia said.

"He’s not praying."

"He’ssurrendering."

Zeraka lunged.

Not for the priest.

For Rein.

To pull him back.

Too late.

The priest’s head lifted—

Andcrumbled.

No sound. No pain. No scream.

The body dissolved like dust caught in reverse.

Like it had never been whole.

But his blood didn’t fall.

It floated.

It spun in the air—spelling symbols not meant for mouths.

Irisscreamed.

The first time anyone had heard her do it.

She collapsed to her knees, covering her ears.

"Don’t look," she gasped. "Don’t hear it. Don’t—"

Too late.

The blood hardened midair into words everyone could read —

One demon shall break.

One god shall kneel.

One lie shall become your truth.

Zeraka stared at it, lips curling.

"Whichdemon?"

"Tell me now."

Valaithe whispered,

"If it’s me, I’ll break better."

Caelia didn’t blink. She only said,

"One of us dies. One of them kneels. And Rein believes something that never happened."

"That’s not a prophecy."

"It’s a war plan."

Elaris took Rein’s hand.

Her grip wasn’t tender.

"Are you listening?"

"This isn’t fate. This isbait."

Rein didn’t move.

His hand... was cold.

He stared at the blood-runes.

Because something about the third lineached.

"One lie shall become your truth."

And in that moment,he wondered—

What if he’d already started believing it?

What if everything—every touch, every kiss, every wound—had been a story someone else was writing through him?

Iris crawled forward, shaking.

"That wasn’t a priest."

"It wasn’t even a man."

"It was... memory.Given shape."

"Somethingremembersyou, Rein."

"Something ancient."

"And it wants to watch you fall in love with the wrong ending."

The group was silent now.

Not frozen.

Not stunned.

But thinking.

Calculating.

Even Zeraka looked over at Valaithe with narrowed eyes.

Valaithe didn’t meet her gaze.

And Rein?

He stood in the middle of the circle.

Marked.

Blood-lettered.

Chosen again—

Not by fate.

Not by gods.

But bysomething watching through the cracks.

They woke to silence.

Not peace.

Absence.

Rein was the first to notice.

The air was different.

Lighter.

Like a pressure had lifted, not eased.

He looked to the stone where Iris had sat the night before—barefoot, muttering, always watching him like she was halfway between worship and prophecy.

Now...

Nothing.

Just a faint indentation in the moss.

A single thread of red silk caught on a jagged rock.

And carved beside it—one rune.

He stepped closer.

It pulsed faintly when his eyes met it.

The same rune she had whispered when she first attacked him.

The word for "Before."

Not a threat.

Not a farewell.

Atrigger.

Zeraka noticed the empty space next.

She stood with a low growl, tail lashing.

"Where is she."

Not a question.

A demand.

Valaithe stretched, slowly, as if she hadn’t noticed.

"Gone?"

"Tired of being third wheel, maybe?"

Caelia was already moving, scanning the perimeter, eyes narrowed.

"No signs of a struggle."

"No tracks leading out. No flight. No teleport sigil."

"She didn’t run."

"Sheevaporated."

Elaris spoke without looking up.

"Or someone helped her vanish."

A beat of silence.

Then all eyes turned to Valaithe.

Zeraka’s voice was low.

"You left last night."

"You could’ve followed her. Killed her. Dragged her somewhere."

Valaithe blinked slowly.

Then smiled, sweet and feral.

"If I’d wanted her gone... you’d all be tripping over the bones."

Rein stepped between them before it could erupt.

His voice was quiet.

Measured.

"She left the rune."

"It’s not random."

"It’s for me."

Caelia frowned.

"You can read it?"

"Not the word."

"Theintent."

He didn’t know how he knew that.

But it felt right.

He crouched in front of it.

The mark shimmered faintly under his breath.

For a heartbeat, he saw her face—

—not now, but then—

blood in her mouth, blade in her hand, eyes soft with something terrifying and beautiful.

"She’s not running," Rein said aloud.

"She’spreparing."

Elaris sheathed her blade with a slow exhale.

"For what?"

Rein didn’t answer.

Because he already knew.

For him.

Later, when the others had scattered briefly to scout the edges of the corrupted temple, Rein remained.

Staring at the rune.

Not moving.

Not breathing.

Valaithe stepped beside him, gaze unreadable.

"You’re scared."

Rein didn’t look at her.

"Aren’t you?"

She smiled faintly.

"Only of losing you."

"And maybe a little... of what’s watchingthroughyou."

Then she kissed his temple.

Gentle.

Not seductive.

Just there.

Like a claim.

Like a comfort.

Like a reminder.

She had not vanished.

She would never vanish.

Rein touched the rune again.

And whispered a name.

Not hers.

His own.

Because she’d written it before he was born.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com