The forest turned dead silent.
Not the quiet kind.
The wrong kind.
Like the trees were afraid to rustle.
Like even the dirt refused to breathe.
The figure dragging the coffin stepped into full view.
Red chains clinked behind him, binding his arms and legs—but he moved like they were part of him.
Coker squinted. "What the hell..."
The stranger's cloak was tattered. His face was covered in a rusted mask, stitched to his skin with metal thread. Only one eye showed—black as pitch, glowing faintly from within.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The coffin scraped across the roots like bone on stone.
Elira stepped in front of Coker, sword drawn. "Don't move."
The man didn't stop.
"I am the Herald of Binding," he said in a deep, cracked voice. "I come not to fight."
Naia's eye twitched. "Then why do you smell like blood and graves?"
He paused.
"To deliver a truth... buried."
He dropped the chains.
And the coffin opened.
Inside lay a body.
Charred. Broken. Shriveled like dried meat.
But on its chest… burned into the skin… was a mark.
Not red. Not blue. Not violet.
Not even black.
It was a spiral of gold and white, twisting inwards, glowing faintly even in death.
Lira stepped back, breath caught. "That's not possible."
The Herald turned to her.
"You were taught there were seven. You were told the Vessels were sealed by gods. That their marks are final."
He pointed at the body.
"This one was never meant to exist."
Coker stared. "What does that mean?"
The Herald's voice grew colder.
"It means there is an Eighth Mark. A god that was never sealed. A memory that survived on its own."
He stepped forward again, his chains dragging.
"They buried this body in silence. Never recorded it in the history of the Sealing War. Your leaders feared it."
Elira narrowed her eyes. "Feared what?"
The Herald answered softly.
"That the Eighth is not a god of power…
But a god of choice."
Naia whispered, "That's why they erased it."
"Correct," the Herald said. "The others control fire. Storm. Time. Blood. Death."
"But the Eighth controls will."
The air shifted.
Suddenly, Coker couldn't breathe right.
Something in his chest pulled, like a hook had just been stabbed into his ribs.
His mark burned hotter.
Lira clutched her head. "Do you feel that?"
Naia stepped back. "It's like my thoughts are… changing."
The Herald nodded slowly.
"The god of Will was the only one to reject sealing. It left no heir. It vanished. Until recently…"
He looked at Coker.
Dead silent.
"...Until you awakened."
Coker blinked. "No. My mark is red. It's Kael's. Right?"
The Herald tilted his head.
"Or so you believed."
He knelt beside the coffin.
"There is only one way to prove your nature, boy."
He raised a rusted hand.
And pointed toward the corpse.
"Touch it."
The others moved at once.
Naia: "Don't—"
Elira: "Wait—think—"
Lira: "Coker, it could be a trap!"
But something in him was already moving.
His feet carried him forward.
His hand reached out.
His fingers touched the body.
And the world exploded.
[Inside the Seal – Vision]
He stood in a void.
No sky.
No earth.
Just light. Swirling. Infinite.
A voice spoke—not loud. Not soft. Just clear.
"You carry more than fire."
"You carry the will to defy."
Coker looked down.
His mark pulsed—red and gold, now tangled like two flames fighting for shape.
"Kael's power chose you."
"But something older has chosen you too."
Coker fell to his knees.
"I don't want to destroy anything…"
"Then change the ending."
[Back to Reality]
Coker gasped, collapsing as the mark on his hand blazed gold and red.
Everyone ran to him.
Naia knelt. "Coker—!"
"I'm fine," he said, still shaking. "But I saw something. I heard a voice."
Elira held his wrist, studying the glow. "Your mark... it's changing."
Lira whispered, "He has two."
The Herald stood, chains rattling.
"Not two. One god, split across time. A will that refused to be sealed, and a flame that died screaming."
Naia stared at him. "So what does that make Coker?"
The Herald grinned under his mask.
"It makes him the first Vessel of Rebellion."
Thunder cracked above them.
The coffin slammed shut on its own.
And the Herald raised a hand, chains wrapping around his body again.
"I've delivered the truth."
"Now what?" Elira asked. "You vanish into mist too?"
"No," he said calmly. "Now I leave before the others arrive."
"Others?"
"The ones who were meant to find the Eighth."
He looked at Coker one last time.
"Run, Mage."
"You carry more than fate now."
"You carry freedom."