The hills beyond Ashroad were usually quiet—rolling slopes where deer grazed and mist gathered at dawn. But that morning, the wind carried something sharp, something old. The elders had warned the younger hunters not to wander too far, but Kaelen, Mira, and Flint had followed whispers of a cave said to predate even the founding of the Great Tribes.
The entrance yawned before them like the mouth of a slumbering beast.
Flint squinted into the darkness.
"Looks inviting. Maybe we'll find some friendly skeletons. You know, the kind that don't try to stab you in the ribs."
Mira ignored him, tracing her hand along the rough stone. Strange lines shimmered faintly, buried deep in the rock, as though the walls themselves remembered an ancient script.
"These are fragments of the Golden Road," she murmured. "Writings from the First Era, when cultivators shaped the laws themselves. Be cautious. Some things sleep for a reason."
Kaelen stepped closer. The symbols seemed to pulse in time with the ember that always burned in his chest. Each glow matched the rhythm of his heartbeat.
They descended carefully. Broken pillars jutted from the ground, fractured like teeth. Shards of glassy stone littered the floor, humming faintly with energy. In the silence, every breath sounded like an intrusion.
Flint shuffled nervously, kicking a pebble. The sound bounced through the cavern like a shout.
"Yeah, I'm getting bad vibes. Can we agree not to touch anything that looks like it wants to eat our souls?"
But Kaelen had already stopped before a half-collapsed altar at the cavern's heart. Its surface bore a carving that glowed faintly gold, fractured but not broken. Unlike the other symbols, this one seemed alive.
The mark tugged at him, not with force but with familiarity. His palm tingled as if drawn to it. Against Mira's warning, he reached out.
The moment his hand touched the carving, fire lanced up his arm.
He gasped, staggering back as the mark blazed, searing itself into his flesh. Golden light flared through the cavern, scattering shadows. Flint fell flat on his back with a yell.
"WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT NOT TOUCHING THINGS?!"
Mira's eyes widened, not with anger, but with awe. "An Origin Brand… Kaelen, do you understand what this means? You've awakened a fragment of the ancient Code. These are not just inscriptions—they're pieces of the laws that bind reality itself."
The light carved itself into his skin, leaving a burning sigil spiraled along his forearm. It pulsed, alive, as though it were watching him. The ember within his chest answered, roaring to life, and for a moment Kaelen felt as though the world itself tilted toward him.
He clenched his fist, forcing himself to breathe. Excitement and terror tangled in his chest.
The cavern trembled. Cracks raced up the walls, dust falling like rain.
"Time to leave!" Flint barked, scrambling to his feet.
The three of them sprinted as the ruins groaned and collapsed behind them. Stone thundered down, sealing the altar once more in darkness.
They emerged into the fading light of evening, chests heaving, the cool air sharp in their lungs.
Kaelen looked down at the glowing brand etched into his arm.
Flint stared, wide-eyed.
"So you're telling me my best friend is now a walking lightning rod for ancient curses? Fantastic. Just fantastic."
Mira didn't laugh. She laid a hand on Kaelen's shoulder, her gaze steady.
"Do not treat this lightly. What you carry will draw eyes—both mortal and divine. Some will want to guide you. Others will want to break you. The Golden Road has chosen you, Kaelen."
He stared at the mark, his hand trembling slightly. The ember inside him pulsed with it, no longer silent.
For the first time since his village had burned, Kaelen felt a door had opened.
And he was no longer sure whether he was ready to walk through it.