The rain tapped softly against the tall glass windows of the city library, a steady rhythm that blended with the faint hum of flickering neon lights outside. Midnight had long since passed, yet one corner of the library still glowed with a faint desk lamp.
Kean sat hunched over a pile of books, his eyes bloodshot from hours of study. Most students would never willingly spend a Friday night buried in half–translated manuscripts about dead languages. But Kean was not like most students.
There had always been something in him that gravitated toward the forgotten—ruins, myths, letters no one could read anymore. It wasn't about grades, nor about a career; it was an obsession, a hunger he couldn't explain.
On the desk before him lay a cracked leather folio, its pages brittle, smelling of mold and dust. His professor had dismissed it as "worthless gibberish," a failed attempt at cipher. But Kean's fingers tingled the moment he touched it, as if the book itself called to him.
He flipped through page after page of strange symbols—lines coiled into spirals, dots arranged like constellations, patterns that seemed almost alive. Then his eyes froze.
There it was.
A mark unlike the others: a swirling spiral with jagged lines intersecting at impossible angles, forming the shape of an eye staring directly into his soul.
Kean whispered unconsciously, "What are you?"
His hand moved on its own, tracing the ink with his fingertip. The instant his skin met the paper, the mark pulsed. A cold shiver ran up his spine. The air thickened.
The spiral glowed.
"W–what the hell—?" Kean jerked back, but it was too late. The mark detached from the page like molten ink and crawled across his hand. Pain seared through his skin as the symbol burned itself into his wrist.
He gasped, stumbling to his feet, knocking over the chair. The library around him blurred; the fluorescent lights flickered violently. He could hear whispers—faint, layered voices speaking in a language he did not know, yet somehow understood.
"He who bears the forgotten sigil… will hear the whispers… He who hears shall alter fate."
The floor dissolved beneath him.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Kean fell through an endless void, the whispers growing louder, overlapping, echoing inside his skull. He tried to scream but no sound came out. His chest felt crushed, as though unseen chains bound him.
Then—light.
He slammed into hard stone. Pain shot through his side. Coughing, gasping, he rolled onto his back. Above him stretched a sky unlike any he had ever seen: a deep violet expanse where colossal stars glowed red and gold, drifting lazily like lanterns across a cosmic sea.
"…Where am I?" His voice cracked.
The air was heavy, carrying the scent of dust and ash. Around him sprawled ruins—towering pillars of black stone etched with symbols similar to the ones in the folio, except these shone faintly with silver light.
Kean sat up slowly. His body felt… different. Leaner, lighter. He looked at his hands—his skin was darker than before, his fingers longer. And there, on his left wrist, the spiral mark blazed faintly, etched into his flesh like a tattoo.
Panic surged through him. "This… this can't be real. Am I dreaming?"
Before he could gather his thoughts, a sharp voice pierced the silence.
"You there! How dare you trespass on sacred ground!"
Kean spun around.
Three figures emerged from behind the pillars—young men dressed in black robes embroidered with glowing sigils. Their eyes glowed faintly under the eerie starlight, their expressions twisted with contempt. One carried a slender staff crowned with a crystal, another wielded a short blade shimmering with blue runes, while the third's hands crackled with sparks of raw energy.
The tallest of them sneered. "No clan crest, no aura, no recognition. You're nothing but a stray… a worthless outcast."
Kean's mind raced. Clan? Crest? Aura? What the hell are they talking about?
"Wait," he stammered, raising his hands. "I—I don't even know where I—"
The boy with the blade lunged without hesitation. Blue light traced along the sword's edge as it swung toward Kean's throat.
Instinct screamed in Kean's mind. He raised his left hand as if to shield himself.
The mark on his wrist flared.
Heat surged through his body, and a voice whispered inside his skull:
"Draw the line of survival."
Kean's fingers moved before he understood, sketching a spiral in the air. A shimmering wall of translucent light erupted before him.
Clang!
The blade struck the barrier and rebounded with a violent shockwave. The attacker stumbled backward, wide–eyed.
"What—?! That's impossible!"
The other two gaped as well. "That sigil… I've never seen it before!"
Kean staggered, staring at his own trembling hand. Did… did I just do that?
But there was no time to think. The three regrouped, fury blazing in their eyes.
"Kill the stray before anyone sees!"
They charged.
"Stop!"
The command cracked through the night like thunder.
A figure strode into view from between the ruins. She was tall, clad in white garments inscribed with golden patterns that glowed softly against the violet sky. Her long silver hair flowed like liquid moonlight, her emerald eyes sharp with authority.
The three assailants froze instantly. Fear replaced their arrogance.
"L–Lady Liara," the staff–bearer stammered, bowing.
The girl—Liara—did not even glance at them. Her gaze locked onto Kean. Her eyes widened slightly when they fell upon the mark blazing on his wrist.
"…That seal," she whispered.
Kean's chest tightened. "Do you… do you know what this is?"
Liara's lips parted, as if to answer. But in that exact moment, the whispers returned to Kean's mind, louder than ever.
"She has seen what must remain unseen… Fate will twist, threads will break…"
Kean stumbled, clutching his head. The world seemed to tilt.
Liara stepped closer, her expression unreadable. "That sigil—where did you obtain it?"
"I—I don't—" His voice broke. Panic, confusion, dread—all churned together.
The whispers thundered again, drowning out everything.
"Your destiny begins now… but will it be salvation, or ruin?"
The whispers faded, leaving a dull ache pounding inside Kean's skull. He blinked rapidly, trying to steady his breath.
The girl—Liara—was still staring at him. Her emerald eyes were sharp, but there was something else in them too, a flicker of curiosity—or was it fear?
The three black–robed youths shifted nervously behind her. One finally spoke, his voice tight with suppressed anger.
"Lady Liara, this… stray dares to trespass. He should be punished. That sigil could be stolen—"
"Silence," Liara's tone was like steel wrapped in silk. She didn't even glance at them. "If you touch him again without permission, you'll answer to the Academy Council."
The boys paled. Even Kean, despite his confusion, understood: whoever this girl was, her authority was absolute.
Liara stepped closer, her footsteps echoing softly across the stone. She stopped just a breath away, her gaze fixed on the glowing mark on his wrist.
Kean instinctively pulled his arm back. "I… I don't know what's happening. I don't even know where I am."
For the first time, Liara's cold mask cracked. Her brows knit. "You don't know…?"
"I woke up here," Kean said quickly, words tumbling out. "I was in a library. Then that mark burned into me and suddenly I fell—" He gestured wildly at the alien sky. "And now I'm here! None of this makes sense."
Liara studied him in silence. The other youths exchanged glances, clearly baffled.
Finally, she spoke. "No clan, no aura, no sigil resonance… yet you wielded a barrier against a rune–blade." Her voice lowered. "And that mark… I have never seen it recorded in any archive."
Kean swallowed hard. "So… it's not normal here?"
Her gaze sharpened. "It is not just 'not normal.' It is impossible."
The word hung in the air like a sentence.
Before Kean could reply, the ground trembled. A deep rumble echoed through the ruins, dislodging dust from the towering pillars. The three robed youths immediately stiffened.
"Monsters," one whispered.
From the shadows of the broken arches, shapes emerged—hulking, twisted creatures with glowing runes carved into their skin. Their eyes burned with unnatural fire, their jaws filled with jagged teeth. Each step they took made the earth quake.
Kean staggered back, his heart hammering. "What—what are those?!"
Liara's hand swept out. Golden sigils flared around her fingers, weaving into a radiant bow of light. She pulled the string back, forming an arrow of searing energy.
"They are Wraithbound," she said coldly. "Beasts shackled by corrupted sigils. Stay behind me if you wish to live."
The three youths rushed forward, chanting. Runes lit their weapons, sparks of power crackling as they prepared to fight.
Kean's mouth went dry. He had no weapon, no training—only that burning mark on his wrist.
The first beast roared and charged. Liara loosed her arrow; it streaked like lightning, piercing the monster's skull. The creature collapsed in a heap of ash and shattered stone.
The other beasts shrieked in fury. Two lunged at the robed youths, their claws slamming against glowing barriers. Sparks flew, the air reeked of ozone.
Kean stumbled backward, his mind racing. I shouldn't be here. I don't belong here. I'm going to die…
Then the mark burned again.
"Do not run. Draw the sigil of binding."
The whisper sliced through his panic. His hand trembled, moving against his will. His finger traced shapes in the air—lines crossing, a spiral locking them together.
A chain of spectral light burst from the ground, wrapping around one beast's limbs. It shrieked, thrashing, unable to move.
Everyone froze.
The robed youths gawked. Liara's emerald eyes widened slightly.
"You bound it," she murmured.
Kean's knees buckled. He stared at the glowing chains in disbelief. "I… I didn't mean to…"
Before anyone could react, the second beast lunged directly at him. Its claws stretched toward his chest.
Kean froze. His body wouldn't move. This is it—I'm dead!
But a blur of silver intercepted the strike. Liara stood before him, her bow dissipating into raw light that solidified into a blade. She slashed, severing the monster's arm in a single motion. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling as it hit the ground.
She turned her head just slightly, her hair brushing his face, her voice calm yet edged with warning. "Don't stand still again."
Kean's heart thundered. He had no idea if it was fear, adrenaline… or something else.
The battle raged for minutes that felt like hours. Liara and the robed youths struck the beasts down one by one, though Kean's accidental binding had saved them from being overwhelmed. Finally, the last monster collapsed into ashes, leaving only silence and the acrid stench of burnt stone.
Kean fell to his knees, trembling, gasping for breath. His entire body felt drained.
Liara dismissed her blade, the golden light fading. She approached him slowly, studying him with eyes that seemed to pierce straight into his soul.
"You're not from here," she said at last. It wasn't a question.
Kean looked up, helpless. "No. I don't even know where 'here' is."
She crouched in front of him, her silver hair brushing the ground. Up close, her presence was overwhelming—not just her beauty, but the aura of command she carried.
"That sigil chose you," she whispered, almost to herself. "But why now… and why in this form?"
Kean frowned. "Form? What do you mean—?"
Before she could answer, the mark on his wrist pulsed again, brighter this time, flooding the ruins with an eerie glow. The whispers returned, louder, urgent, twisting his thoughts.
"She will see. She must not see. Hide the truth or lose the path."
Kean clutched his arm, teeth gritted. "Make it stop!"
Liara's eyes widened. "The sigil… it's resonating. No—this is dangerous!"
The ground shook violently. Cracks split the stone beneath them, light seeping through as though something beneath the ruins was awakening.
Kean's breath caught. Fear wrapped icy fingers around his throat. "What's happening now?!"
Liara grabbed his wrist, her grip firm. Her emerald eyes locked onto his. "Listen to me. Whatever you are, whatever that mark is—you cannot reveal it here. Not to anyone."
The earth roared. The fissures widened, glowing with blinding light.
And then, from the depths of the ruin, a colossal eye opened—an eye formed entirely of sigils, staring directly at Kean.
The colossal eye stared up from the fissure, its iris nothing but endless spirals of glowing runes, shifting and rearranging with every second. The air turned unbearably heavy, pressing down on Kean's chest until he struggled to breathe.
The whispers in his mind grew deafening.
"Awaken… claimant… break the seal… or be devoured."
Kean staggered back, clutching his wrist as the mark blazed with searing light. The glow spread across his veins, crawling up his arm like liquid fire. He wanted to scream, but his throat locked tight.
Liara's expression hardened. "It's reacting to you." She spun to the stunned robed youths. "Call for reinforcement! Now!"
They hesitated only a moment before one raised his staff, tracing frantic runes in the air. A beacon of blue light shot into the violet sky, bursting into a flare that could be seen for miles.
The eye pulsed.
Cracks spread outward, shattering entire pillars. From the fissure, tendrils of black smoke lashed out like whips, striking the ground with explosive force. One of the youths screamed as he was flung across the ruins, his weapon shattering.
Kean's stomach lurched. This thing… it's alive.
The smoke lashed toward him. Instinct screamed louder than thought. His hand slashed through the air, tracing a spiral he didn't consciously know.
A shield erupted—vast, dome–shaped, protecting not only himself but also Liara and the surviving youths. The smoke slammed against it, sparks of energy rippling outward.
Kean dropped to one knee, his vision blurring. The effort drained him like a bucket pouring into the ocean.
Liara knelt beside him, one hand steadying his shoulder. Her voice was sharp but urgent. "Don't lose focus. If that barrier falls, we die."
"I… I don't even know how I'm doing this!" Kean's voice cracked.
Her gaze bore into him. "Then learn. Now."
The eye below flared, and suddenly Kean felt himself being pulled—not physically, but mentally, as though his consciousness were being dragged down into that abyss of spirals.
He was falling again.
Darkness swallowed him. But this time, he wasn't alone.
In the void stood a figure cloaked in shifting shadows, its face hidden, its body etched with glowing sigils. Its voice was the same as the whispers, but deeper, clearer.
"Bearer of the Forgotten Sigil… You are chosen. You are cursed. Which path will you carve?"
Kean's fists clenched. "Chosen? Cursed? I never asked for this!"
The figure tilted its head. "No one does. Yet destiny binds tighter than chains. Accept me, and the seal will bend. Reject me, and the seal will consume."
The spiraling eye loomed behind the figure, vast and merciless. Its gaze pinned him like an insect.
Kean's chest heaved. "If I accept… what happens?"
"Power. Survival. But the price is the world's fear… and her blood."
Kean froze. "…Her?"
The shadows shifted, forming the faint outline of Liara's face, her emerald eyes dim with pain.
His heart lurched. "What do you mean?! What happens to her?!"
The voice echoed, fading like mist. "Choose, claimant. Choose."
Kean gasped, his eyes snapping open. He was back in the ruins, the barrier trembling under the assault of the tendrils. Liara's hand was still on his shoulder, her eyes fierce and unyielding despite the chaos.
He looked at her—the very girl the whispers had warned him about. For one terrifying moment, he saw her face overlayed with the shadow's vision, pale and broken.
His pulse pounded in his ears. No… I can't let that happen.
The tendrils struck again. The shield fractured.
Desperation surged. He threw his hand forward, the sigil on his wrist flaring brighter than ever. A torrent of light erupted, forming chains that shot downward, wrapping around the colossal eye. The ruins shook violently as the monster bellowed in soundless fury.
Liara stared, her lips parted in awe. "That… that power—"
The ground collapsed.
The fissure widened, dragging everything into the abyss. Kean felt the world tilt, rubble tumbling past him into the endless spiral below. The robed youths screamed, clinging to shattered pillars.
Liara grabbed his arm. "Hold on!"
But the pull was too strong.
Stone crumbled beneath his feet, and Kean felt himself falling—this time, with Liara's hand still gripping his wrist.
The last thing he saw was her emerald eyes locking with his, filled with determination, just before both of them plunged into the spiraling abyss.