The dead of night had deepened over Valtieri Manor, turning its corridors into passageways of shadow where only secrets dared to reveal themselves. Selene, now seventeen, walked alone through the blackened garden, her heart racing and her mind clouded. The whispers of the dead — those she had learned to hear since childhood — grew louder that night, as if announcing a dark omen.
It was there, before the fountain darkened by the night, that the pain began.
First, a sharp stab between her shoulder blades. Then, as if embers were being hurled beneath her skin, a searing sensation spread violently across her back. Selene dropped to her knees, a muffled scream escaping her lips.
"N-no..." she whispered, digging her nails into the cold earth.
The fabric of her dress tore as something began to grow beneath her skin, as though invisible hands were tearing away flesh and leaving only agony behind. A mark — dark, vivid, pulsing — began to form on her back. Its shape was chaotic and cruel, like a scar carved by the claws of a ravenous demon. Twisted lines intertwined like forgotten runes, and the skin around them seemed to rot slowly.
She cried. Cried like she had as a child, locked in her father's laboratory, where he subjected her to forbidden rituals, using her small body as an offering. Where her sobs were ignored, and pain was all that remained.
"This is... this is the price..." she murmured through sobs. "I didn't know... I didn't know it would be like this."
"SELENE!" Ayla ran to her, seeing her collapsed on the ground, trembling and soaked in cold sweat.
She knelt beside her friend, and a strangled cry escaped her lips when she saw the mark.
"By all the Gods..."
"Kill me..." Selene begged, between screams and moans. "Please... Ayla... kill me... end this!"
But Ayla, in tears, held her tightly.
"No! You're going to fight this. You're stronger than it. I'm here, Selene. I've always been here, remember? Since you were little..."
Childhood memories invaded Selene's mind. The smell of blood, her father's hands holding cold tools, words spoken in dead tongues, the stench of sulfur in the manor's hidden halls. The other children who never left the chambers alive. Herself, trembling, bruised, begging for death and receiving only indifference.
Cassios Valtieri appeared from the shadows, drawn by the screams. His robes were spotless, his gaze filled with disdain.
"At last, the Mark has awakened," he said, like someone watching a harvest bear fruit.
"Father..." Selene tried to speak, but the pain prevented it. "You knew... this would... happen..."
"He who meddles with death and demons must pay a price. You are my daughter. You were made for this. Do not cry now. Pain is your legacy."
"Monster..." Ayla spat through her tears, staring at the patriarch. "She is your daughter, and all you've ever done is destroy her."
"She is a vessel. Nothing more." He turned and vanished, like the shadow he had always been.
The pain in Selene intensified. Her body convulsed. Blood seeped from the edges of the mark, and the ground around her began to darken, as if the shadows wanted to swallow everything. The whispers of the dead now screamed. Names. Spells. Warnings. She cried, and each tear burned more than the fire of the mark.
Ayla held her, even when Selene's skin scorched to the touch.
"I won't leave you, Selene. Not even when you beg to die."
Amid the devastating pain, Selene felt a presence in the distance. It wasn't warmth, it wasn't comfort — it was just a gaze. From the manor's balcony, Dante watched.
He didn't move.
He said nothing.
He offered no help.
His eyes simply followed Selene, as if studying a wild, broken creature. She felt the weight of his gaze — and it hurt more than the mark itself.
"He sees me... and still... does nothing."
Ayla carried her inside with great effort, dragging her through the dark hallways, ignoring the servants who pretended not to see. Ignoring the whispers saying Selene was possessed. That she was an abomination. That she wouldn't survive.
She laid her on the bed, wiped her face, covered her back with enchanted leaves and tears of compassion.
"We'll heal this, even if it takes my whole life. I swear it on my soul," Ayla whispered in desperation.
Selene looked at her, her eyes red and torn.
"I'm a mistake. I'm what my father created. This thing..." she pointed weakly to her back, "it's going to kill me. And if it doesn't... it'll turn me into something I'm not."
"You are Selene Valtieri," Ayla said, holding her face. "And the whole world will kneel before who you are. Not for what they did to you — but for what you choose to become."
Selene closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. For the first time, they didn't burn.
But they still hurt.
The night passed slowly. The candles burned to their ends. And in the silence of the room, while Ayla watched over her sleep, Selene dreamed of blood, shadows, and broken promises.
The mark on her back pulsed — alive, ravenous, eternal.
And fate, at last, had begun to stir.