Episode 9 – The Mark Beneath the Skin
The smoke still curled in the air, thick with the scent of burnt flesh and demonic rot. Lana leaned against the cold wall of the corridor, her hands pressed to her sides. Kael's breathing was ragged beside her, his knuckles bloodied from the fight, his eyes still glowing faintly.
"You good?" Lana asked, voice low.
Kael nodded. "Define 'good.'"
Tunde stumbled in behind them, dragging Felix by the collar like a half-dead sack of flour. "I found the hero," he announced, dropping Felix with a dramatic sigh. "He fainted again."
Felix groaned. "It was strategic unconsciousness."
Kael let out a dry laugh. "We need to move. That wasn't a random attack."
"Nope," Lana said, brushing ash from her shirt. "That thing was summoned. And it wasn't just any demon."
She held out a piece of its remains—a blackened horn, still pulsing with a faint red light.
"Looks like a burnt yam," Tunde muttered. "Smells like one too."
Felix sat up. "That's not just any demon horn. That's from the Pit-class tier."
Kael blinked. "What now?"
"There are different classes of demons," Felix explained, rubbing his temples. "Pit-class ones are summoned through blood rituals… the deep ones, from the lower layers of the Pit of Hell. These things don't show up unless something really bad is happening."
Kael looked around. "And Shadowbound High just happens to be Ground Zero."
"Yeah," Lana said grimly. "We're sitting on top of something ancient. Something's waking up beneath the school."
---
THE SCAR AND THE SCRATCH
Later that night, they regrouped in the dorms. The halls were quiet—too quiet. Even the walls felt like they were listening.
Kael sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his arm.
There was a new mark there—a thin silver scar that hadn't been there before. He touched it, and a shock of heat ran up his spine. It wasn't just a wound.
It was a mark.
Felix peered over his shoulder. "That's not from the fight. That's... something else."
Kael clenched his fist. "I felt it the moment the demon grabbed me. Like something entered me."
Tunde leaned in. "Okay, hold on. Possession? Because I watch Nollywood and I'm not ready to see your head spin or start crawling on ceilings."
"No," Lana said, her voice sharp. "It's not possession. It's a brand. A claim."
Kael looked at her. "Claimed by who?"
"I don't know," she replied. "But it's old magic. I've seen it in the forbidden books. That mark... it links you to something from the Pit."
Kael stood abruptly. "So what? I'm marked now? Cursed? Tagged like a grocery item?"
"Basically," Felix muttered. "But… not just cursed. That kind of mark means you're being watched."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "By what?"
Before anyone could answer, the lights flickered—once, twice—then went dark. A chill wind swept through the dorm like a whisper. The shadows stretched unnaturally long.
Tunde shrieked. "Nope. Nope. NOPE. I don't do ghost lighting. Somebody call NEPA!"
A voice echoed from the window. A low growl, wrapped in something ancient:
"The marked one... has awakened."
Everyone spun around. But there was nothing there. Just the darkness.
Until Kael's mark began to glow.
---
THE SUMMONING CIRCLE
Felix flipped his notebook open, scribbling furiously. "We need to bind that mark. Fast."
"There's a way to do that?" Lana asked.
"Yeah. Sort of. I mean, maybe. I read about it once and the page was half-eaten by a hellhound. But if we draw a circle and use bloodroot, obsidian powder, and…"
He trailed off. "And we're in trouble. We don't have those things."
Kael stared at the floor. "Then where do we get them?"
Felix hesitated. "The Forbidden Wing."
Tunde groaned. "The place that eats students. Lovely."
"We'll go in the morning," Kael said. "Before whatever that voice was decides to pay rent in my brain."
---
SOMETHING STIRS
That night, Kael couldn't sleep. The mark on his arm pulsed like a second heartbeat. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw things. A vortex of blood. Chains wrapped in flames. Eyes—hundreds of them—blinking from the dark.
He stumbled to the window, gasping for air.
Outside, the moon was red. Not metaphorically. Not with a poet's flair.
Blood red.
And standing on the lawn below the dorm, staring straight up at him—
Was a pack of wolves.
Not normal wolves.
Werewolves.
The one in the center stepped forward. Massive. Black fur, silver scars across its face.
It looked directly into Kael's eyes. And nodded.
Kael's blood froze.
He clutched the windowsill.
"What the hell is happening to me…"