Three days later.
Outer City Ruins – Hidden Shelter.
The days following the skirmish blurred into haze and pain.
Kairos sat with his back against a cracked pillar, eyes closed, the strange runes still glowing faintly on his skin. The others rested within the shelter, unaware of the turmoil rising behind his eyelids.
His mother's voice echoed from within, humming a lullaby she hadn't sung since he was a boy. But the comfort it once offered no longer reached the part of him that had changed.
That night, the fever began.
Visions came—of fire, of shadows wearing human faces, of a throne made of swords and bones. In the dream, he stood before it, and Selene was beside him… but her eyes were golden, her hand cloaked in darkness.
He awoke gasping, his blade in hand, the sigil on his chest pulsing like a second heartbeat.
---
At dawn.
He stepped outside. The sun struggled to rise above the ashen skyline.
There, waiting for him in the mist, was a figure. Hooded. Cloaked in tattered cloths that fluttered in windless air.
"You bear the mark," the figure rasped. "And yet you are not bound."
Kairos didn't lower his blade. "Who are you?"
"A Watcher. One who knew the fire before it fell. One who saw the gate open from the inside."
The figure stepped closer, revealing eyes that shimmered like molten gold. "You are not the first Harbinger. But you might be the last."
Kairos frowned. "I didn't ask for this."
"No Harbinger ever did. But each of them… chose."
And from the shadows, the Watcher produced a scroll—sealed with a symbol identical to the one on Kairos' chest.
"A pact. Not made with demons. Not made with gods. Made with something older. Sign it, and you will awaken. Deny it, and you will still burn. The question is, will your flame consume or illuminate?"
Kairos stared at the parchment, heart thudding. He thought of his family. Of Selene. Of the academy. Of the man in the Chronicle.
He reached out.
And signed.
The moment the ink touched the scroll, the world around him split.
Light. Sound. Heat. A surge of energy tore through him, flinging him backward. He screamed, not from pain—but from change.
His veins burned. His eyes lit red. His blade levitated, glyphs swirling along its surface. The runes on his skin flared and bled into each other, forming a single word that had no translation in any human tongue.
Then silence.
When Kairos rose, his presence bent the air.
The Watcher bowed.
"It is done."
---
That evening – Back at the Shelter.
His sister hugged him tighter than before. His mother wept softly.
But they could feel it.
He wasn't the same.
And in the far east, deep within the underground sanctum of the Academy, Selene stood before a sealed mirror. Her eyes glowed faintly.
She, too, had made a choice.
But her pact was yet to be tested.
The game had begun.