Chapter 12: The Whisper of the Grave
Rain fell over what remained of Blackthorn City. The flames had finally died out, leaving behind a wasteland of steam, rubble, and silence. The scent of ash still lingered, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.
Kael walked through the ruins, his cloak torn, his eyes dark with exhaustion. His wings had faded — hidden away once more. Every step echoed softly against the broken streets, each one heavier than the last.
Lucien's words wouldn't leave his head.
> "Your mother wasn't just human."
It played over and over again, poisoning his thoughts. He wanted to scream. To deny it. But something inside him — something deep, ancient, and dark — knew Lucien wasn't lying.
Kael reached the edge of the city, where the forest began. The trees whispered as the wind blew through them, their branches heavy with rain. Somewhere beyond them was his home — or what was left of it.
He stopped. The shrine.
That cursed shrine where everything began.
His scythe pulsed faintly at his back, as though sensing his resolve. The red glow of its core flickered like a heartbeat. He took a deep breath and stepped into the woods.
The forest was quiet. Too quiet. The rain softened into mist as he walked deeper, past the gnarled roots and twisted trunks. The ground here was still stained with faint traces of blood — his blood — from the day the devil's mark chose him.
When he reached the shrine, he froze.
It wasn't how he remembered it. The once-small altar of stone had changed — grown taller, darker. Symbols he'd never seen before glowed faintly across its surface, like veins of burning coal.
Kael stepped closer, the whispers growing louder in his mind. He could almost hear voices — dozens of them, calling his name, begging, laughing.
> "Kael… Kael Riven… do you remember your true blood?"
He clenched his fists. "Shut up!"
The wind howled in response, carrying the smell of sulfur. The symbols flared brighter. And then — a shadow began to rise from the stone.
At first, it looked human. But as it took form, Kael saw wings made of smoke, and a face hidden behind a mask of shifting light.
"Who are you?" Kael demanded.
The shadow tilted its head. "Your mother's sin."
Kael's breath caught. "What… what are you talking about?"
"She made a deal," the shadow said, its voice echoing like a chorus of whispers. "Long before you were born. To save you, she offered something the devil desired — her soul… and her bloodline."
Kael stumbled back. "That's not true… my mother—"
"She carried the mark before you did," the voice interrupted. "She hid it from the world, from the Church, from the angels themselves. But the curse never leaves the blood. It only waits… for the next to awaken."
The air turned thick, heavy with heat. Kael's vision swam as the mark on his neck began to glow. Images flooded his mind — his mother praying by candlelight, whispering names he didn't recognize; a seal burning on her hand; the night she cried as she watched him sleep.
"She tried to protect you," the shadow murmured. "But fate doesn't forgive bargains."
Kael fell to his knees, gripping his head. The voices grew louder.
> "You are not her son… you are her legacy."
The shrine pulsed once more, and then the shadow was gone — leaving only silence and the faint red glow of the mark on Kael's skin.
He stayed there for a long time, kneeling before the shrine as the rain washed over him. His thoughts were chaos. His heart — torn between grief and fury.
Then, something caught his eye.
Half-buried beneath the altar, a small locket shimmered faintly in the dim light. He picked it up and opened it. Inside was a faded picture — his mother, smiling, holding him as a baby. And behind it, scratched faintly into the metal, were words written in a language he didn't understand.
But beneath that, in small, trembling letters, a message was carved in human handwriting:
> "Forgive me, my son. The angel will come for you soon."
Kael stared at the words. The angel.
Lucien had said he was half divine.
Which meant the other side of his blood… wasn't just demonic.
Something far older — and far more dangerous — was inside him.
Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the forest. Kael rose slowly to his feet, his expression unreadable. The red glow in his eyes deepened.
"I'll find the truth," he whispered, his voice low. "And if the angels want me… they can come."
Behind him, the shrine flared one last time — and a faint, golden feather drifted down through the rain, landing silently at his feet.
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TO BE CONTINUED