Mira did not remember how she moved. One moment, a creature was leaping at her; the next, Kael stood between them, his body tense like a drawn bow. The air around him felt different hot, heavy, filled with something wild and old. She could not see the creature clearly, only sharp claws, a flash of gray skin, and glowing red eyes that seemed to burn with hunger.
But then, just as fast as it had appeared, the creature vanished back into the shadows of the Thornwild. Kael's jaw clenched. His chest rose and fell in short, angry breaths.
"This is only the beginning," he said in a low voice.
Before Mira could ask what that meant, Kael stepped back into the woods and disappeared, leaving her alone on the cliff with questions that felt bigger than the sea below.
Mira tried to sleep that night, but her mind refused to rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw claws, teeth, gold eyes, and the way Kael said the old laws like they still mattered.
Her wrist ached. The mark beneath the leather band pulsed as if it had its own heartbeat.
By morning, she knew she couldn't stay quiet anymore. She needed answers—real ones. Mirek had mentioned carvings. Old bargains. Debts. Maybe the best place to start was where this began: the market stall.
So she walked toward the marketplace, forcing her steps to stay steady even though every person she passed seemed to stare too long. Some with fear. Some with curiosity. Some with suspicion.
Her wrist tingled like it wanted her to hurry.
When she reached the center of the market, the smell of frying fish hit her first. Then the shouting of vendors. Then the clatter of crates and wagons. Everything normal. Everything ordinary. But she felt none of it was.
She found the stall easily. It was tucked between a spice seller and a fabric merchant, just as she remembered. But today, the strange stall was quieter. Almost empty.
The vendor was an older woman with long white braids tied behind her back. Her eyes were gray and sharp, and when she looked at Mira, it felt like she saw more than she should.
"You came back," the woman said softly.
Mira's chest tightened. "You sold me something… or I touched something… and now "
"Show me your wrist," the woman interrupted.
Mira hesitated. Then she untied the leather band.
The woman inhaled sharply.
"Oh child… you should have never touched that."
Mira's skin pricked. "What is it? What does the mark mean?"
The woman did not answer immediately. Instead, she reached under her stall and brought out a long wooden box. Its surface was carved with twisting lines and markings that looked almost alive. She opened it slowly.
Inside lay the relic Mira had touched—a dark stone piece carved with a thorn-like pattern. It was dull today, but Mira remembered how it had glowed faintly when she first picked it up.
"It called to you," the woman said. "I should have hidden it better."
"Called to me? Why me?"
The woman's fingers rested lightly on the relic. "This carving belonged to the Thornwild. It was never meant for human hands."
Mira swallowed. "Then why didn't you stop me from touching it?"
The woman looked away. "I did not expect it to choose again after all these years."
Choose? The word wrapped tightly around Mira's thoughts.
Before she could ask more, a heavy voice spoke from behind her.
"What choice are you talking about?"
Mira froze. She turned slowly to see Magistrate Edran, tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing the dark blue coat of authority. He always carried a cold confidence, but today his eyes were sharper, more interested.
"I asked you a question," Edran repeated.
The vendor shot Mira a quick look, one filled with warning. "Just old stories," she said. "Nothing for the magistrate to bother with."
Edran stepped closer. "Your stories sound more dangerous than usual." His gaze dropped to Mira's wrist. "What happened to your hand?"
Mira quickly covered it. "Burn. Kitchen accident."
Edran's eyes narrowed. "I heard you fainted yesterday. People are talking." He leaned in slightly. "If something unusual happened, the town must know." His voice dipped lower. "I must know."
Mira held her ground. "It's nothing."
He studied her for another long second. It felt like he was peeling back layers looking for a truth she didn't want him to see. Mira stayed still, not breaking eye contact.
Finally, Edran stepped back. "Be careful, Mira Alvar. Strange things attract trouble."
His boots clicked as he walked away, but Mira's shoulders did not relax until he was far out of sight.
When she turned back to the vendor, the old woman was already closing her stall.
"Come with me," she whispered. "Not here."
She led Mira behind the market to a quiet alley where the smell of spices faded into damp stone walls. Here, the woman's voice dropped to a trembling whisper.
"That is not a burn on your wrist," she said. "That is a Thornmark."
Mira exhaled shakily. "I know. Kael—"
The woman's eyes widened. "You saw him?"
Mira nodded.
"Then child… you are in greater danger than you understand."
Mira's breath caught. "Tell me what's happening."
The woman looked like she wanted to refuse, but something in Mira's face convinced her.
"Years ago," she began, "the Thornwild made a pact with humans. A dangerous one. A mark would appear only on someone chosen to stand between human and beast. Someone who held the balance."
"Chosen by who?" Mira whispered.
"The Beast King," the woman said.
Mira felt the world tilt like a boat in sudden waves.
"I didn't choose anything," she insisted. "I just touched your relic."
"The relic does not bind," the woman corrected. "It reveals. The Thornmark was already waiting beneath your skin."
Mira's stomach dropped. "Waiting? Since when?"
"That I cannot answer. But the moment you touched the relic, the mark woke. And the King… woke with it."
Mira felt her pulse racing. "Why me? I'm not important. I'm not "
"You are exactly the kind of person the old laws choose," the vendor said. "Someone who tries to avoid trouble but walks toward the truth anyway. Someone with a stubborn heart."
Mira stared at the stone floor. Nothing made sense. Everything felt like it was sliding out of her hands.
"And the beast last night?" Mira asked quietly. "The creature that attacked me?"
The woman's expression darkened. "Not all Thornwild creatures follow the King. Some follow blood. Some follow the mark. And some… follow the scent of fear."
Mira's skin prickled. "Then how do I stop them?"
"You cannot stop them," the woman whispered. "But you can learn to survive them. For that, you must leave town."
Mira shook her head immediately. "I can't leave Lysa. I can't leave Mirek. My life is here."
"Your life," the woman said with sad eyes, "is no longer only yours."
Mira stepped back, her chest tightening. She did not want this. She did not ask for this. She just wanted her quiet life. Her sister. Her workshop. The steady ticking of clocks measuring ordinary hours.
But now she carried a mark that pulsed under her skin like a living thing.
The vendor suddenly stiffened. Her gaze shot past Mira's shoulder.
"Someone is watching us."
Mira spun, but she saw no one.
"Go home," the old woman urged. "And Mira hide your wrist. Don't trust anyone who asks about it."
Mira hurried away, heart pounding. Every shadow on the street felt taller. Every whisper felt like it followed her. Her hand stayed over her wrist the whole time.
When she reached the quiet stretch of the road near the cliffs, she slowed her steps. The wind whipped her hair across her face. The sea roared below. Her wrist throbbed with heat.
A sound rustled behind her.
Too soft for a person.
Too heavy for a bird.
Too close for comfort.
Mira turned slowly.
A figure stepped out from behind a stone pillar Soren, the forest ranger, tall, steady, usually calm. But today his expression was nothing like calm.
He stared at the band around her wrist with a look that scared her more than the beast had.
"Mira," he said, voice tight. "Show me your hand."
Her heart kicked against her ribs. "Why?"
"Because I saw something last night." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Something impossible."
Her pulse hammered. "Soren… don't "
"Show me the mark," he repeated.
"No," Mira whispered.
But Soren reached forward
And before she could step away, before she could hide her hand
The leather band burned through.
Smoke curled up.
The Thornmark glowed through the ash.
Soren froze.
And then he whispered the last thing Mira wanted to hear:
"Gods… they'll come for you."