Morning came, but the fear did not leave.
News spread faster than fire.
By noon, messengers from nearby towns arrived with the same story—
the sky cracked, shadows appeared, and strange energy was felt across the land.
"It's happening everywhere," one messenger said. "And they all mention… you."
Ethan felt a cold weight in his chest.
"They know my name?" he asked quietly.
The messenger nodded. "They call you the Breaker of Fate."
Lyria grabbed Ethan's hand. "This isn't safe anymore."
Ethan knew she was right.
Wherever he went, trouble followed.
They decided to leave the village before sunset.
On the road, people stared at Ethan—some with fear, some with hope. A few bowed their heads.
He didn't feel like a hero.
He felt hunted.
That night, they rested near an old stone bridge. As the fire burned low, Ethan spoke softly.
"I never wanted this."
Lyria looked at him. "But you didn't choose power. You chose people."
The Fate Mark pulsed gently, not hurting—guiding.
Suddenly, the air shifted again.
A group appeared from the shadows—warriors wearing broken armor and strange symbols.
One stepped forward. "We've been searching for you, Ethan."
"Who are you?" Ethan asked.
The man smiled.
"We are from a world that lost its fate," he said.
"And you are the reason."