Something that did not belong to me.
A creeping frost coiled around my bones, spreading through my veins and wrapping around my ribs like iron vines.
Shadows—thin, spectral, alive—slipped beneath my skin, twisting through me like living whispers of darkness.
My body recoiled in instinctual terror.
This was not healing.
This was not protection.
This was something else entirely.
Panic clawed at my chest.I thrashed weakly, my limbs useless against his unshakable grip.
“No—stop!”My voice was a raw whisper, barely escaping my throat.
My eyelids fluttered, yet my mind screamed against the horror unraveling before me.
Then I saw it.
The gash across his chest—seeping, bleeding.
And his forefinger, drenched in his blood, dragging those cursed symbols across my flesh.
He was using his blood.
To inscribe me.
A fresh wave of revulsion surged through me.
I tried to sit up, tried to shove him away, but my body betrayed me.
I could only watch as warm, wet crimson landed on my forearm, tracing lines I did not understand or want to understand.
The sight sent a raw terror flooding my system.
I wrenched my arm free, my breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.
Rune-like symbols sprawled across my skin—etched in blood.
Then—
A pinch.
A sting bloomed against my wrist.
A needle.
He was taking my blood.
“Stop!”My voice broke into something close to a sob as I thrashed beneath his hold.“Why are you taking my blood?What evil symbols are you inscribing on me?”
He did not flinch.
His voice was a low hum, unwavering.
“Easy, child.The symbols are not evil.They hold the key to your future.”
