The world of Eldra believed in balance.
Every birth was weighed.
Every death was counted.
Every soul had a place.
Alaric Vane was the first mistake in three centuries.
He stood at the edge of the Blackwood cliffs, the wind pulling at his cloak as if trying to drag him forward. Below, the forest stretched endlessly—dark, ancient, and alive in a way that made even seasoned hunters uneasy.
Alaric had lived in Eldra for nineteen years, yet the land never truly accepted him.
The priests said nothing was wrong.
The scholars found no flaw.
But the spirits… the spirits always went silent around him.
He felt it again now—that pressure in his chest. Not pain. Not fear. A pull. As if something invisible was gently but persistently tugging at his very core.
"Not now," Alaric muttered, gripping the edge of the cliff.
The mark beneath his ribs burned faintly, hidden beneath skin and muscle. He had never shown it to anyone. Not to the village healer. Not even to Rowen Hale, the only friend reckless enough to ask questions.
Marks were common in Eldra.
Marks meant blessings.
This one felt like a debt.
A horn echoed from afar—deep, distorted, wrong. Birds exploded out of the forest canopy, fleeing in chaotic swarms.
Rowen's voice came rushing up the path behind him. "Alaric! You heard that too, right?"
Alaric nodded slowly. His eyes stayed fixed on the forest.
"That wasn't a beast," he said. "Beasts breathe."
Another sound followed—closer this time. The ground trembled, just slightly, like the world itself had hesitated.
Rowen swallowed. "Then what was it?"
Alaric didn't answer.
Because deep inside, something answered for him.
Not in words.
In recognition.
The mark flared once—sharp enough to steal his breath. Images flashed behind his eyes: shattered gates, nameless figures kneeling, chains made of light snapping one by one.
And beneath it all… a feeling.
Not danger.
Ownership.
Alaric staggered back, clutching his chest. Rowen reached for him, but stopped short—as if an unseen wall had risen between them.
The wind died.
The forest went silent.
Far beyond mortal sight, something ancient turned its gaze toward Eldra—and paused.
"A soul that doesn't belong," it murmured.
"And yet… one that can be exchanged."
Alaric straightened slowly, breath steadying. The pain faded, leaving behind a cold clarity.
Whatever had just noticed him—
This was only the beginning.
And Eldra's balance had already started to crack.