Kael's heart raced in his chest as he stared up at the eight dark-robed figures surrounding him. The air was thick with tension, their chanting growing louder, more menacing. He swallowed hard, trying to control the panic rising within him.
"I... I don't want any trouble!" Kael stammered, his voice cracking. His mind scrambled for a way out, a way to talk himself free. "I didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave, I swear!"
The eighth mage, the one who had knocked him down, sneered, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Leave?" the mage's gruff voice cut through the night. "You've seen too much, boy. You think we'll just let you walk away?" His tone was as rough as gravel, dark and full of threat.
Kael tried to rise, but before he could make a move, the mage raised a hand and barked a single command: "Kneel!"
Instantly, Kael's legs buckled under him, slamming to the ground with a force that made him cry out. His knees hit the dirt and twigs beneath him so hard that sharp pains shot up his legs. He gasped in pain, his hands instinctively moving to brace himself, but he couldn't stand. His body refused to listen, every muscle locked into submission.
The mage laughed, a low, rumbling sound filled with malice. "Pathetic. You stumble into something far beyond your comprehension, and now you want to run? You should've stayed hidden."
Kael clenched his fists, his nails digging into the dirt as he forced himself to look up. Fury and shame warred inside him, but all he could see was the mage's smug grin as the others continued their eerie chant behind him. The red glow from their hands pulsed like the beat of a twisted heart, casting an otherworldly light over the bloody ritual circle.
"I didn't come here on purpose!" Kael managed through gritted teeth. "Let me go, and I won't tell anyone. I swear!"
The eighth mage tilted his head, regarding him with a look of mock pity. "You've already seen more than enough. And now, well... you've made things complicated."
Kael's mind raced, trying to find something, anything that would get him out of this situation. His thoughts jumped from one frantic idea to the next, but nothing seemed useful. His heart pounded with fear. He could feel the power in the air, something far beyond his understanding, and it terrified him.
"We're here for a bloodline ritual, child," the mage continued, his tone casual, as if discussing something trivial. "A simple ceremony to find someone with a particular bloodline... Someone mentioned in an ancient prophecy." He gave a knowing smirk. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Kael froze, the words washing over him like ice. A prophecy? Bloodline? None of it made sense, but his instincts screamed at him that something terrible was unfolding before his eyes.
"Please..." Kael's voice trembled as he looked around, desperate. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not anyone important! Just... let me go."
The mage's laugh echoed through the forest, dark and twisted. "Begging, are we? You should have stayed in your village, boy. Curiosity always leads to a price."
Kael could barely process what was happening. His knees throbbed from the force of his fall, and the oppressive weight of the mages' presence suffocated him. His body was pinned to the ground, as though invisible chains held him in place. But despite the terror gnawing at his insides, anger bubbled up alongside it. He felt helpless, weak, just like he had earlier that day.
"Is he the one?" a voice suddenly whispered from behind the eighth mage. One of the other robed figures stepped closer, glancing down at Kael with a look of intrigue. The chanting had stopped.
The eighth mage frowned and turned to look at Kael once more. His lips twitched, and for a moment, a shadow of a smile crossed his face. "Seems like you aren't just a curious rat," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Seems like the heavens themselves wanted us to find you."
Kael blinked in confusion, his mind racing to grasp what the mage meant. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a thin strand of red, glowing faintly in the dark. It was barely visible, like an illusion shimmering in the night, but it stretched from the star-shaped ritual directly to his forehead, as if tethering him to the ritual circle.
His breath caught in his throat as his gaze followed the line. It seemed to pulse with the same rhythm as the glow from the mages' hands. His heart pounded harder, fear crawling up his spine.
The eighth mage turned his head toward the others, who now gathered closer, their chanting long since silenced. They whispered hurriedly among themselves, their voices carrying an urgency that hadn't been there before. One of the figures stepped forward, leaning into the eighth mage's ear to mutter something. Kael caught a fragment of their words, but it was enough to chill his blood.
"He's the one... mentioned in the prophecy."
Kael's mind reeled. He had no idea what they were talking about, no understanding of what it all meant, but the way they looked at him now—with a mix of reverence and cold calculation—sent ice through his veins.