The chill of dawn yet clung to Elderwood Village as Kai went about his usual morning routine, melting into the shadows of narrow, winding paths between cottages. Kai went as stealthily as possible, trying not to catch the eye of the early risers; a number of villagers stood near the well, eyeing him warily as he approached them.

The faint, silvery mark running from the corner of his left eye down his cheek to disappear beneath his collar was hard to ignore. It had always made him different. The other kids had pulled on his clothes and jeered when he was small, variously calling him cursed or "the marked one." Older, they merely avoided him. Now seventeen, he had grown accustomed to the whispers, the loneliness over him like a wet fog he couldn't shake.

He refilled his water jug, nodding politely at a young woman standing near him who quickly looked away. Kai tried not to let it sting. His mother always said the scar made him special, that it was a mark of protection. But once she was gone, the only thing it protected him from was companionship.

Kai had no family left, only the memory of the warm, calloused hands of his mother and stories she had told. She spoke of mythological beasts, creatures that could share a bond with humans, and for which she would always encourage him to look beyond their village to seek out something greater. Still, since her death, he'd kept close to Elderwood, as if tied to the life she'd left behind.

He approached the edge of the village, where his small, worn-out cottage was concealed under the drooping branches of a big elder tree. It was an extremely modest abode: the door was awry and the thatched roof leaked every time the rain became too strong, but it was home. He had built it himself, over the years, gathering materials bit by bit. It was an honor given to him by the elders, but he knew too well that was because they wanted him out of their sight.

As he neared the hut, Kai had that feeling of eyes upon him. It wasn't new; villagers often stared at him, whispering to each other as he passed. Yet this felt different-a weight beyond human eyes. He stopped and looked around, but it was only trees and mist. He shook his head and dismissed it for nerves, stepping inside.

The hut was sparsely furnished, having a narrow cot, a small table, and a few shelves high with herbs, dried meats, and pieces of trinkets he had found over time. On the table was a hewed dagger whose blade was furbished to a shine. He had been practicing with it, using the tree trunks surrounding his home as makeshift targets should anyone ever have to.

He peered into a small, cracked mirror. The scar glimmered faintly, almost as if it held some light of its own. He circled it absently with his finger, a habit when he was considering, as often, its origin. His mother had never spoken about it. The villagers had wild theories, everything from curses to an ancient mark of the old gods; of these, he imagined none was correct.

A soft rustling outside his window broke his thoughts. He froze, listening; his hand was instinctively going to the dagger. It was probably a fox or some stray cat, he said to himself, though his heartbeat quickened somewhat. Kai took a deep, steeling breath and stepped out to investigate.

A mist clung to the ground, swirling around his feet as he peered into the trees. Nothing was there-just the quiet hum of the forest and the odd call of some bird from somewhere in the distance. But while he stood there, he felt it again-the strange, heavy sensation as if the very air was weighing him down.

He shivered, but not from the cold. Today, the forest felt different, carried on an energy he could not quite explain. Always in tune with the trees, the earth, and the wind, this felt deeper. It whispered to him-almost-some unsaid invitation.

He pushed the feeling aside, returning to his hut to dismiss it as an overactive imagination. He laid down on the cot, staring up at the beams above, willing his head to empty. Sleep didn't come so easily, though. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had moved, that the forest itself watched and waited.