The village of Ashwood was a place of quiet cruelty. By day, its cobblestone streets bustled with merchants hawking wares and children darting between wagons. By night, the lantern-lit square became a sanctuary for whispered judgments. At the farthest edge of the kingdom, where even the King's laws felt like myths, fate ruled above all else—etched into the glowing runes on every citizen's skin.
But not hers.
Seraphina, the only unmarked soul in Ashwood, pulled her patched cloak tighter around her as she crossed the square. The air smelled of baking bread and fresh-cut pine, but the warmth of the scene was lost on her. Eyes followed her every step. Not openly—oh, no, the people of Ashwood preferred their disdain whispered, sharp-edged and cutting.
"She's cursed," a woman murmured to her husband as Seraphina passed.
"No," he replied, lowering his voice. "She's worse. She's nothing."
Seraphina's jaw tightened, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Her boots scuffed against the stone path as she passed the baker's shop, its windows glowing with firelight. Inside, the baker's daughter—round-faced and radiant—flashed her a smug smile. A golden rune spiraled up the girl's arm like a winding flame.
Seraphina glanced at her own arms, pale and bare. The absence of runes marked her as an outsider, a freak. In a kingdom where runes dictated your path—your talents, your destiny—being blank meant you were no one.
The sharp clip-clop of hooves shattered the quiet.
Heads turned as a towering figure entered the square. He rode a massive black steed, its coat shimmering like polished onyx. The man was clad in dark leather armor, and the silver runes that spiraled up his arms glowed faintly, pulsing with each beat of his heart.
Kael Ashryn, the infamous Rune Knight.
Seraphina froze. She had heard stories of him—everyone had. A warrior with more blood on his hands than years in his life. They said his runes burned brighter than any other's, marking him as both a hero and a curse.
Kael dismounted, his movements smooth and deliberate. He stood taller than most men, his broad shoulders casting a shadow that seemed larger than life. His hair, black as the night sky, fell loosely to his jawline, framing a face carved from stone. His eyes, cold and piercing, swept the crowd with disinterest.
"Who summoned me?" Kael's voice was deep and resonant, cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
The village elder stepped forward, wringing his hands. "M-my lord, we—there's been trouble in the Blackthorn Forest. Raiders, or worse. We've lost three hunters already this week."
Kael's gaze swept the crowd again, his expression unreadable. "And what does that have to do with me?"
The elder stammered. "Y-you're the Rune Knight, my lord. We thought—"
"You thought wrong."
The elder recoiled as if struck, but Kael's gaze had already moved past him. It landed on Seraphina, lingering for a moment longer than was comfortable.
"You," Kael said, his voice soft but commanding.
The crowd parted as all eyes turned to her. Seraphina's heart thudded painfully in her chest, but she forced herself to meet his gaze.
"Yes?" she replied, her voice steady despite the heat rising in her cheeks.
"You're the one they call the blank?"
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak. "And you're the knight they call a monster. I suppose that makes us even."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Kael's lips twitched—whether in amusement or irritation, she couldn't tell.
"I've seen many things in my time," he said, taking a step closer. "Runes that twist like fire. Runes that speak of death. But I've never seen a blank."
"Then consider yourself lucky," Seraphina said, lifting her chin. "You've finally found something you can't kill."
The crowd gasped, but Kael only stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the air heavy with unspoken tension.
Then, without a word, Kael turned and strode back to his horse.
"I'll deal with your raiders," he said to the elder. "But the blank comes with me."
The square erupted into chaos. Voices overlapped, some shouting in protest, others whispering in awe.
"What do you mean, my lord?" the elder asked, his voice trembling.
Kael swung into the saddle, his runes glowing faintly in the dim light. "If the raiders are using magic, I'll need her. She's an anomaly—and anomalies have uses."
Seraphina opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Kael fixed her with a glare that froze the words in her throat.
"You have two choices," he said coldly. "Stay here and rot. Or come with me and find out why fate decided to leave you blank."