Morvane's pulse quickened as he leaned against the window, his gaze locked on the figure in the garden. "Hiraya!" he called out, his voice trembling with disbelief.
The woman didn't respond. She continued gathering flowers, her movements fluid and detached, as if she were in her own world.
"Hiraya!" he called again, louder this time, desperation creeping into his tone. He banged his fist lightly against the glass, willing her to hear him. Still, she gave no reaction.
Then, as if sensing his presence, she froze. Slowly, her head turned, and their eyes met.
Morvane's breath caught in his throat. Her gaze bore into him, filled with a haunting mixture of sorrow and something darker. "Why?" she asked, her voice a whisper that seemed to echo directly in his mind.
His heart sank as crimson tears began to stream from her eyes, staining her pale cheeks. "Hiraya…" he murmured, his voice shaking.
Fear surged through him. He stumbled backward, his legs giving way as he fell to the ground. The impact jarred him, but he barely noticed. His eyes darted back to the window, but the garden was empty now. She was gone.
Morvane's chest heaved as he struggled to make sense of what he'd just seen. He turned his head—and froze.
Hiraya was standing right in front of him.
Her presence was overwhelming, and yet she seemed faintly translucent, like a specter caught between worlds. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but her voice carried a weight that felt crushing. "Find your power yourself," she said, her tone both commanding and sorrowful.
Before Morvane could respond, before he could even think, she vanished like smoke dissipating in the air.
He sat there, trembling, his mind spinning with questions. What had he just seen? Was it real? Or was it all in his head?
The words she spoke lingered in his mind, heavy and cryptic: "Find your power yourself."
Morvane sat on the floor, his breathing uneven, his mind racing to process what he had just seen. The door creaked open, and the guard who had been tasked to bring him food stepped in, carrying a tray.
The guard froze upon seeing Morvane's disheveled state. "Sir, are you all right? What happened?"
Morvane didn't answer the question. His hands were trembling as he looked up. "Can you… can you call His Majesty Medas? Please."
The guard hesitated but nodded, setting the tray down before quickly leaving the room.
Moments later, Medas strode in, his bandages still visible beneath his loose robes. He looked at Morvane, his sharp gaze narrowing. "What is it? What do you need?"
Morvane struggled to his feet, his legs still shaky. "I saw her… Hiraya. She was outside, in the garden, picking flowers. But she—she cried blood, and then—then she was here, in front of me! She said something strange. 'Find your power yourself.' And then she was gone."
Medas' expression darkened, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something more urgent. "Hiraya… You're sure it was her?"
"Yes," Morvane insisted. "It wasn't a dream. I wasn't imagining it."
As he spoke, Medas' eyes flicked to Morvane's chest, where a faint glint caught his attention. "What's that?" he asked sharply, stepping closer.
Morvane frowned in confusion but followed Medas' gaze. Realizing what he meant, he reached under his shirt and pulled out the necklace—the same one he had found in the shrine.
But something was wrong. The pendant, which had once been whole, was now cracked, with small fractures running across its surface.
Medas' eyes widened in shock. He reached out but hesitated to touch it. "This… this shouldn't be possible," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "The pendant… it's broken."
Morvane's confusion deepened. "What does that mean? What's happening to me?"
Medas stepped back, his jaw tight as if he were holding back his thoughts. "This changes everything," he muttered under his breath, before looking directly at Morvane.
"We need to talk. But first…" He glanced at the door. "Guards! Make sure no one disturbs us."
The tension in the room thickened as Medas turned back to Morvane, his expression unreadable but laced with urgency.
The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of the curtains as a soft breeze entered through the window. Medas stood near the center, his posture tense, his face stern. Morvane sat on the edge of the bed, still clutching the cracked pendant, his heart racing with uncertainty.
When Medas finally spoke, his voice was heavy with gravity. "I didn't mean to tell you everything. Not yet. I wanted to wait until you were ready—until you could handle it. But after what just happened, I have no choice."
Morvane's throat felt dry, his mind spinning. He could feel the weight of Medas' words before they even landed.
Medas locked eyes with him, his tone unwavering. "You, Morvane… you have a power. Being markless doesn't mean you're powerless. It never did."
Morvane blinked, stunned. "What are you saying? That doesn't make sense. No one without a mark has ever—"
"Morvane," Medas interrupted, stepping closer. "The powers granted by the heavens, the marks… they come from the gods. They bless us, guide us, and bestow us with their gifts." He paused, his expression hardening. "But you're different. You're one of the rare ones—someone who was given power… not from the heavens, but from demons."
The words hit Morvane like a blow to the chest. He stared at Medas, disbelief etched across his face. "What? That's—what are you talking about? That can't be true!"
Medas didn't flinch. "It is true. The signs have been there all along. The shadowy wolf, the energy blast, the visions of Hiraya… and now this." He gestured to the cracked pendant. "This necklace—it isn't just an artifact. It's a conduit. It's tied to your power. And it's breaking because the power inside you is waking up, tearing through its confines."
Morvane shook his head, his voice trembling. "No. You're wrong. I'm not… I'm not some demon's chosen one. I don't want this!"
"You didn't choose this, Morvane," Medas said firmly. "But it chose you. And now you have to decide what to do with it."
The room seemed to grow colder as Morvane processed Medas' words, the weight of his revelation pressing down on him.
Medas sighed heavily, pacing the room for a moment before turning back to Morvane. His expression softened, though the seriousness in his voice remained. "You're not the first to face this, Morvane. Hiraya… she was like you. She was markless too. The world ostracized her for it, treated her like she was nothing."
Morvane's heart clenched at the mention of Hiraya. "Hiraya?"
Medas nodded. "Yes. But when she discovered her power—when she realized it came from demons—she embraced it.
Because for the first time, she had something no one could take from her. She could see ghosts and spirits, things that others couldn't even comprehend. To her, that power wasn't a curse—it was freedom."
Morvane listened, his mind swirling with confusion and disbelief. "But… if her power came from demons, doesn't that make it… evil?"
Medas held up a hand, shaking his head. "No, Morvane. Power itself isn't inherently good or evil. It's the person who wields it who defines its purpose. Just because it didn't come from heaven doesn't mean it's wicked. Hiraya understood that. And so must you."
He stepped closer, his gaze firm but reassuring. "Yes, the power you carry is a curse in many ways. But within that curse lies strength—strength that could save lives, or destroy them, depending on how you use it."
Morvane looked down at the cracked pendant in his hands, his thoughts a whirlwind. "I don't know if I can do this," he whispered.
Medas placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to know right now. But you must understand this: the power is already part of you. Whether you accept it or not, it's there. And it will grow."
The words hung heavy in the air as Morvane wrestled with the truth, the image of Hiraya crying blood flashing in his mind.
Morvane clenched the pendant in his hand, his voice unsteady as he asked, "If Hiraya had power… then why did she die? If she embraced it like you said, why couldn't it save her?"
Medas hesitated, his gaze drifting for a moment, as if recalling a memory he'd rather forget. "Everyone thought it was self-harm," he began, his tone somber. "That's what we told ourselves back then. She was found hanging, alone in her room. No note, no explanation—just silence."
Morvane's brows furrowed. "But you don't believe that?"
Medas shook his head, his expression darkening. "No, I never did. Hiraya was many things—strong, determined, unyielding. She had embraced her power despite the world rejecting her. But there was something about her death that didn't add up. The way it happened… it felt wrong. It was never solidified as self-harm, yet the people accepted it because it was easier to believe. Easier to let her memory fade."
He paused, his voice lowering. "And I, as her friend, felt powerless to stop it. I couldn't protect her. That's why… when I saw you at the Awakening Ceremony, markless like she was, I couldn't just stand by. You reminded me of her, and I swore I wouldn't let history repeat itself."
Morvane sat in silence, the weight of Medas' words pressing down on him. He didn't know what to feel—anger, sadness, fear—but one thing was clear: there was far more to this curse than he had ever imagined.
He lifted his gaze, his voice steady but determined. "Tell me more, Medas. Tell me everything you know about this curse."
Medas looked at him, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. But then he nodded, as if deciding that Morvane was ready for the truth.