Home / Fantasy / THE SCAR FACE / CHAPTER 3 – THE FIRST SCAR
CHAPTER 3 – THE FIRST SCAR
Author: Ciro-Grip
last update2025-10-07 21:31:24

Smoke clung to the broken pillars of the temple like ghosts refusing to leave. Raymond stood among the fallen, the morning light cutting through drifting ash.

The five hunters lay where they’d fallen, faces pale, eyes open to the empty sky. The smell of burnt steel and blood still hung in the air.

He couldn’t stop shaking. “I didn’t mean to kill them,” he murmured. “I just… wanted to stop them.”

Master Arkon said nothing for a while. He was kneeling beside one of the corpses, examining the man’s weapon. The blade was engraved with the imperial seal, a silver serpent devouring its tail.

“The empire knows you exist now,” Arkon said finally. “They won’t stop at five.”

Raymond swallowed. “Then we run.”

“No,” Arkon said, rising to his full, lean height. “We prepare.”

The old man’s eyes glowed faintly in the gray light. “Power without control is chaos, and chaos draws hunters. If you mean to survive, you must master what you’ve unleashed.”

Raymond looked down at his hands, the faint golden veins still flickered beneath his skin. He flexed his fingers, remembering the way one touch had stopped a man’s heart.

It hadn’t felt like victory. It had felt like the end of something. “Why didn’t you warn me?” Raymond asked quietly. “That I could kill with the same energy I heal.”

Arkon’s gaze softened. “Because you wouldn’t have believed me until you felt it.”

He turned away, leaning on his cane. “Come. There’s one thing left to learn before the empire finds us.”

They carried the bodies to the edge of the forest. The air was still, heavy with dew. Arkon traced a rune in the dirt, a circle with twin spirals, and motioned for Raymond to stand within it.

“This is a cleansing rite,” Arkon said. “Every healer who takes life must restore balance. Otherwise the Flow will twist your energy, make it wild.”

Raymond hesitated. “You mean it’ll curse me?”

“Not a curse,” Arkon replied. “A scar.”

The word struck like a blade. “A scar?”

“Each time you touch death, part of it touches you back. You’ll carry it in your aura. Too many, and even the gods won’t recognize your soul.”

Raymond stared at the bodies, guilt heavy in his chest. “Then I’ll do it.”

Arkon nodded once. “Good. Now, breathe with the earth.”

Raymond knelt, pressing his palms to the damp soil. He closed his eyes. The golden light rose slowly, mixing with the faint crimson haze of dawn.

He felt the energy of the fallen, flickers of life already fading into the ground. He whispered, “Forgive me.”

The wind shifted. For an instant, he felt them, five fading sparks merging with the Flow, the circle of life and death closing.

The energy sank into him, warm and cold at once. His heart jolted. Pain lanced through his chest. “Master!”

“Endure it,” Arkon ordered. “That is the scar claiming its place.”

Raymond gritted his teeth, trembling as the pain faded into a deep ache. When he opened his eyes, a faint mark glowed over his heart, a golden spiral, dimly pulsing.

Arkon watched him in silence, then said quietly, “Now you are a healer in truth.”

They returned to the temple in silence. Raymond washed his hands in the stream behind the ruins, watching the water swirl red then clear again. His reflection looked older, tired, but sharper.

He could still hear the voice from before, whispering faintly inside him. You feel it now, don’t you? The debt of life repaid in pain…

He flinched. “Who are you?” he whispered.

The voice chuckled softly. Not who. What. Then it faded. Raymond looked up sharply, scanning the trees. Nothing but wind.

“Talking to yourself already?” Arkon’s voice came from behind him. “Good. It means the Flow is listening.”

“I heard something,” Raymond said. “A voice.”

Arkon’s expression didn’t change. “You will hear many. Some are remnants of those you’ve healed. Others… not so friendly. Learn to ignore what doesn’t guide.”

“Guide me to what?”

“To balance,” Arkon said simply. “Or madness. Depending on your strength.”

By noon, the storm clouds had cleared. The forest shimmered under sunlight, almost peaceful, until the sound of hooves broke the calm. Raymond tensed. Arkon raised a hand. “Wait.”

A rider burst from the trees, cloak fluttering black and silver. He bore no weapon, only a sealed scroll in his gloved hand. The horse stopped a few paces away, eyes wide with fear.

The rider dismounted slowly. “Master Arkon of the Forbidden Circle,” he said, voice steady. “By decree of the Imperial Council, you are summoned to answer for your crimes.”

Raymond’s blood went cold. “They found us”

Arkon’s cane struck the ground lightly. “A summons, not an attack. Curious.”

The messenger held out the scroll. “If you resist, the Empire will send the Inquisitors next. Their reach is absolute.”

Arkon smiled faintly. “Tell your masters I am retired.”

The rider hesitated. “You cannot ignore”

The cane moved faster than sight. A pulse of air rippled outward, and the scroll burst into dust between the messenger’s fingers. The horse reared, screaming. Raymond grabbed Arkon’s arm. “Master!”

Arkon’s eyes flared gold. “You think parchment binds me, boy?”

The messenger stumbled back, pale. “You’ve sealed your fate!”

“Possibly,” Arkon said. “But not today. Leave.”

The rider mounted his horse and fled without looking back. Raymond exhaled shakily. “That was reckless.”

“No,” Arkon said. “That was necessary. They know where we are now. The question is, why bother with a warning?”

He turned to Raymond, expression grim. “Pack your things. We move tonight.”

As the sun sank behind the forest, Raymond gathered what little they had, herbs, scrolls, and the few relics Arkon refused to explain.

One item caught his eye: a pendant shaped like a crystal feather, pulsing faintly blue. “Don’t touch that,” Arkon said suddenly.

Raymond froze. “What is it?”

“Trouble,” Arkon said. “A relic of the mage line. It belonged to someone I once failed to save.”

“Who?”

Arkon hesitated. “A girl named Elysia Vale.”

The name hit like a spark in Raymond’s chest, inexplicably familiar, though he’d never heard it before. “She’s alive?” he asked.

“For now,” Arkon said, voice distant. “And if the empire’s still using her name, she may be part of what’s coming.”

Raymond stared at the pendant as it shimmered faintly in his palm, unaware that far beyond the forest, a young woman with the same blue crystal around her neck had just awoken from a dream filled with gold light and a stranger’s voice whispering her name.

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