Chapter 2: The Mark of the Eclipse

Zeryn couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. The village was still asleep when she returned home, and the heavy quiet of the night seemed unnatural now. Even the wind had ceased its whispering. Only the pounding of her own heartbeat filled the silence.

She slipped through the back door of her cottage, careful not to wake her aunt. The soft glow of a single lantern flickered in the corner of the small, cluttered kitchen. The air smelled faintly of dried herbs and old wood.

“Zeryn?”

Her aunt’s voice startled her. She turned quickly, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of the knife she kept tucked into her belt. It was a reflex, something she had done a thousand times when feeling cornered.

Her aunt stood in the doorway, wrapped in a woolen shawl, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders. Despite the woman’s age, there was a sharpness in her eyes, a sharpness Zeryn had always sensed but never fully understood.

“Were you out again?” Her aunt’s voice was soft, but there was an underlying edge to it. “You know it’s dangerous to wander when the sun goes down.”

Zeryn bit her lip, avoiding her aunt’s gaze. “I needed to pick up herbs from the healer. Nothing to worry about.”

Her aunt didn’t seem convinced. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “I heard you. Talking to someone.”

Zeryn froze. Her aunt was too perceptive. She had always been. “It was nothing. Just… the wind.”

But her aunt’s gaze remained fixed on her, a look of suspicion mixed with something else—a hidden concern. After a long moment, her aunt sighed, turning toward the stove. “You’re not like the others. Never have been.”

Zeryn clenched her fists, the memory of the strange figure still fresh in her mind. Her aunt’s words always felt like an accusation.

“I’m just normal, Aunt Elara,” she muttered, pulling off her cloak. “Nothing special about me.”

But her aunt didn’t respond right away. Instead, she took a step closer, her hand coming to rest on Zeryn’s shoulder. The warmth of her touch was fleeting, replaced by a distant look in her eyes. “Normal? Perhaps. But you carry a mark. A mark that can never be erased.”

Zeryn’s heart skipped. “What mark?”

Elara’s eyes flicked to her neck, where a faint scar lay hidden beneath the collar of her tunic. Zeryn had always wondered about the scar—how it appeared overnight, as though a brand had been pressed into her skin. Her aunt had never explained it.

Elara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The mark of the eclipse. It is a sign. And soon, it will call to you.”

Zeryn recoiled. “What are you talking about? I don’t have any mark—”

Her aunt grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the small wooden mirror hanging by the hearth.

“Look closely,” Elara insisted, her fingers trembling. “The mark is there, whether you see it or not.”

Zeryn reluctantly gazed into the mirror. At first, she saw nothing but her reflection—dark hair, pale skin, the same haunted eyes that had looked back at her for years. But as she focused, something shifted. A faint, silvery line seemed to appear along her neck, twisting like a serpent. It was a scar, yes, but unlike any she had seen before. It pulsed with a subtle energy, a faint glow just beneath her skin.

“What is this?” she breathed. “How did this happen?”

Elara’s grip tightened on her wrist. “You were born under the eclipse, Zeryn. You are one of them—the Eclipseborn. And that power inside you, it will awaken soon. Whether you’re ready or not.”

Zeryn felt the weight of her aunt’s words press down on her. Her pulse quickened, and the familiar chill began to spread through her body, as if the darkness she had always feared was starting to surface.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I know,” Elara said softly. “But you don’t have a choice.”

Suddenly, a cold wind swept through the room, extinguishing the lantern’s flame and plunging them into darkness.

Zeryn’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel it—the pull of something ancient, something waiting. And in the distance, just beyond the walls of the cottage, she heard it again.

A whisper.

Zeryn…