Chapter 11: Rune Marked
The mark on his forearm never stopped pulsing, like an external object. Even after they left the dead grove and the whispering sapling, Riven could still feel it.
The Ashen Rune had inscribed itself into his forearm, always warm—never really hot—but it pulsed softly, just enough to remind him it was still there.
He didn't know whether it was feeding on him or fueling him, or maybe both.
Veyla didn't say anything for a long time until they reached the ruins of what looked like it once resembled a bell tower, now crooked and split in half by some long-forgotten battle.
They made a camp beneath it to rest for a while.
"You haven't said much," she whispered.
Riven turned to her, but didn't say anything.
"Exactly," she muttered. "Is there something bothering you?"
He hadn't noticed his hands had stopped trembling, his wounds stopped aching, the soreness in his limbs from walking for days without rest was gone. He was too busy thinking to notice any of it.
It all started after the sapling did something to him. The strength should have felt like a blessing—but it didn't, it felt more like a replacement.
Like something had slid into his skin and started pumping energy into him.