The Hunter's Mark

Chapter 5

Camryn's POV

I couldn't sleep.

After Amon left, Sarah showed me to a small tent at the edge of the camp, barely more than a canvas lean-to with a bedroll and a wooden crate that served as both table and storage. She'd given me a change of clothes, dark and practical like everyone else wore, and left me alone with instructions to rest.

But how was I supposed to rest when everything I knew about reality had been turned upside down?

I sat on the bedroll, running my fingers over my new face. The features felt so unfamiliar as I touched my now sharper cheekbones, a more delicate jawline, and fuller lips than mine had been. This body was younger and somehow stronger, but it wasn't mine.

The woman who died in that body, her soul passed on. Yours took its place.

Marcus's words echoed in my head. 

"Who were you?" I whispered to myself.

I stood up, suddenly restless, and noticed a small leather satchel tucked behind the wooden crate. It looked worn and well-used, with buckles that had been repaired multiple times.

Sarah hadn't mentioned it. Maybe it had been left here by whoever used this tent before me, forgotten in their hurry to move on. 

My hands trembled as I pulled the satchel out and unbuckled it.

Inside were journals. Three are bound in dark leather with pages yellowed at the edges. The top one had a name embossed on the cover in gold lettering that had mostly worn away.

Camryn Chavez.

I opened the first journal carefully, mindful of the fragile pages. The handwriting inside was neat, and each letter was carefully formed. But the words themselves were incomprehensible; they were written in a language I didn't recognize. The letters looked almost like English at first glance, but they were all wrong, and there were symbols scattered throughout that I'd never seen before.

"Damn it, what is this supposed to mean?" I muttered, flipping through page after page of text I couldn't read.

But then, toward the middle of the journal, I found a section written in English. The handwriting was shakier here, as if the writer had been learning as they went.

Day 47 since assignment. I've been placed with House Rosetti as a genealogist, my cover for the real work. They don't suspect yet that I'm digging deeper than family trees and bloodline records. But I can't stop now. The anomalies, the System, the Houses themselves—it's all connected to something older, something they've been hiding for centuries.

I found another reference today in the archives. House Gold. They've scrubbed it from almost every record, but fragments remain if you know where to look. A sixth House that supposedly fell during the civil wars, but the timeline doesn't match. Something else happened to them. Something the other Houses don't want anyone to discover.

House Gold. I kept reading, my heart pounding faster with each entry.

It's day 63. They're watching me now. I can feel it. Inquisitor Dahlia questioned me about my research today and asked why I was interested in "defunct bloodlines." I lied and said it was academic curiosity. She didn't believe me. I need to be more careful.

Day 71. Found the connection. House Gold didn't just fall; they were destroyed. Systematically erased because of what they created. Technologies that could have ended the anomaly plague entirely, but the other Houses saw it as a threat to their power. Without anomalies, there's no need for Hunters. Without Hunters, the Houses lose control.

My hands were shaking now. This woman, Camryn, had uncovered something dangerous enough that people were watching her, questioning her. 

I flipped frantically through the rest of the journal, but the English entries stopped. The remaining pages were all in that foreign language I couldn't read.

The second journal was the same, mostly incomprehensible text with occasional English passages scattered throughout. It contained research notes about anomaly classifications, sketches of strange symbols, and fragments of conversations she'd overheard. It read like the work of someone obsessed, someone who knew they were running out of time.

Day 94. They're going to kill me. I can feel it. I've learned too much, dug too deep. But I can't stop now. If I can just find proof and understand what House Gold was trying to do...

Someone needs to know the truth. Someone needs to finish this.

The final entry in the second journal made my blood run cold.

Day 103. This will be my last entry. I'm being called before the Council tomorrow. They know. I don't know how, but they know everything. I've hidden copies of my research in places they won't think to look. If anyone finds this, if anyone reads this, please. Don't let them bury the truth again. Don't let my death be for nothing.

The third journal was completely blank except for the first page, where Camryn had drawn what looked like a family tree. Names branched out from a central point, most of them crossed out or marked with dates. At the very bottom, isolated from the others, was a single name circled multiple times: Camryn Chavez.

I closed the journals and sat back, my mind racing, holding her research.

"Camryn Chavez," I whispered.

The tent flap opened, and I jumped, quickly moving to hide the journals.

"Relax," Amon said, stepping inside. "I'm the one who left those for you."

I stared at him. "What?"

He gestured to the satchel. "The journals. I put them here before Sarah brought you to this tent."

"Why would you..." I started, then it hit me. "You knew. You knew whose body this is."

"I recognized you the moment I saw you." Amon sat down on the wooden crate, his winter-blue eyes serious. "Camryn Chavez. She was a genealogist assigned to House Rosetti about six months ago. She was smart and curious, and she asked too many questions about things she should have left alone."

"She was executed," I said quietly. "For what she discovered."

"Yes." He nodded. "She got called before the Council on charges of treason and sedition. They said she was spreading dangerous lies about the Houses. She was dead within twenty-four hours." He paused. "I tried to warn her to stop digging, to let it go. She wouldn't listen."

I looked down at the journals in my lap. "She found something about House Gold."

"She found a lot of things. Most of them will kill you if you keep asking about them." Amon leaned forward. "That's why I left the journals for you. You have a right to know whose body you're wearing and what she died for. But you also need to understand the danger. Camryn's research got her executed. If people find out you're following in her footsteps..."

"They'll kill me too," I finished.

"Exactly." He stood up. "So you have a choice to make, Lucille Reyes. You can leave those journals buried, forget about House Gold and secret conspiracies, and focus on surviving the Hunter System like everyone else. Or..."

"Or I can finish what she started," I said.

Amon studied me for a long moment. "You understand what that means? The risk you'd be taking?"

I thought about Maddie pushing me off that building and how now I was in a new body, in a nightmare world, with a chance to do something that actually mattered.

"Lucille Reyes is dead," I said, meeting his eyes. "She fell from a building because she was too trusting, too naive. But Camryn Chavez... she was brave enough to dig for truth even when it cost her everything." I placed my hand on the journals. "If I'm going to survive here, if I'm going to escape this place, I need to be more like her than like the person I used to be."

"So you're taking her name."

"I'm taking more than her name." I opened the first journal again, looking at the incomprehensible text. "I'm taking her mission, her questions, and her fight." I looked up at Amon. "But I'll need help. This language, Lenorian, I can't read most of her research. Can you teach me?"

For the first time since I'd met him, Amon smiled. It wasn't warm exactly, but it held something like respect. "Most newcomers spend weeks just trying to accept that this world exists. You've been here less than a day, and you're already planning to take on the same conspiracy that got your predecessor killed."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes." He moved toward the tent entrance, then paused. "But Camryn, understand this: I'll teach you the language. I'll even help you understand some of what's in those journals. But if your digging attracts the wrong attention, if the Council starts asking questions about you..." He met my eyes. "I won't be able to protect you."

"I'm not asking you to protect me," I said. "I'm asking you to help me learn how to protect myself."

He nodded slowly. "Then we start tomorrow. Language lessons are in the morning, and combat training is in the afternoon. You'll need both if you want to survive what's coming."

"What is coming?"

"Your first deployment to the surface. Three days from now." His expression turned grim. "That's when you'll learn exactly what the Hunter System really means. That's when you'll discover if you're strong enough to survive this world, let alone change it." 

“Luci…Camryn, get some rest now,” he said and stepped out of the tent.

After he left, I sat alone with the journals, running my fingers over Camryn's handwriting. Somewhere in these pages was a truth dangerous enough to kill for. A secret the Houses had buried along with the woman who discovered it.

"I won't let them bury it again," I whispered. "I promise."