Before The Seal Broke

Chapter IV

Liana Pov

Flashback

The first time I understood that fear could be taught, I was seven.

Not because someone hurt me.

But because everyone else knelt.

I stood in the center of the chamber, bare feet on cold stone, my small hands clenched into fists at my sides. Candles burned in a perfect circle around me, their flames unnaturally still, as if even fire knew better than to misbehave here.

Around the circle, the Elders lowered their heads.

Even Mother Elara.

That was when I knew something was wrong.

“You must not cry,” she whispered, fingers tightening around my shoulder. “The Mark listens.”

“I don’t have the Mark,” I said.

Not yet.

Mother Elara didn’t answer. She never did when the truth was dangerous.

The chanting began—low, rhythmic, crawling through the chamber like a living thing. Words I’d learned before I learned how to read. Words that didn’t belong to any language spoken outside these walls.

“Our bodies are vessels.”

“Our blood is borrowed.”

“Our breath is offering.”

I repeated them because I had been trained to.

Because silence was punished.

Because obedience kept you alive.

The air thickened.

Not with smoke—

with pressure.

Something unseen pressed against my chest, my ribs, my skull. I struggled to breathe, panic flaring sharp and sudden.

“Mother,” I whispered.

Her hand slipped from my shoulder.

That terrified me more than the pressure ever could.

The Elders parted.

And that was when I saw her.

My mother.

Not Mother Elara.

My real mother.

She was on her knees at the edge of the circle, wrists bound behind her back with black cord that glimmered faintly in the candlelight. Blood stained the front of her dress, dark and dry, as if it had been there for hours.

Her head was bowed.

Her hair—once carefully braided every morning—hung loose and tangled around her face.

“Mom?” My voice broke.

The chanting faltered.

For a heartbeat, the entire chamber held its breath.

She lifted her head.

Her eyes met mine.

And in them, I saw it.

Not fear.

Regret.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

The pressure snapped.

Pain exploded across my left shoulder.

I screamed.

It wasn’t heat. It wasn’t fire.

It was something carving itself into me from the inside out, rewriting flesh without breaking skin. I collapsed to my knees, clutching my shoulder as the world blurred and spun.

The chanting surged louder.

“Hold her,” someone ordered.

Hands grabbed my arms, my hair, my jaw.

I fought.

I bit.

I kicked.

It didn’t matter.

“This is necessary,” Mother Elara said, her voice trembling despite herself. “The seal must choose.”

“I don’t want it!” I sobbed.

My mother screamed then.

A raw, animal sound that ripped through the chamber and shattered something inside me.

“Stop!” she shouted. “She’s just a child—”

A gunshot echoed through the stone hall.

Not close.

Not yet.

But near enough to silence everyone.

Heavy footsteps approached from beyond the chamber doors.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Certain.

The doors opened.

He walked in like he owned the air.

Tall. Dressed in black. Blood on his boots like it was nothing more than rainwater. His gaze swept the room once, sharp and assessing, before landing on me.

The pressure vanished.

The pain dulled to a throb.

The Mark went quiet.

He looked at my shoulder.

Then at my mother.

Something unreadable passed through his eyes.

“This ritual is unfinished,” Mother Elara said quickly. “The seal has not—”

“End it,” the man said.

Two words.

Absolute.

Armed men flooded the chamber. The Elders shouted. Someone tried to run.

They didn’t make it far.

I couldn’t look away from him.

From the way the candles flickered when he moved.

From the way the Mark under my skin pulsed faintly, like it recognized him.

My mother cried out as she was dragged forward, forced onto her knees directly in front of him.

“Please,” she begged.

“I did what you asked. I gave you the location.

I gave you the girl—”

My heart stopped.

Gave you the girl.

“You lied,” he said calmly.

She shook her head violently.

“I didn’t. I swear.

I didn’t know they’d mark her tonight. I thought I had more time.”

He crouched in front of her, bringing himself to her level.

“You always run out of time,” he replied.

She looked past him—

straight at me.

“Liana,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Listen to me. Whatever happens, you must never let them tell you what you are.

The Mark doesn’t own you.

He doesn’t own you. No one—”

The gunshot was close this time.

My scream tore my throat raw.

Her body collapsed forward, hitting the stone floor with a dull sound that echoed far too loudly.

Blood spread beneath her.

Someone covered my eyes.

Too late.

The man stood slowly, turning away as if what he’d done meant nothing.

“Burn the compound,” he ordered.

“Take the girl.”

I was lifted into arms that weren’t gentle.

As we were carried out, I twisted enough to see him one last time.

He was watching me.

Not like a savior.

Not like a monster.

Like something that had just claimed a dangerous piece on the board.

And beneath my skin, the Mark burned faintly