Mark Eddsworld Novels & Stories

You know that moment when you studied an infinite number of hours to approve that important test, and when you’re done you feel you've eaten the world because of how amazing your answers were, but when the teacher is revising it, you start to think that everything is wrong and all your effort went down the trash bind? It was a very long question, I know, but this is how I feel. Mark was watching me drink the coffee he had prepared when we got to his house and, although it was already cold and the drunkenness had long since passed, I continued to delay the conversation that awaited us.

'I got this' I assured him. "Would you like to tell me about your mate?" I asked changing the topic. "What has that got to do with this?" He asked. "Is she tall and beautiful? Dark haired? kind and sweet?" I teased him waiting for a reaction and I wasn't disappointed. He struggled to break free from the chain but it only burned him more. Something told me it was silver. "She is dead" he lied. In the book I was reading when the mate of a mated wolf dies the mate mark begins to slowly fade. But his was still burning.

I did not even have time to read the other information my subordinate sent along with it. The moment I learned she had been marked, it was like a bolt from the blue. As an Alpha, I knew all too well what being marked meant. It took me a long time to recover. I could not believe it. How could she have been marked by someone else? Did she not want me anymore? Did she not want Timmy anymore? The day before her wedding, I went to see her. I wanted to try one last time, but she said she didn't love me anymore.

he said dryly, raising the glass. I smirked. “To the chaos she brought with her.” We drank. The whiskey bit at first, then burned smooth all the way down. It felt good - something clean and grounding after all the blood and tension of the last few days. Calder leaned back against the table, the faint shimmer of his mark catching the firelight. Evelynn’s mark. Our mark. “You think they’ll settle down now?” he asked. “No.” I set my glass down. “But they’ll think twice before opening their mouths again.”

This was the world’s attempt to understand what it had failed to finish. “Unclean,” someone murmured. The word carried poorly. It thinned before it reached her fully. Another voice, lower: “Wrong.” Elizabeth did not turn. She felt the mark beneath her skin respond with a quiet steadiness. She was here. She was present. She was not asking to be forgiven. The village felt unreal now, like a place remembered rather than inhabited. She had been inside its fear too long to belong to it anymore. At the chapel door, Father Aldric stood speaking with Marta.

I don't answer. My room is exactly how I left it. Unmade bed. Half-empty coffee cup. Sketchbook open to a half-finished drawing of a wolf I don't remember drawing. I slam the door shut and press my back against it, sliding to the floor. My hands shake as I roll up my sleeve. The mark is still there. And for the first time, in the dim light, I realize It looks like a bite.

Elizabeth entered the shop with a small panel, ripe cherry colour, where it was written in moving letters, bright green: "Everything for everyone." That panel was a flying one and probably if you were ignorant and went past it, it would wobble in front of you until you walked inside, into the little store. As she stepped inside, she heard a harsh voice like that of a professor who scolds his student for not learning the lesson: “WHAT DO YOU WANT!?” Miss Edwards didn't know where the question came from, because there was no one there. She looked very carefully in the store so small and narrow, that almost no other person could enter. But she saw no human face.

The two persons in front of her received their marks and when it came to her turn, the scent filled her nose. She felt shivers run down her spine. She moved to stand in front of Master. Leader of the Conquerors, Master was an enigma. His name was hidden and he didn't often make an act of presence. Except for today. When he looked down at her, he saw brown pupils staring back at him. They were shining in the dim light of the podium, glowing in the dark. He drove in them, searching for darkness. That's when he saw red and blood. Trauma.

he drawled. "Women are shallow and simple like that, but it is reasonable. After all, it is a materialistic capitalist world. People get humiliated for being poor; not for being promiscuous." Cedrick took a side glance at him and put off his cigarette. "I meant you." Edwin was about to nod but stopped himself upon realizing what Cedrick meant. He exaggeratedly clutched his chest. "You wound me. I was trying my best to help you!" Meanwhile, at the Mason Estate…

“Louder this time. The walls listen.” I swallowed. “Our bodies are vessels,” I recited, voice obedient, familiar words scraping my throat. “Our blood is borrowed. Our breaths are offerings. We are the chosen keepers of the Mark, the last gate between this world and the hunger beneath it.” “And the Mark?” she prompted. The skin on my left shoulder prickled as if it heard her. “The Mark is not a curse,” I said. “The Mark is the seal.” Mother Elara’s gaze softened, but not with affection. With reverence. With fear.