Bloodmarked: The forgotten seal

One soul.

Two vessels.

One liar.

Cairen wasn't sure which one he was anymore.

Flickers

The morning after the vision, Cairen woke up standing.

Fully dressed. Boots laced. Sword strapped.

Problem was — he hadn't done any of it.

His breath caught. The air in his room was hot and metallic. Ash stained his fingertips.

A smear of soot marked the wall beside his door, in the shape of a handprint.

Not his.

"This isn't me," he whispered.

His blade vibrated in response. Kael'dros was silent — but the silence felt… watchful.

Like someone else was listening too.

Tessia's Rules for Lying

Tessia caught him stumbling down the corridor, disheveled and visibly shaken. She leaned against the wall with a piece of toast in one hand and her dagger in the other — both equally dangerous.

"Rough night?" she asked.

"I lost time."

"Join the club. It's called not sleeping."

He looked at her. "No, I mean— I lost hours. I blacked out. And I woke up armed."

Tessia's expression dropped the humor like a mask sliding off. "Did you hurt anyone?"

"I don't know."

"Check your boots."

He blinked. "Why?"

"Because blood's nosy. It gets everywhere. Especially when it's not yours."

He looked.

Clean. For now.

"Okay," she said, taking a bite. "We're in denial stage. That's fine. Rule #2 of lying to yourself is act normal until it breaks you."

"…What's Rule #1?"

"Don't get caught."

Mirrorfires

Lyrix brought him to the scrying chamber that evening — a tall room with glass-like flame suspended from the ceiling in long coils. The room reacted to dragon soul frequencies. When Cairen entered, it screamed.

"Well, that's not ideal," she muttered.

The fire in the coils turned gold, then red, then… black. Not void-black. Burnt-black. The kind of magic that left scars on the air.

"That's not yours," Lyrix said flatly.

"It's him."

"The mirror?"

Cairen nodded. "I think… he's getting closer."

Lyrix turned slowly. "If he's drawing power from your soul, we don't have much time. You'll either collapse or split."

"Split?"

"Mind, magic, memory. Maybe even body."

He stared. "So I'm a walking magical identity crisis."

"More like a slow-motion explosion with cheekbones."

Ember Tongue's Gift

In the southern reaches of the Emberwilds, the cult gathered again.

This time, their altar bore something new: a scale.

Not dragon. Human.

It pulsed with twinflame energy.

The mirror-Cairen — now dressed in ash-weave robes and smiling wider — approached it.

He laid a hand on the scale and whispered:

"One soul… isn't enough."

Then he turned toward the robed cultists and declared:

"The original still breathes. Still controls the fire. But we… we shall split it."

A chorus of whispers followed. Then a flame erupted from the ground — dark crimson with violet edges.

And from that fire rose a spell.

Ancient. Forbidden. Meant only for dragons.

Soul Severance.

"Borrowed Magic"

Back in the Vault, Cairen followed the firetrail through the archives, feeling heat trail behind his footsteps — though he'd walked barefoot.

He found Tessia waiting in the scroll alcove again.

She held two ancient tomes.

"I've been doing my own research," she said.

"You say that like you're not about to commit mild treason."

She handed him the book. "It's not treason if the dragon told me to."

Cairen blinked. "Your dragon talked to you?"

Tessia looked sheepish. "She sings. Mostly insults."

"What does she call you?"

"'Squishy flame vessel with bad taste in men.'"

"…Fair."

They both smiled. Briefly.

Then Cairen opened the tome and read the title aloud.

"On the Severing of Souls and the Fracturing of Fire."

He looked up. "Are you sure this isn't illegal?"

Tessia winked. "If it was, I'd already be on fire."

He paused. "Wait—how do you know you're not?"

She shrugged. "Haven't checked lately."

He's Inside Me

It happened that night.

Cairen's reflection in the mirror blinked after he did.

And then it spoke.

"You dream small," the mirrored version said. "Fire should consume, not protect."

Cairen stepped back.

"You're not real."

"Then why am I inside your flame? Why does your blade tremble when I breathe?"

The room flared with heat. Kael'dros lit up beside him, blade burning bright gold, trying to drown out the voice.

It failed.

Cairen clutched his chest. His heartbeat doubled. Sweat poured down his face. And for a moment…

He didn't know whose body he was in.

Breaking Point

Lyrix found him in the hall an hour later.

"You're fading," she said. "I can feel it."

"Then find a way to stop it."

"I have."

He froze. "You have a way to block him?"

"Not block. Bind."

"…What's the difference?"

"One keeps him out. The other keeps you in."

A long silence.

Finally, Cairen said, "Do it."

And Lyrix, without another word, raised her hand and etched a burning seal onto his chest.

The mark burned through his skin — and through his soul.

Final Scene: The Fracture

In the Emberwild, the mirror-Cairen staggered.

One of the cultists ran to him. "What is it?"

He clutched his chest, where a glowing brand now appeared — mirroring Cairen's.

"He marked himself," the double hissed. "He thinks that will stop me."

"Will it?"

He smiled — wide, sharp.

"No. But it will hurt."

⚠️ Call to Action: Keep Reading… If You Dare

The soul is splitting. The fire is choosing.

One twin burns bright. The other burns everything.

Chapter 9 – "Burning the Name" → continues the madness.

Who still controls the flame… and who's just fuel?