SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 68: Tear

Chapter 68: Tear

The shadow moved closer to Morvane, its form shifting and twisting unnaturally in the moonlit clearing. It seemed to ripple as though it were made of liquid darkness, stretching and compressing in unpredictable ways. Slowly, the figure took on a more defined shape, its outline sharpening and sharpening, until it formed a startlingly familiar appearance. Morvane’s heart began to pound in his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he realized who—or rather, what—it was. His eyes widened in shock, the air around him growing heavier as the shadow’s figure solidified. The stance, the colors, and the posture were unmistakable. The silhouette was so eerily familiar that it sent a cold shiver crawling up his spine.

"Drevon?" Morvane whispered, his voice trembling, though he tried to mask the fear creeping into his chest.

The shadow’s grin grew wider, its twisted expression becoming even more disturbing as it responded. "Wrong! Hahaha," it sneered, its voice distorted and harsh, the laughter echoing unnaturally in the silence of the forest.

Morvane’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced, grasping for the right questions to ask. "Are you a demon, like Drevon?" His voice wavered, but there was an edge to his words now. The unease was palpable, but his curiosity burned even hotter. "Are you the one from earlier? The one that lingered in the shadows before King Medas arrived in the village?" His breath quickened, the weight of his own questions hanging in the thick air.

The shadow seemed to pause, a low, rumbling laugh spilling from its form before it responded. "Yeah, you’re right! I’m the one who lingered in the shadows right before King Medas showed up." The shadow’s voice deepened, reverberating in a way that made Morvane’s skin crawl. "And of course I am a demon. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Oh, and I can feel my brother’s presence around you, so you must be the Markless, right? The one granted the power of a demon?"

Morvane’s heart skipped again, a shiver running down his spine at the mention of his status as the Markless. The words felt like an ice pick buried in his chest, but before he could speak, the shadow spoke once more, its voice gaining a dark and unsettling undertone.

"Drevon, are you there? Show yourself, brother! Or are you still resting after your last battle?" The shadow called out into the stillness, the words dripping with mocking familiarity.

Before Morvane could react, a shimmer of light interrupted the tension in the air, and suddenly, Drevon materialized beside him. His appearance was unmistakable—dark and spectral, a ghostly figure shimmering with an aura of cold energy. His gaze immediately turned toward the shadow, and his expression morphed from confusion to utter disbelief as he took in the sight before him.

"Eliad?!" Drevon exclaimed, his voice a mixture of surprise and incredulity. "How the hell are you here? How did you manage to get into Baltalaha? What are you doing here? Did you cause another mess like you always do?"

Eliad, now clearly revealed as the shadow, chuckled low in response. His laugh was rich and deep, though there was a peculiar edge to it. "Oh, Drevon, it’s been too long," he said, his voice smooth but edged with something darker. "I don’t really know how I ended up here, to be honest. One moment, I was enjoying my time in the Lower Realm, and then—poof—out of nowhere, a brilliant light burst through the air."

Morvane and Drevon exchanged a glance, their attention riveted on Eliad as he continued. His tone had shifted, the curiosity in his voice making the hairs on Morvane’s arms stand up. "When I looked up, I saw it—a tear in the air, just like a crack in the sky. It was shaped like... well, a tear—it looked like it had been sliced open." Eliad paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to hang in the air. "So, naturally, I stepped through it. And here I am—stuck in Baltalaha."

Drevon’s face darkened immediately, his voice rising with disbelief and mounting suspicion. "That’s impossible!" he snapped. "There’s no way for a demon to enter Baltalaha, not without... unless..." Drevon’s gaze narrowed further, his expression turning cold. He shifted slightly, his voice growing colder still. "Unless you were chosen to be the guide for the new Markless, but that’s impossible, too, because I’m the demon chosen to guide the Markless in this generation."

Eliad’s expression didn’t change; he tilted his head with a grin, though there was a hint of something mischievous in his eyes. "Well," Eliad said with a mock sigh, "I’m just as surprised as you are, brother. But here I am." He folded his arms, his form flickering slightly in the dim light as though the shadows around him were still at war with his physical form. "And before you start asking too many questions, let me make something clear—I don’t want the other eight demons to find out I’m here. That’s why I covered the tear with black energy. I needed to conceal it, to keep the others from noticing."

Drevon’s jaw tightened, his gaze still fixed on Eliad as he processed the information, suspicion thick in the air. Meanwhile, Morvane stood silently, struggling to grasp the enormity of what he was hearing. The words were far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined, and the shadowy presence of Eliad left him with a terrible sense of unease.

"Now, Drevon, don’t get all worked up. I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m here to lay low. If the gods find out about me, I’m in for some serious trouble."

Drevon’s expression hardened even further, his eyes narrowed like a storm brewing. "Eliad, let me make one thing crystal clear. If you cause even the slightest hint of trouble, I’ll deal with you myself. Don’t forget what you’re capable of, and don’t forget who I am."

Eliad’s smile widened, sharp teeth flashing in the dim light, as if savoring the tension. "Oh, Drevon," he teased, his voice dripping with mockery. "Still so serious. Still so protective. It’s cute, really." He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "But don’t worry, brother. I’m not here to start a fight. I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine."

Drevon’s fists clenched, but he said nothing. The air between them crackled with unspoken threats, but neither moved, both unwilling to back down.

Morvane, still unsure of what to make of this encounter, broke the silence. "What happens now?" he asked, his voice tentative but firm. "What does this mean for us?"

Eliad straightened, his demeanor shifting into one of calculated indifference. "What happens now, Markless, is up to you," he said, his tone suddenly businesslike. "I’ve done what I came to do. The tear is hidden, and I have no intention of getting involved in your little crusade. As for me? I’m just a temporary resident of Baltalaha. Nothing more, nothing less."

Drevon’s expression remained skeptical, but he nodded slowly. "We’ll be watching you," he warned, his tone leaving no room for argument. "For now, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

Eliad chuckled softly, his form beginning to fade into the shadows, his presence becoming almost ethereal. "Relax, brother," he called, his voice now a distant echo. "You’ve got nothing to worry about... yet."

And with that, Eliad vanished, leaving Morvane and Drevon standing alone in the eerie silence of the forest.

After the unsettling encounter with Eliad, Morvane and Drevon made their way back to Nirvath, the familiar sight of the city’s towering stone walls offering a sense of relief. The glowing lanterns and bustling streets made the journey back seem almost like a return to normalcy, a stark contrast to the ominous encounter they had just left behind.

Vianna was waiting for them at the gates. Her calm demeanor softened with a hint of relief as she spotted them. "You’re back," she said, her voice warm as she pulled Morvane into a quick embrace. "How was the journey?"

Morvane, still processing everything that had just happened, glanced at Drevon before answering. "It’s... a long story," he replied, his voice heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Vianna’s eyes seemed to read him instantly. She didn’t press him for more details but instead offered a soft smile, her gaze understanding. "Come inside. You both look like you could use some rest."

The days following their return were peaceful. Nirvath was as lively and bustling as always, with merchants shouting their wares and townsfolk going about their daily routines. Vianna made sure Morvane was well-fed and had plenty of time to recover, although his mind was still far from at ease.

In the evenings, he found himself staring out the window of Vianna’s home, lost in thought. The memory of his grandmother haunted him—her gentle smile, the way she always seemed to know just what to say. He couldn’t shake the worry that lingered in his heart, the fear that something might have happened to her while he was gone.

One evening, Vianna found him sitting alone on the porch, his shoulders hunched and his expression clouded with unspoken worry. She approached quietly, her footsteps light against the wooden floor, and sat beside him.

"You’ve been quiet these past few days," she remarked softly, noticing his distant gaze. The firelight flickered between them, casting shadows that danced like memories in the night.

Morvane hesitated before speaking, his voice almost too soft to hear. "I can’t stop thinking about my grandmother," he said, his words barely above a whisper. "I left her behind in the village. What if something happens to her while I’m here? I should be there to protect her. She’s getting older, and... I don’t want to fail her."

Vianna listened carefully, her gaze steady and filled with empathy. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him the comfort of her presence, her touch warm yet firm. She didn’t need to say much—her gesture alone was enough to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

"Your grandmother is stronger than you think," she said softly, her voice calm and soothing. "She’s faced hardship before, and she’s made it through. And you’re not alone in this, Morvane. You have us. Everything will be alright. She’d want you to focus on what you need to do here. Worrying won’t change anything—it will only take away your peace."

Morvane looked at her, his dark eyes searching her face, torn between doubt and longing. For a moment, he felt a flicker of hope. It was faint, but it was enough to give him pause. He took a slow, steady breath, trying to let her words sink in.

"I just... I can’t help but think she’s alone out there," he whispered, his voice fragile. "She’s lived through so much, but she’s getting older. I don’t want her to be vulnerable. Not without someone by her side."

Vianna remained silent for a moment, understanding more than words could say. She squeezed his shoulder gently, grounding him with her touch, and her voice was steady, a steady anchor in the storm of his thoughts.

"Don’t think negatively," Vianna assured him, her tone resolute. "Have faith. The people we care about are stronger than we give them credit for. Your grandmother has made it this far because of her resilience. And you are here now, doing something important. She’d want you to continue. To push forward."

Morvane exhaled a long, slow breath, feeling a slight shift within him, the weight of his fears lightening just a little. Vianna’s words wrapped around him like a shield, pushing away the lingering worry. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to feel a small flicker of hope.

"Thank you, Vianna," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I just needed to hear that. I don’t want to keep thinking I’m abandoning her."

Vianna smiled, a knowing, gentle smile. "You’re not abandoning her, Morvane. You’re making sure the world doesn’t stay the same. So that when you return, you’ll be able to give her a better life. Focus on that. Focus on what you can do. You’ll make it through this."

Morvane nodded slowly, his expression softening as a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. The worry still lingered, but it felt more manageable now.

For the first time in days, he allowed himself to lean back, his shoulders relaxing under Vianna’s comforting presence. The fire crackled softly beside them, but his mind wasn’t entirely consumed by fear anymore. He had something to hold onto—a seed of hope that, with time, could grow into something stronger. And for now, that was enough.

A few moments later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor before a guard appeared at the doorway, his expression tense. "Your Majesty, a girl named Luna is here to see Morvane, Lady Vianna."

Vianna, who had been silent in thought, lifted her gaze and nodded. "Let her in."

The guard stepped aside, and Luna rushed in, her breathing uneven, as if she had been running. Without hesitation, she made her way straight to Morvane, urgency clear in her every movement.

"Morvane, I have something to tell you," Luna said, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with tension. "It’s urgent. Really urgent."

Morvane turned as hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor. Luna emerged from the shadows, breathless, her cloak barely settled from the speed of her arrival. There was urgency in her eyes, something that made him tense.

"What is it? What do you have to tell me, Luna? Did something happen?" His voice was steady, but there was a sharpness beneath it.

Luna pressed a hand to her chest, steadying her breath. "It’s urgent," she said, her tone laced with urgency. "I traveled here as fast as I could because... Esmael—"

Morvane’s expression darkened. "What about Esmael?"

She hesitated, as if searching for the right words, before finally meeting his gaze. "His power... his fire magic... it’s uncontrollable."

Morvane exhaled sharply, his stance relaxing slightly. "He’s always like that."

Luna shook her head. "No, Morvane." She took a step closer, voice low, almost pleading. "This time, he did something worse.