Chapter 5: Silent Mark
The wooden cart stopped in the courtyard of a massive building that stood atop the Canopy. Aren's stomach churned, not only from the long journey from the Sanctum of Yggraeth but also from the fear that had lingered since the night of Lynden. Before them loomed the Tower of Luminaris, the highest seat of the Concordium Council, its walls gleaming like jade under the sunlight.
Kaelen Varis, the Warden captain who had rescued him, was the first to disembark and motioned for Aren to follow. "Don't fall behind. The Council doesn't like to wait."
Aren clutched his metal pendant tightly. Every step toward the gate felt heavier, as though the world around him grew increasingly unfamiliar and every gaze cast upon him whispered a single question: why was he the one who survived.
They entered a vast council chamber, its floor crafted from the crystalized sap of the World Tree, reflecting a soft blue glow. Twenty seats encircled a great round table; in each sat representatives of Yggraeth's major races—humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin, dragon-blooded, and others.
The moment Aren stepped inside, the echoing debates came to an abrupt halt. Dozens of eyes fell on him, filled with judgment—some curious, others doubtful.
A silver-haired elf with an emotionless face spoke first. "So this is…the child who bears the Silent Mark?"
Kaelen nodded. "Aren of Lynden. The sole survivor of the First Fracture."
Whispers rippled through the room. A burly dwarf struck his iron staff against the floor. "If the legend is true, then this child is not merely a survivor—he is a threat. The Seal of the Infernal Root grows weaker. Do you truly wish to let such a risk live?"
A human representative, an elderly woman named Myrren, met the dwarf's gaze sharply. "Or perhaps he is the only one who can save us. We cannot act rashly without witnessing the power of that mark firsthand."
Aren was forced to stand at the center of the chamber. From a side door, two Wardens dragged in a creature bound in black chains—a low-class demon captured from the Middle Trunk. Aren locked eyes with the demon, its crimson gaze filled with unfiltered hatred.
"Use the mark," commanded one of the council members. "Prove who you are."
Aren stared at his own hand, where the faint outline of the Silent Mark pulsed on the back of his left hand. His heart pounded. "I…I don't know how…"
The demon thrashed, the black chains rattling violently. Terror clenched his throat, yet deep within, something stirred—an instinctive answer to the creature's hatred. The mark flared to life, runes igniting in a dark blue glow.
Aren felt an overwhelming urge—to pull something out of the demon. In an instant, the mark erupted with dark energy, and the demon's soul was wrenched into him. The creature collapsed lifeless, its body disintegrating into ash.
Aren staggered, chest tight. Power surged through his veins, muscles tensing with newfound strength, yet along with it came a chorus of whispers—the lingering hatred of the absorbed demon echoing within his mind.
The chamber fell silent, the only sound Aren's ragged breathing.
The silver-haired elf broke the stillness. "As I suspected…the Silent Mark is a seal unlike any other. Each demon soul he absorbs strengthens it—and simultaneously weakens the Seal of the Infernal Root."
An elderly beastkin growled. "The more he wields that power, the closer we edge to apocalypse. This child carries the seed of our destruction."
"But this power is also the only force capable of countering the coming invasion," the human representative interjected. "Killing him now does not guarantee our safety. Hiding him and training him…may be our only option."
After heated debate, the majority reached a decision: Aren would not be executed. Knowledge of the Silent Mark would remain secret to prevent mass panic, and Aren would be sent to the Wardens' Academy under strict supervision.
Kaelen inclined his head toward Aren. "You'll come with us. Think of this…as your second chance."
As they left the Tower of Luminaris, Aren still trembled. The demon's whispers had not yet faded from his mind. On the cart, Rhela, a beastkin from Kaelen's team, watched him with concern.
"Are you all right?" she asked softly.
Aren shook his head. "I feel…like I'm not myself."
Kaelen, seated at the front, spoke flatly, "That's the price of wielding such power. Don't let those voices take hold—or we will all pay the price."
They arrived at the Wardens' Academy, a sprawling building with a complex architecture and crystal built among the wall. Here, the races of Yggraeth were trained to become defenders of the world.
In the main hall, they were greeted by an elf woman with long black hair and emerald-green eyes. Kaelen introduced her as Serin Elthrae, the instructor assigned to oversee Aren's training.
Serin studied him for a long moment before kneeling to meet his gaze. "You are Aren, bearer of the Silent Mark. From today, you are under my care. And first, you must understand the kind of world you face."
She led him to a high balcony show him how big canopy is.
"Yggraeth is divided into three layers," Serin explained. "The deep Roots, the origin of demons where the Infernal Root lies; the Middle Trunk, the vastest of all regions, once the battleground of the First War between Yggraeth's races and the demons, now home to most civilizations; and the Canopy, the lofty expanse where the great races govern and safeguard the world. All of this is bound together by Arcana—the energy that flows through the World Tree and every living being within it."
Serin raised a hand, summoning a wisp of green light. "Arcana grants the Wardens their power, shaping the magic we wield. But your power…stems from something older and far more dangerous. The Silent Mark is not Arcana—it is a seal that devours the very essence of demons."
Aren clutched his metal pendant. "So…every time I use this power…the Seal of the Infernal Root weakens?"
Serin nodded solemnly. "Yes. Each soul you absorb strengthens you but also draws this world closer to ruin. That is your fate, Aren. Whether you become our shield or the sword that cleaves this world apart—that choice rests with you."
Aren gazed into the distant horizon, his mind plagued by questions and the alien whispers still gnawing at his thoughts. For the first time, he grasped the weight of the Silent Mark—a power that could either save or doom Yggraeth.
Behind him, Serin spoke: "The Wardens' Academy was built on the remnants of the First War, where all races are trained to stand against their return. Tomorrow, your training begins. The world will not wait for you to be ready."
Aren clenched his left hand, the mark pulsing faintly, as if in answer.
He was no longer merely the survivor of Lynden. Today, his destiny in the world of Yggraeth had truly begun.