I stared, and something scrapped at my memory. I knew this mark.
Had I seen it before? Surely I would’ve recorded it in my notes if I had. My hand hovered over the parchment, fingertips twitching as though the memory itself were trying to push through my skin.
Shaking my head, I forced myself to continue. But my finger betrayed me, flicking back to that page again and again until my pulse quickened with dread.
I stared hard at the runes, at the five circles, at the crescent moon, at the ancient symbol in whole, then closed my eyes. I knew my instinct was trying to tell me something, but I was being too dumb to understand.
Shaking my head again, I continued reading. Five minutes later, out of nowhere, an image slammed into my head, making me freeze.
It was the Archer’s back.
I frowned. But why the archer’s back again?
Letting out a breath, I closed my eyes, going through my memory, going through the dream in fragments, going through the moment the archer left his spot to the clearing, going through how the side of his face was obstructed by his hair, and how the rest was bunched up roughly in a ponytail that swayed from side to side as he walked...
My palms hit the table hard as I flicked my eyes open in shock, shooting up on my feet.
Right! It was on his neck. I’d been too distracted to really take it into account, but it’d been there. “Oh my—”
I looked around, recalling that I was in a library. But luckily, the storm outside had drowned the noise of my outburst.
Breath ragged, I stared at the old symbol of blessing. If the archer had possessed it, it meant my dream had been real...? What if my mind was making everything up including seeing the mark on the archer’s nape?
I shook my head. The dream was real. I had a feeling the dream wasn’t mine. What if it wasn’t actually a dream. What if it was real...
I stared at the book again.
Thrax.
The thought came unbidden, slicing through my chest. His back...It had matched with the archer’s.
Putting off the leash on my mind, I let it wander far, staring into nothing as I let my imagination and thoughts run wild.
Thrax’s back had been glitching with the archer’s—according to my mind. And—
“Oh, gods.” I slapped my two hands over my mouth as my eyes went wide.
The round-ish tattoo on Thrax’s nape.
My stomach bottomed out.
Could it...no, no, no, no. It couldn’t be.
I took two steps out of my seat, running my fingers through my hair as I tried to convince myself that Thrax wasn’t the archer, and more importantly, the Soulless Man.
I grabbed the book like a madwoman, flipping the pages back to the part where it said no one possessed the mark again. Everyone had died with—
The Soulless Man is immortal.
I staggered back, blood rushing in my ears.
Thrax was the Soulless Man?
I shook my head, pacing. No way. There was no way—
“Why don’t you have a shadow?” I asked, my voice lighter than I felt. Then, quickly—“And yes, I know it was taken. By who?”
His finger brushed back another strand of hair, gradually easing to the back of my head. “Selvanyra.”
