Chapter 4 Mute and Marked

She had faced monsters.

She had run through cursed woods and been hunted by shadows that whispered her name.

But nothing-nothing-had ever felt like this.

Kaelen stood across the room like a thunderstorm waiting to break. Still. Silent. Unmoving. And yet his presence roared.

Ayla's heart beat against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Her palms were damp. Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she didn't dare sit.

He hadn't spoken again since the order he'd given.

> "You're going to tell me everything."

And now he just stared-those golden eyes locking onto hers with a heat that scorched through her bones.

The silence wasn't empty.

It was demanding.

Ayla opened her mouth. Tried to speak.

To explain what little she knew. To ask the hundred questions screaming in her head.

But-

Nothing.

No sound. No words. Not even a breath of her voice.

Her throat constricted. Panic bloomed across her chest. She tried again.

Still nothing.

Her lips moved uselessly. Her hands trembled at her sides. Her breath caught on a sob she couldn't release.

> Why can't I speak?

She clutched her throat, eyes wide with shock. Her gaze darted back to Kaelen's, hoping for help, for a flicker of understanding.

But his expression had shifted-brows furrowing, jaw tensing-not with confusion, but with something else.

Realization.

Recognition.

He took a slow step forward, like approaching a wounded creature that might bolt. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quieter this time.

> "You can't talk."

Not a question. A truth.

Ayla nodded slowly, her breath shallow and broken.

She didn't know what was happening to her.

Why her voice had vanished.

Why the mark on her skin still throbbed like a second heartbeat.

But she knew one thing.

Whatever this was... it started the moment she entered this world.

His world.

The world of Lycans. Kings. Curses.

And fate.

The silence stretched.

Too long.

Too heavy.

It wrapped around the room like a storm cloud ready to break. The torches on the walls flickered, shadows stretching farther than they should.

Kaelen's jaw ticked. His golden eyes darkened, sharp with frustration-or something darker.

A growl began to rise in his throat, low and guttural, like thunder rolling through his chest.

And then-

Light.

Not from the fire.

From her.

Ayla gasped, her hands flying to her collarbone as heat-searing and sudden-burst beneath her skin.

The mark.

It pulsed once.

Twice.

Then ignited.

She fell to her knees, choking on a cry she couldn't voice. The pain wasn't sharp like before-it was deeper. Like something inside her had been waiting. Sleeping. And now it was waking up.

The crescent moon on her skin blazed like silver flame, etched with intricate lines that spread out like veins of starlight. The room lit with its glow-soft but commanding, sacred and fierce.

The air shifted.

The temperature dropped.

A whisper of wind curled through the chamber-though no doors had opened.

The warriors standing guard stepped back instinctively. One muttered a word she didn't understand-an ancient tongue that felt carved in bone. Another fell to one knee, eyes wide.

Fear. Reverence.

Recognition.

Kaelen didn't move.

But his eyes snapped to the mark-locked on it like it was the first thing he'd ever truly seen.

And in that moment, something cracked across his face.

Not rage.

Not power.

But something old. Something haunted.

Like a memory he'd buried long ago had just risen from the grave-and was now burning in front of him.

> "Impossible," he whispered, but the word barely reached the air.

Ayla looked up through the shimmer of light, clutching her shoulder, her lips trembling.

She didn't know what this meant.

But he did.

And whatever it was-it changed everything.

Kaelen moved before she could flinch.

One step. Two. Then he was in front of her, taller than memory, stronger than myth.

He reached for her-not with violence, but with urgency. His hand wrapped around her upper arm, grounding her with a grip that trembled beneath the surface.

Not from anger.

But from shock.

His fingers brushed the burning crescent moon on her collarbone, still pulsing with silver light. As his skin touched hers, the mark flared brighter-reacting to him, recognizing him.

Choosing him.

And Kaelen... froze.

All the fury. All the command. All the king.

Gone.

He stared at the mark like it had cracked open the world he'd built with blood and silence. His jaw tightened, but his breath hitched-a single, subtle sound that betrayed everything.

> "Where did you get this mark?" he asked, his voice low-frayed, like a man standing on the edge of a truth he never wanted to face.

Ayla blinked up at him, confusion swimming in her eyes.

She tried to speak. Nothing came.

So she just shook her head, slow and broken, her lips parting in frustration.

> I don't know.

But Kaelen's gaze didn't waver.

He was seeing more than the mark.

He was seeing her.

And whatever he found in her face-whatever lingered in the edges of her existence-made his expression darken.

His fingers released her slowly, as though letting go of something holy or cursed. He stepped back, lips curling into a line of disbelief.

> "This mark is forbidden," he murmured.

His voice dropped lower. A whisper meant for the past.

> "Extinct."

Ayla's chest tightened. Extinct?

Her mind raced, but she had no time to question him.

Kaelen turned sharply to the guards posted along the edges of the chamber. His tone snapped back into steel.

> "Leave us."

The warriors hesitated.

He didn't raise his voice-but he didn't have to.

> "Now."

The word hit like a command from the gods.

One by one, they filed out, eyes downcast, the heavy doors closing behind them like a verdict.

Now it was just them.

The girl with the forgotten mark.

And the King who remembered too much.

The doors slammed shut with a finality that made Ayla flinch.

The silence that followed was colder than the wind outside.

Kaelen stood still as stone, but his chest rose and fell with uneven breath. His eyes-no longer just golden, but glowing-were locked on her mark like it had betrayed him.

Or resurrected something he'd buried long ago.

He didn't speak.

Not right away.

Ayla pushed herself upright, the glow of the crescent moon on her collarbone slowly fading-but its echo still pulsing through her blood.

> "What is it?" she rasped, her voice fragile but finally present. "What does this mean?"

Her question cut through the thick air.

Kaelen's jaw clenched. His lips parted like he meant to lie. To deflect.

But instead...

He stepped closer, and for the first time, he looked afraid.

Not of her.

Of what she represented.

> "This can't be," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "It isn't possible."

But it was.

She was here.

Alive.

Marked.

> "Tell me," she pressed, voice shaking. "Tell me what I am."

Kaelen lifted his gaze-slowly, steadily-until his eyes met hers.

There was no cruelty in them now.

Only fire.

Old fire.

A burn from another time. Another war.

> "It means," he said, voice low and raw, "you were never supposed to survive."

Ayla's breath caught.

> "Survive what?"

Kaelen didn't answer.

Because in that moment-he didn't see a girl anymore.

He saw a name the world had tried to erase.

He saw a bloodline they'd buried under ash and bone.

And it had just walked into his court... glowing.

---

Fade to black.