Chapter 36

The mark on my hand wouldn’t stop itching.

The mark on my hand had grown darker. Its presence, once faint, now felt like a constant whisper at the back of my mind. At first, I’d ignored it, brushing off the strange tingling sensation as an aftereffect of the ritual. But deep down, I knew better. This wasn’t something I could dismiss anymore. It wasn’t going away.

Sitting in the quiet of my nest, I stared at it. The lines were no longer subtle—they were defined, almost alive, moving in rhythm with my pulse. I traced the edges, feeling the warmth beneath the skin, and shivered. Something about it felt… familiar. Like it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to show itself.

I reached for one of the old books I’d found in the library, flipping through its pages until I landed on the section I’d read earlier. The words blurred for a moment before they snapped into focus.

“The mark is not merely a symbol. It is a call—a binding pact between Shadow magic and its chosen vessel. To receive the mark is to be chosen for the trials, where one must face the truth of their being, light and dark, to ascend as the Liege of Shadows.”

I closed the book with a snap, my heart racing. I hadn’t wanted to believe it before, but there was no denying it now. The mark wasn’t just some random manifestation of power. It was a call. A call from Shadow magic itself.

I stood up and paced, running my fingers through my hair as the reality of it sank in. Chosen. The word echoed in my mind like a bell tolling in the distance. I’d been chosen to be its vessel. To undergo the trials. But what did that mean for me?

I glanced down at the mark again, swallowing hard. Shadow magic had chosen me for something far bigger than I’d ever imagined. This wasn’t about being Dark Cored, or even about the power I thought I understood. It was about something deeper.

The Liege of Shadows.

The thought chilled me. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t even understand half of what being the Liege meant. The Lieges of Order—Light, Darkness, and Shadows—each had their place, their purpose. I’d always known about them, the stories passed down through whispers and cautionary tales. But those were just stories. I never imagined I could become a part of that legacy.

But here I was. Chosen.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath. The mark burned hotter now, like it was reacting to my thoughts. It wanted something from me. No… it was expecting something from me.

I sank back onto the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress to ground myself. The trials… I knew enough to understand they wouldn’t be easy. They weren’t just a test of strength or willpower. They were personal. Intimately personal. Each person who faced the trials would have to confront the darkest parts of themselves. And the lightest. To survive, you had to strip away everything you thought you were and embrace the truth of your soul, raw and unfiltered.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to do that.

My gaze fell to the journal again, the passage replaying in my mind. It was said that no one ever spoke of the trials. Those who passed them took their experiences to the grave, a secret known only to the person who emerged as the Liege. The trials shaped you, changed you. They revealed who you really were. And that terrified me.

Because what if I wasn’t who I thought I was?

I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing. My whole life, I’d thought I was Dark Cored. I’d accepted it, embraced it even, thinking my abilities were tied to the dead, to necromancy. But this… this mark was proof that I was something else. Something more. Shadow magic had claimed me. It had been waiting for me, watching me, until the moment it decided I was ready.

And now it was calling.

I closed my eyes, a shudder running through me. What would the trials demand of me? What parts of myself would I have to face? I’d spent so long running from my past, from the things I didn’t want to acknowledge. The idea of looking into the deepest corners of my soul, of facing the darkest and lightest parts of myself, was terrifying.

But there was no escaping it now.

The power thrummed beneath my skin, pulsing through the mark, and I realized something that sent a fresh wave of fear through me: the mark wasn’t just a call. It was a promise. A promise that if I passed the trials, if I embraced everything Shadow magic demanded of me, I would become the Liege of Shadows.

And that kind of power… it was impossible to ignore.

I sat up, my hands trembling slightly as I stared down at the mark. It was beautiful and terrible all at once, a reminder of what I could become. But was I ready to face it? Could I confront the truth of who I was and still come out the other side whole?

I didn’t know.

But I couldn’t run from this any longer. Shadow magic had chosen me, and if I didn’t face the trials, if I didn’t accept this path, someone else would be chosen in my place. And that thought—of someone else wielding the power that was meant for me—lit a fire in my chest.

I wasn’t sure I was ready. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready. But this was my path, and I couldn’t turn away from it.

The mark pulsed once more, a gentle thrum of approval.

Whatever the trials held for me, I would face them. And if I emerged, I would be the Liege of Shadows.