The mark

Maxilin's mind raced as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Where am I? He wondered, his eyes darting around the shoreline. The once calm sea had turned violent, with waves crashing against the beach with ferocious intensity. The sky above remained a menacing crimson, and the air was thick with tension.

As he scanned the beach, something caught his eye — a glimmering gem half-buried in the sand. It was unmistakable; it belonged to his sword. The water momentarily pulled back, revealing the weapon more clearly.

"Max," the voice called out again, sending a chill down his spine.

Maxilin's heart pounded as he bolted toward the sword, desperate to arm himself. But just as he neared it, his foot caught in the sand, sending him sprawling forward. He reached out, fingers straining to grasp the hilt of the sword, when suddenly, something cold and strong latched onto his leg.

"Leave me alone!" Maxilin yelled, panic surging through him as he tried to kick free from the unseen grip.

But then he heard it — the sound that made his blood run cold. A monstrous neighs, closer and more terrifying than before. It was the same creature, the one with those red, burning eyes. The force pulling at his leg grew stronger, dragging him closer to the fog's edge.

Ahhhhh!

A scream tore through the air, and Maxilin bolted upright in bed, his heart racing.

He was no longer on the beach but in his room, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. His chest heaved as he tried to steady himself, wiping the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. His tunic clung to his body, damp from the nightmarish ordeal.

Maxilin's breath came in short, sharp gasps as he stared at the flickering candle beside him. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls, but the nightmare still felt too close. He wiped the sweat from his face and pushed the sheet away, feeling the cool air on his skin as he sat down on the floor.

He grabbed the jug beside him and drank it all in one go, hoping the cold water would wash away the remnants of the dream. The taste was metallic, but it did the job, grounding him back in reality.

After a moment, Maxilin stood up and walked over to the window. He hesitated before moving the curtain aside, then opened the window to let in the night air. A cold, gentle breeze swept through the room, carrying the scent of pine and earth. The full moon hung high in the sky, its light bathing the world in a silver glow, making everything look ethereal and distant.

Maxilin leaned against the windowsill, staring at the moon. Was Uncle there to help me that night? He wondered. Maybe he was. But I have no idea how many days I've been sleeping.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his thoughts, then headed to the bathroom to take a cold bath. The chill of the water shocked his senses, but it was exactly what he needed. He yanked off his tunic and stared down at his chest, his eyes locking onto the mark that had haunted him for so long.

The mark had grown. Once a small, almost insignificant blemish, it now stretched across the entire left side of his chest, dark and ominous. Maxilin ran his fingers over it, feeling the strange texture under his skin, as if something was alive beneath the surface.

It started that night, Maxilin thought. The night I first saw a monster with my own eyes. If I had truly listened to my father that night, maybe none of this would have happened.

Maxilin's thoughts drifted back seventeen years, to a night that was forever etched in his memory. He was just a small boy then, no more than six years old, sitting on the floor of his dimly lit room. In his hands, he held a small wooden sword, a toy he had been tinkering with for hours. It was late, far past the time when he should have been asleep, but Maxilin didn't care. The house was quiet, with only the occasional creak of the floorboards or the soft rustle of the wind outside.

He lived with his father and uncle. His mother... well, that was a different story. She used to live with them, but then one day, she was just gone. Maxilin had heard whispers, overheard bits of conversation he wasn't meant to have, and pieced together that his mother had abandoned them. But he didn't believe it, not fully. His mother had always been kind, always made him his favorite meals, and told him stories every night before bed. How could someone like that just leave?

Whenever Maxilin asked his father about her, the answer was always the same: "Forget about her, Maxilin. She was a terrible person, and she never loved you."

But Maxilin remembered the warmth in her voice, the way she held him close, the stories she would spin that made the dark less frightening.

One day, he overheard his father talking in a low, strained voice. "She's gone, and she's not coming back. She abandoned us, Maxilin. Forever." The words had hit him like a blow, but even then, part of him refused to accept it. How could someone who made him feel so loved be gone forever?

That night, as he fiddled with his wooden sword, his father entered the room. The man's presence filled the space, making Maxilin feel small and vulnerable.

"Maxilin," his father called softly.

Maxilin looked up, his young eyes meeting the stern gaze of his father.

"Yes, father," he replied, his voice small.

Xavier, his father, sighed deeply.

"It's time to go to bed, boy."

"But, father," Maxilin murmured, rubbing his tired eyes with his small fists, "I want you to sleep with me tonight."

Xavier gave Maxilin a kind smile as he helped him to his feet.

"Alright, son. I'll sleep with you tonight," Xavier said warmly. Maxilin's face lit up, and he wrapped his small arms around his father's neck, holding on tightly as they made their way upstairs to the second floor.

Xavier gently placed Maxilin on the bed, then moved to shut the windows, his movements careful and deliberate. Maxilin watched him with wide eyes, curiosity bubbling up inside him.

"Father," he asked hesitantly, "why do you always close the windows when I go to sleep?"

Xavier paused for a moment, then smiled as he answered, "Because it's quite cold outside, son. You might catch a cold if the windows are open."

Maxilin frowned slightly, his young mind trying to make sense of it. "But, Father, Mother never did this when she slept with me," he said, his voice quiet and innocent.

Xavier froze at the mention of her. His smile faded, and his expression darkened. Slowly, he turned to look at Maxilin, his eyes hardening.

"Didn't I tell you not to talk about her at night, Maxilin?" he said, his tone stern.

"Your mother... she doesn't like you."

Maxilin's heart sank at his father's words. He looked down, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. "Father, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "If my words hurt you, I didn't mean to."

Xavier let out a long sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. He finished drawing the curtains, then sat down next to Maxilin on the bed.

"Maxilin," he began, placing a gentle hand on his son's small shoulder.

Maxilin looked up at his father, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and confusion.

Xavier offered a small, sad smile.

"Always remember, son, that there are two kinds of things in our world. One is good, and the other is bad. And your mother... she was one of the bad ones."

Maxilin blinked, trying to understand what his father was saying. The idea of his mother being bad didn't make sense to him. She had been kind, loving, and always there for him. How could someone like that be bad?