Chapter 7: The Mark of Destiny

Aria’s dreams were no longer her own.

She found herself standing in a lush meadow under a blood-red sky. The air was thick with the scent of roses and iron. The distant hum of voices whispered her name, pulling her forward. She wasn’t alone.

In the distance, a figure waited. His back was to her, but she recognized him instantly—Lucian. His silhouette was etched into her mind, yet something about him felt different here. He turned slowly, his silver eyes soft with an emotion she couldn’t name.

“Aria,” he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.

Before she could respond, the ground beneath them cracked, and flames erupted from the earth. The meadow dissolved into a battlefield. Blood soaked the ground, and screams filled the air. Aria’s chest burned as if something inside her was trying to claw its way out.

Her gaze snapped to Lucian, now kneeling, blood dripping from his hands. His eyes, once filled with tenderness, now brimmed with anguish.

“You have to remember,” he said, his voice desperate. “It’s the only way to stop this.”

The flames consumed everything, pulling her under.

---

Aria woke with a gasp, her body drenched in sweat. She clutched her chest, the burning sensation still lingering. Her birthmark throbbed painfully, glowing faintly in the darkness of her room.

The dream was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It wasn’t just vivid—it felt real, as though it were a memory rather than a figment of her imagination. But how could that be possible?

She stumbled out of bed, her legs shaky as she splashed cold water on her face. The reflection in the cracked mirror showed her pale face, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“What’s happening to me?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

---

Lucian found her before dawn, standing at the edge of the lake where the first hints of light began to streak the sky.

“You’re awake early,” he remarked, his tone casual, though his eyes were sharp as they studied her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, not looking at him. “Or maybe I should say I couldn’t stop dreaming.”

Lucian’s expression darkened. “What did you see?”

Aria hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Fragments. A battlefield. You were there… but it wasn’t you. Not exactly. And my birthmark—it burned, like it was trying to tell me something.”

Lucian exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. “The mark is tied to the Crimson Heart. It reacts to the prophecy, to the power within you. The dreams… they’re memories, Aria. Pieces of a past life.”

Her head snapped toward him. “A past life? That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Lucian challenged, stepping closer. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The connection between us? The way your birthmark reacts to the Blood Moon, to Evangeline’s presence? It’s all connected.”

Aria opened her mouth to argue but found she couldn’t. The dream had felt too real to dismiss.

“Why me?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why am I tied to this… prophecy?”

Lucian’s gaze softened. “Because you’re the Crimson Fated, Aria. The prophecy speaks of a soul bound by love and tragedy, destined to either unite our worlds or tear them apart. The Crimson Heart is the key, and you’re the only one who can wield its power.”

She took a step back, her mind reeling. “No. That can’t be true. I’m just… me. A hunter. I can’t be the answer to some ancient prophecy.”

Lucian’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “Neither could I. And yet here we are.”

---

Later that day, Lucian took her to an underground chamber hidden beneath the sanctuary. The air was cold and heavy, the walls lined with carvings depicting scenes of battle, love, and betrayal. At the center of the room stood a pedestal, empty save for a faint glow emanating from its surface.

“This is where the Crimson Heart once rested,” Lucian explained, his voice reverent. “It’s a relic of immense power, capable of granting infinite strength or breaking even the oldest of curses. Evangeline seeks it to tip the balance of power in her favor. But it’s more than that.”

Aria’s gaze remained fixed on the glowing pedestal. “More?”

“It’s also a curse,” Lucian said, his voice tinged with pain. “The Heart binds two souls, tethering them across lifetimes. If one dies, the other is condemned to live on, waiting for their paths to cross again. That’s what ties you and me, Aria.”

Her heart raced as his words sank in. “You’re saying… we’ve met before? In another life?”

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer. “And in every life, we’ve been drawn together by fate and torn apart by tragedy.”

Aria’s breath hitched. The dream, the burning mark, the unshakable pull she felt toward Lucian—it all began to make a terrible kind of sense.

---

As they left the chamber, the weight of her newfound knowledge settled heavily on Aria’s shoulders. She wasn’t just a hunter anymore. She was the Crimson Fated, bound by a destiny she couldn’t escape.

But one question lingered in her mind, a question she couldn’t bring herself to ask: If fate had always torn them apart, could she change the ending this time?

The thought haunted her as the shadows of the past loomed ever closer, threatening to consume them both.