Zayne ignored the waitress’s uncomfortable stare as she took his order, laying his head back against the plush seat as he stared out through the windows unveiling the city. She hurried away as soon as she could, and he sighed bitterly, touching the red emblem emblazoned upon his neck. His Brand.

  It had only been two weeks, and already he had lost the little that he had. Even though both the Great Houses outlawed discrimination against those that possessed a Brand, no-one wanted to be infected by the bad luck that lingered around him like a plague. So, a horrible job released him, his landlady closed the door, and here he was. A random homeless kid intent on wasting the last of his money in a below-average restaurant.

  Scrawl of Flaws. He muttered the peculiar clue to his demise in his head, still perplexed.

  Roughly a few decades ago, the heroes of the five Great Houses had embarked on the final quest to close the Rift in which the Severspawn had emerged. They were the strongest humanity had to offer, Looms that wielded powerful Virtues trained and tempered by constant battle. And in exactly six months, some of the heroes returned, claiming victory. And that was how everything in the world went to shit.

  First of all, the heroes from two Houses had completely vanished, and it didn’t take long to find out what had happened to them. Soon the world found itself besieged under a new threat, those birthed from the corruption of humanity itself. The ones that had returned rallied their remaining forces, and were given the title of Dawnforged, plunging the entire planet into the largest war that they had ever seen. The Two Houses without leaders were left splintered, while governments across every country were left to pick up the pieces.

  There were plenty of speculation and theories, but what exactly happened inside the Rift was still a mystery that their great benevolent leaders didn’t see fit to explain.

  None of that, even though it had been mildly interesting to see how the schools had spun a pretty dark story into an uplifting story of justice, was what ruined him. Instead, as soon as the Dawnforged returned, a small number of the population started coming down with a strange disease. Some sort of mark, coating their necks, or even their faces, with a few words lodged into their heads. There was no explanation for it, but the Dawnforged soon ordered for any trace to be immediately found and registered.

  These were the Branded, and almost all of them died a gruesome death. The few that survived ended up facing some other fate, probably worse than death.

  Worst of all, they were given some sort of cryptic clue that linked to how they would suffer.

  Zayne’s happened to be the most cryptic of all. Like, seriously? Scrawl of Flaws sounded like some bad written essay title than an essential piece of his death. What was supposed to mean? Was his crimes going to be scrawled onto a piece of paper before he got publicly executed? Well, he didn’t know or care anymore.

  The waitress returned, carrying a small tray, with the bill clutched in her hands. She didn’t meet his eye as she placed the food onto the table.

  “You know you won’t get bad luck if you get close to me right?” he asked, genuinely annoyed, “It’s not dark Magik or anything. The government debunked that conspiracy theory ages ago.”

  A pair of doleful eyes slowly raised to meet his own, finally taking in his appearance. And truly, Zayne wasn’t much to look at. He had brown hair and olive skin, although at the moment it was green enough to make him look sick, and was skinny enough to the point that he looked starved. And to be fair, it wasn’t like he had been eating particularly well after he received the Brand. In fact, he was almost all green, complimented by seaweed-coloured eyes that had black rings around them from a lack of sleep.

  “I just… don’t know!” she yelled the last part loud enough to make him clasp at his ears, running away as if he were some sort of phantom out to stalk her dreams.

  “Does that mean the food is free?” Zayne called out.

  He received no response. Frankly, he didn’t care less. Free food is free food. Without wasting any time, Zayne dug in. Even though he had only asked for the cheapest thing he could afford, the warm meal was like ambrosia to his hungry stomach. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed such food. For a moment, he let his worries fade.

  But all good things had to come to an end. Zayne rose from his chair, feeling all eyes draw onto him once again. Tempted to just leave, he pulled out his Q-Card from his pocket and tapped the register of his abandoned bill like a good citizen. There was a good chance that they would just disregard his flippant freebie, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Though he did pause to focus a dark look into the annoying young woman whispering to her colleagues. With a small smirk on his face, he made wavy hand gestures as if he were casting black Magik. He watched the blood drain from her face, running away with a yelp, and his lips widened.

  It soon died away as he stepped outside.

  Making his way through the carefully drawn city, the tall buildings mingled amongst poor blocks of flimsy apartments barely drew his attention. Outside was a lot better, because he could pull his hoodie over the Brand, but his shabby clothes and flimsy bag slung around his shoulder still drew the ire from a few commuting to work, since it did nothing against the bitter winter knife raking through the air. The House of Azure was not a particularly generous one when it came to the homeless, and the reflection in their attitude showed.

  Now where would he go now?

  He had left in a pretty good mood considering his terrible situation, but had no idea he wanted to do anymore. There was no point moping around and wasting the rest of his life away, however short it was. Walking aimlessly, Zayne reflected on everything he had done so far. The one thing that he had briefly entertained as a goal to chase after was a stupid one, made even more dumb now that he was Branded. Eh, the world already had enough revenge stories anyways. He had binged enough of those for a lifetime.

  Leaving the city was another option. There were ways to try sneak into another stronghold, but honestly, Zayne wasn’t bothered. It was too much work, and what good did it do him? Running away wouldn’t get rid of the mark on his ID, which he needed if he wanted to buy anything legally.

  It all just felt so stupidly, ridiculously unfair. Like the world just expected him to lie down and die, because he had outlived his usefulness. Even if he tried to act the right way, do everything they expected him to, there was nothing he could do anymore. The sobering helplessness of his reality frustrated him more than he was willing to admit.

  Zayne turned his head, and recoiled. Somehow he had meandered all the way next to the temple gates. A bitter light lit up his face as he glared at the sculptures of the Celestials, roofed in precious metals, where a straggle of mindless people hung, heads clasped as if it would bring them justice. Religion had mostly died, yet the few devout still demanded belief. Did none of these fools realise how useless their cries were? Instead of actually trying to do something, they took the easy way out. Embrace themselves in the hope of some mighty spirit, watching from above, that would save their souls and bring them eternal happiness.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  If only there was something he could actually do, anything, to just change his standing. He wanted to do more than just survive! Urgh.

  He was getting too worked up. It was time to get away, before someone misinterpreted his dark gaze. Blasphemy was not something he wanted to be accused of.

  In that moment however, a strange compulsion washed over him.

  The Tapestry carved and watched every fate, every move, painted upon the fathomless waters. But for the first time in a millennia, the smallest error was pushed. In a feat that sent shivers through the paint of life itself, a flaw manifested, brushing a dark, ugly streak that scraped its mark.He found himself focused on the temple gates for a few seconds longer than he intended, before breaking free of his reverie. Sighing, Zayne continued down the sloping sidewalk, ready to give up.

  But as soon as he turned the corner, a mouthful of ginger hair collided into him at full force. His vision cracked. The air left his body, pain exploding against the side of his arm as he tumbled in a bone-clacking thwack against hard concrete. Zayne groaned, rolling on the floor while his pale skin purpled from the impact. The attacker landed on top of him, a warm thump that pressed against his chest before she rolled off in a clumsy yelp.

  “Oh, holy gods, I… I’m so sorry.” he dimly heard a horrified voice mutter, as she looked down at her victim’s poor state, “No, no, no! Damn it! I’m going to be late!”

  He felt the blurry haze of his throbbing forehead clear, allowing him to see the young woman standing above him. The scrunchie binding her hair had been knocked loose, allowing the wind to playfully sweep her hair into a wild tangle. She was tall, probably taller than him, wearing formal red and gold uniform with the crest of Azure emblazoned at the front. Piercing, worried eyes bored into his own, ignoring the state of her clothes as she knelt down and offered him a hand, patting his shoulder. Even in his half-conscious delirium, he had to admit that she looked rather pretty. That didn’t spare her from the anger he felt as he tried to move, only for his weak muscles to rebel. Are you kidding me? He was so weak that he could barely move after a fall! His cheeks blared, emotion pouring out in stumbling movements.

  “Are you alright? Ah, emergency! Wait no, you don’t have a red ticket, do you? Here, take this!”

  The noise of commotion had alerted her, as he saw clots of people gathering in the corner of his eye. A friendly voice stepped in.

  “Miss, don’t worry, we’ll take care of him. You should get going.” he heard the next voice dripping with the oily false reverence granted to the Chosen, “If you could just…”

  “Oh, don’t worry!” she pulled out something from her bag, “Now if you could just open your mouth for me, please.”She sounded pleading, as if she was the one being embarrassed. Humiliated, Zayne allowed the herbal concoction to enter his mouth, and felt the worst of his bruises heat with a roaring twist. He bit down a scream, as everything, even his internal organs, felt like they were boiling. After what must have been only a second, he prepared to leap up and strangle her. Or at least shout his heart off.

  He couldn’t believe this. Assaulted publicly by one of the things he hated the most, right when he was feeling depressed, who looked the same age as him! Looks like the Celestials heard my curses. Then a pulse rang through him. A distinct feeling, one that had been stained into his mind since he was seven years old, rang like a bell through his healed spine.

  His mind froze. A magical artefact. Of course, one of the Chosen, the elite of the recruits that had kindled their Strands and were about to join the rank of the Loom, would have one. Everything he felt before evaporated, the alluring nature of greed possessing his every movement. A single rank one could sell for ten thousand credits. With his spare hand, he carefully swept the metal item into his pockets, and leapt to his feet.

  Zayne still wasn’t going to let her off that easy.

  “What the hell?” he hissed furiously, ignoring the judging frowns of her ardent worshippers, “I get you’re in a rush, but you are a Chosen, right? How are you gonna defend justice, if you run into random people? Imagine if I was a child that ran ahead of her mum or something.”He had a rare talent of finding the best words to make someone feel guilty. His only talent when it came down to conversation.

  The young woman reddened, bowing her head in what looked like an archaic form of apology. He could see the visible self-loathing trapped behind her features, and couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for her. Not enough to give back the artefact he dropped, of course.

  “I understand. I’m just really late, and I don’t want to get my instructor mad at me on the first day. Please…”Genuine tears started welling up in her eyes, surprising all of them. Zayne was completely taken off guard, off-put by the Chosen’s display. Maybe I went a little too far.

  It was only then that she noticed the red mark that was now fully exposed. Zayne didn’t bother to cover it, although he cursed himself in his head for that mistake. Her pupils widened. Whispers flared around them. The friendly voice, belonging to a large man, looked like he was about to step in again. Feeling an uneasy flicker, he fell back.

  “You know what, it’s fine, you can go.” he hastily said, before spinning around and darting through a narrow gap back up the temple.

  “Wait-”

  Zayne barely made it halfway before he started panting, checking to make sure the crowd had dispersed, and that she had left. The healing must have leeched his stamina, because no matter how weak he was, he was good at running.

  Being called a coward was basically the same thing as being called smart.

  It looked like the Chosen had left, but a healthy dose of paranoia was probably the best move. He snuck through the labyrinth built in between each and every building within the complex of shops housed within this part of the city, ignoring the foul stench as he arrived in a completely different spot. The smell was so bad, and the place so often checked, that the only people that used the route were the poor that couldn’t afford a taxi. Two weeks of being homeless had taught him that much, at least.

  Zayne stopped near a fashion boutique, clutching at his knees as he sank against a clean metal railing, hardly believing exactly what happened there. A fierce smile broke out, chuckling to himself like a madman.

  Now that’s what you call making the best out of a bad situation. Even though his skin felt raw, as if it had been flayed alive, he had suffered worse. And…

  He dug the humming artefact out of his pocket, ready to examine the treasure that he managed to get his hands on. Even though the young woman had seemed stupid, she had to be pretty valuable to be entrusted with anything like this. No doubt she would be scolded out of her mind.

  And once that happened, they would definitely come after him. All good things had its downsides, after all. Zayne tried to push that out of his mind, twirling the item in his hands.

  It was a key. A black, shifting key that felt like a beating heart. As soon as he got a good look at it, two things happened. His own heart froze as he realised what it was, and he felt an indescribable urge spill through his very being.

  How. Why. Who the hell was she?

  What he held in his hand, looked exactly like an Inheritance. A connection to the Loom of thousands of years ago, of which there were only three known to existence. Every single one of the people that got their hands on one went on to become legends in their own right. Lady Iskaria Azure, the ruler of Azure, was one of them. It had to be a fake. Maybe they were trying to make a copy of one, and the clumsy girl got her hands on it by accident.

  So many explanations came to his mind, but none made sense. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sell this. Any trace of an inheritance was hunted down by the Executive Branch, the Loom that watched and ‘protected’ the territory of Azure. To summarise, he was screwed. This was either a faulty magical copy, or something so valuable that he would be killed for holding it, and either way there was no free money for him. Zayne looked up at the sky, wondering if he was being laughed at.

  “Are you kidding me?” he mumbled, clenching his fists.

  There was only one thing he could do with this. And he could feel the urge grow the more he held it. Zayne looked down closely at the thing in his hand, genuine consideration flashing across his eyes, in defiance of the voice yelling in his head to throw it away.

  Common sense told him that it was the worst thing he could do. The trials inside one of these had been turned into video games, movies, all of which show the miserable impossibility of what the three had conquered. And each one of those three were already at least Nascent before they tried to do something this crazy.

  But even the slightest reward could change everything. The images of what could happen if he succeed were too vast for him to comprehend. He could become the first ever Branded to join the ranks of the Loom!

  He had just complained about his lack of opportunities, and it appeared someone had heard his thoughts. Which was genuinely a little creepy, but he tried not to focus on that.

  Zayne still felt nervous caution bind him in place. Self-preservation lectured him about how much of a fool he had to be to die like this.

  But his current life wasn’t worth living.

  He stifled his fear with a crazy grin, and nearly decided to run into the street and shout as loud as he could before he disappeared.

  But common sense could at least stop him from doing that much.

  Responding to the call of the key, Zayne forgot everything and let the sensation engulf his senses.

  Behind him, he heard a cry.

  “Shit, he’s using it! Stop him!”

  He caught a glimpse of the three coats of armour flashing in his direction before everything faded and warped. The key shimmered in his hand, exploding into fragments of brilliant light. The handsome man leading the charge raised his hand, a binding force flying forth, but it was far too late.

  The next thing Zayne knew, he lay flat on his back in a rank, dirty cell.