Mark of The Chosen - Chapters 1-5

A girl survivor of a mysterious sickness regarded as cursed is cast out in the cold

Mark of The Chosen

Chapter One

Tera stood shivering as a chill wind whipped strands of her flame-red hair across her face. The village elder watched her with a stern, weary expression as he prepared to pass judgment. Tera bowed her head, waiting for the words she dreaded. A year ago, her life had been unrecognisable. She had lived comfortably with her mother, sheltered from hardship. Then the sickness came. Everyone who caught it died — including her mother. Tera alone survived, but the illness left its mark. With no skills and no one willing to teach her, she quickly became a burden. Whispers spread that she was cursed. Eventually, she was thrown out of her home and forced to live on the streets. She stole food to survive. Now she stood accused not only of theft, but of setting fire to the barn she had been sleeping in.

The elder sighed. “Tera Litstar, it is bad enough you were caught stealing, but your carelessness nearly burned down Master Marn’s barn.”

“I didn’t start the fire,” Tera pleaded. “The farmer’s son fell asleep and—”

“Enough of your lies,” the elder snapped.

Tera scanned the crowd. At the back, the real culprit — the farmer’s son — smirked at her. No one else noticed. No one cared. The villagers shouted for her banishment. They blamed her for the sickness, for their misfortunes, for anything that went wrong. The elder hesitated; even he thought casting her out in midwinter was harsh. But the crowd’s fury left him no choice.

“Tera Litstar,” he declared, “you will leave this village now, and never return.” The words struck her as hammer blows. Seventeen years old, with nothing but flimsy clothes and a thin coat. She was being sent into the mountains to die. Stones flew as the villagers screamed at her to begone. One rock grazed her temple, drawing blood. Terrified, Tera fled until the village was far behind her. She collapsed to her knees, tears blurring her vision, blood and grief mingling on her hands as she sobbed into the snow.

For days, she wandered the forest, hunger gnawing at her, cold wearing her down. She ate insects, grubs, bitter berries that made her retch. At night, she curled beneath trees or bushes, shivering until dawn. Each day was worse than the last. When the heavy snow finally came, she could go no farther. She lay down, curling into a tight ball, welcoming the numbness creeping through her limbs. As her eyes drifted shut, she thought of her parents and hoped she would see them soon.
A faint light flickered within her — a glow like a tiny beacon.

Valen Jacomb jolted upright. Something tugged at his awareness — a spark, small but urgent. It flared brighter, then began to fade. He had to reach it before it vanished. He threw on his heavy coat, lit a lantern, and plunged into the storm. Snow thickened around him as he searched for what felt like hours. At last, he spotted a mound of snow with a faint glimmer beneath it. He brushed the snow aside and uncovered a girl barely clinging to life.

“By the seven hells,” he breathed.

Scooping her into his arms, he hurried back to his cabin. He laid her on his bed, wrapped her in every blanket he owned, lit the hearth, and placed a bedpan of hot water beneath the covers. Slowly, her lips lost their blue tint, colour returned to her cheeks, and her breathing steadied.

Tera woke warm — truly warm — for the first time in she didn’t know how long. She lay still, taking in her surroundings: a small bedroom, a cheerful fire, her clothes drying on a chair. Her shoes sat near the hearth. Alarmed, she checked beneath the blankets. She still wore her slip. Relief washed over her. The door opened. An elderly man with grey hair and a shaggy beard stepped inside. Tera clutched the blanket to her chest, eyes wide.

“You’re awake at last,” he said gently. “Be at peace, lass. I mean you no harm. I found you in the snow, near death. By the gods, what were you doing wandering the forest alone in winter?”

Tera broke. Sobs wracked her body, tears soaking the blanket. Everything she had endured crashed over her at once. Valen hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. When she finally calmed, she told him her story — the sickness, the suspicion, the banishment, and how she had been left to die in the snow.

Chapter Two

Valen chewed his bottom lip as he absorbed everything Tera had told him. At last, he spoke.

“So, Tera Litstar… that name is familiar. I believe I knew your parents. You say your mother died of the sickness. And your father?”

“Mother told me he died when I was a babe. I don’t remember him,” Tera said, pushing herself upright.

Valen bowed his head. “Aye. I met them years ago, before you were born. Good people.” He paused, considering her carefully. “Well, lass, don’t fret. I’ll look after you. You may call me uncle, if you wish.”

Tera blinked, startled. “Why? Why would you take me in?” Her lip trembled. She could not fathom such kindness from a stranger.

Valen studied her with a long, thoughtful look. “Let’s say I owed your parents a debt. Caring for you is how I repay it.” His gaze drifted to the back of her hand. “Tell me, child… how long have you had that mark?”

Tera lifted her hand, puzzled by the sudden shift. “I’m not sure. It appeared around the time the villagers began falling ill. They said it was the mark of my curse.”

Valen’s expression tightened, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “No curse,” he murmured. “That mark is what saved you.”

Tera’s mouth fell open. “Saved me? What do you mean?”

Valen muttered a soft curse. “Ignore the ramblings of an old man. You’re not cursed — that’s just ignorance and fear talking. How they could cast out a child in midwinter…” He shook his head.

Relief washed over Tera. “Thank you… uncle.”

He smiled gently. “Rest now. I’ll bring you hot broth later. There’s a chamber pot under the bed if you need it. Sleep, lass. You’ve earned it.”

When he left, Tera sagged back into the pillows, exhaustion pulling at her. She lifted her hand again, studying the mark she had never truly examined. Had it grown? At its centre lay a starburst, ringed by two conjoined circles. Two entwined lines trailed from it, curling toward her wrist. “It could be a flower,” she murmured, smiling faintly before sleep claimed her.

Valen checked on her once more, saw her sleeping soundly, and slipped outside into the snow. Standing still, he whispered archaic words. A shimmering portal opened before him. He stepped through into a vast hall of polished stone. Two women in white robes halted their conversation to look at him. Valen bowed.

“Greetings. I must see the Matriarch.”

Neither woman seemed surprised. They exchanged a glance before the taller one gestured. “She is in her chambers. This way, Valen Jacomb.”

They walked in silence through long corridors. Other white‑robed women paused to watch him pass. At last, they reached a pair of plain double doors. The woman knocked, then slipped inside, leaving Valen to wait.

The Matriarch looked up from her desk. Though older, her face was unlined, her deep blue eyes sharp beneath steel‑grey hair. Power and calm radiated from her. “What is it, Clara?”

“Valen Jacomb is here to see you, Matriarch.”

The Matriarch frowned. “Did he say why?”

Clara flushed. “No, Matriarch. I neglected to ask.” A small smile touched the Matriarch’s lips. “No matter. Send him in.” Clara ushered Valen inside and closed the door.

The Matriarch regarded him with a wry smile. “Valen, old friend. What brings you here in midwinter? It must be serious.”

Valen inclined his head. “Good to see you too, Meryel. I found a girl near death, cast out by her village. They believed she cursed them when an unknown sickness struck.”

“Nonsense,” Meryel said sharply. “Is she well now?”

“She is recovering. But you should be asking why they thought her cursed.”

Meryel’s expression shifted. “Ah. So that is not the true reason you’ve come. What is it?”

Valen drew a steadying breath. “She bears a special mark on her right hand. You know the one I mean.”

Silence stretched. Then Meryel bowed her head, thoughtful. “There have been others with the mark. None amounted to anything. Why do you believe this girl is different?”

Valen told her everything — the sickness, the villagers’ fear, Tera’s survival, the mark, and how he found her glowing beneath the snow. Meryel listened without interruption, her face growing more grave.

When he finished, she nodded slowly. “You may be right. Bring the girl here at once.”

Valen hesitated. “Not yet. She is traumatised and trusts no one. I’ve gained a little trust. Anyone else would overwhelm her. She is too young to show ability yet. I promise I will bring her when the time comes.”

Meryel looked doubtful, then relented. “Very well. I will trust you — for now. But if she shows any sign, you must bring her immediately. It could be dangerous for her… and for you. You aren’t getting any younger.”

Valen chuckled softly. “I know the risks. And I owe her parents a debt long overdue.”

Meryel waved a hand in dismissal. “What is the girl’s name?”

“Tera Litstar,” Valen said, and took his leave.

Chapter Three

Over the following weeks and months, Valen taught Tera everything the villagers never had the patience or kindness to show her. Where they had offered only suspicion and cold shoulders, Valen offered steady guidance. He taught her to cook, mend, gather, and survive. Once she could fend for herself, he moved on to harder lessons. He taught her to hunt with a bow, to read the signs of animals, to follow the trails of both beast and man, and to sense danger before it revealed itself. Tera excelled. Her arrows never missed. When hunting deer, she always struck the heart. Valen questioned her about it once, uneasy at the precision.

Tera had only shrugged. “I can feel it,” she said. “The heartbeat. I can picture it. I don’t know how… I just can.”

Valen had no answer. A part of him wondered if this was the sign he had been waiting for. The sign that he should send her to the Stone Tower. But he hesitated. She was still young. Still healing. And he was not ready to lose her. Years passed. Tera grew tall, confident, and sure‑footed, a young woman with a quiet strength. Valen was certain Meryel had stationed someone nearby to watch them. He could sense the presence in the woods, and he suspected Tera sensed it too. She never mentioned it. She was waiting for him to speak first. A few months after Tera’s twenty‑first birthday, Valen was outside chopping wood. Winter crept closer each day, and he wanted a good stockpile before the snows came. The morning air was crisp, mist curling between the trees. Valen fell into an easy rhythm, sweat beading on his brow. For a moment, he felt utterly at peace.

Then Tera screamed.

Valen dropped the axe and sprinted toward the house. She should have been just waking — it was still early. But what he found froze him in place. Tera hovered in mid‑air, still in her nightgown, arms outstretched, suspended in a halo of light. Her face was a mixture of terror and confusion.

Valen fell to his knees. The moment he had dreaded — and expected — had come. She would have to leave him. And he did not know if he would ever see her again. But first, he had to calm her.

“What’s happening to me, uncle?” she sobbed, eyes pleading, breaking his heart.

He forced himself to breathe. “Easy, Tera. Nothing bad is happening. Breathe in and out slowly. Deep breaths. Focus like you do when hunting — but this time, sense your own heartbeat.”

Tera closed her eyes. She listened inward, felt the blood pulsing through her veins, the steady rhythm grounding her. Calm washed over her.

“That’s it,” Valen said softly. “Now will yourself down.”

The light dimmed. Tera dropped to the floor with a thump, startled but unharmed.

“Not bad for your first attempt,” Valen said, trying to sound light.

Tera glared at him. “What am I, uncle? A freak? A witch? A sorceress? That’s it. And you knew. You knew all along.”

Valen flinched. “I didn’t know for certain. I only suspected you might have an affinity for magic.” He could not tell her the whole truth — not yet. She would learn it soon enough, but not from him. The weight of her destiny was too much for him to speak aloud. She was meant to be the vessel that would save the world from the Dark One. He had been blessed to guide her this far. She was like a daughter to him. And the thought of losing her hollowed him out.

“I’m sorry,” Tera whispered. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”

Valen’s gaze drifted to her right arm. The mark glowed faintly. “Tera, you are like a real daughter to me. You know that, don’t you?”

Tera frowned, touched. “Of course I do. And I love you too. But… what aren’t you telling me?”

Valen sighed. She was too perceptive. “Listen, Tera. Yes, I knew your magic would manifest one day. And now that it has, you need proper training. “

You can train me,” she insisted. “I know you’re a sorcerer. I’m not stupid.”

Valen shook his head. “You’re not stupid — you’re intuitive. But I can’t train you. Not here. Not anywhere. Your abilities require specialists.”

Tera narrowed her eyes. “Where? And who?”

Valen hesitated, then spoke. “The Stone Tower.”

Tera blinked. “Where, the seeresses live?”

He nodded. “They are far better equipped to teach someone like you. Your power will surpass mine — and it could endanger us both if I try to train you alone.”

“So, I have to leave,” she murmured. “Will you visit me?”

Valen’s throat tightened. Tears threatened. “Of course. I’ll visit often. But you must study hard, or I’ll be very displeased.” He wagged a finger at her, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

Tera managed a small smile. “When do we leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“So soon…” she whispered. She looked around the home she had known for years — and felt the world shift beneath her feet. One life was ending. Another was beginning.

Chapter Four

Valen sighed heavily as he stood before the Matriarch. “Has she settled in all right?”

“Yes,” Meryel replied. “She is fine. You may visit her if you wish — but not for long.” She paused, her expression softening. “You were fond of her, weren’t you? More
than a mentor?”

Valen nodded slowly. “She was like a daughter to me. And I know you had someone watching her while she was in my care.”

“It wasn’t a matter of trust,” the Matriarch said gently. “You know how it is.”

Valen nodded again, accepting the truth without argument. “I doubt I’ll be able to come often anyway,” Valen murmured. “Thank you, Meryel, for letting me see her. Take good care of her.”

Tera’s new room was small but warm, with a narrow bed, a writing desk, and a window overlooking the city. Valen looked around, satisfied she would be comfortable here. Tera met his gaze, blinking back tears. She forced a smile. “You will visit me often… won’t you, uncle?”

Valen brushed a tear from her cheek. “As often as I can, child.” He sighed. “Study hard. Do as the Matriarch says. And don’t cause trouble.”

Tera sniffed, then threw her arms around him. “I promise, uncle. I’ll study hard. I’ll make you proud.”

Valen held her tightly, then gently let go, squeezing her hand one last time. “I’ll let you settle in. I’ll visit soon.” He left with a forced smile, but inside, his heart felt torn in two. He prayed he had done right by her.

Time passed. Tera studied diligently, memorising every spell she was taught — but when it came to casting them, she struggled. Three other students trained alongside her. Two surpassed her quickly and made no effort to hide their disdain. The third, Kira, progressed at the same pace as Tera, and the two became close friends. Still, frustration gnawed at Tera. She knew the theory of every spell, but her magic sputtered or fizzled when she tried to use it. Even Kira eventually overtook her. One day, overwhelmed, Tera approached the Matriarch.

“Maybe I’m not meant to be a spellcaster,” she said quietly.

The Matriarch regarded her with an unreadable expression. “Have patience, child. Everyone learns in their own time. You will one day discover that you are greater than any student now or before you.”

The words puzzled Tera. It felt as though the Matriarch knew something she would not say. Still confused, Tera returned to her studies. Valen visited her a few times, though never for long. When she confided her frustrations, he gave the same answer: “Patience.”

Tera wanted to scream.

At the beginning of her second year, a deep, resonant bell rang out across the city. Everything stopped. A teacher hurried through the hallways, ordering all students to return to their rooms and remain there until further notice. “What’s going on?” Tera asked Kira as they walked quickly down the corridor.

Kira shook her head, worry creasing her brow. “I don’t know. But it sounds serious.”

“Don’t you know what that was?” one of the other students said breathlessly as she rushed past. “The city is under attack.” Tera and Kira hurried down the corridor, the echo of the warning bell still ringing through the Tower. Students rushed past them in panic, some crying, others frozen in fear. When they reached Tera’s room, Kira shut the door behind them with shaking hands.

“What is happening?” Kira whispered.

Tera moved to the window. Smoke curled above the rooftops. She could hear shouting, steel clashing, the distant roar of battle. “We need to see,” Tera said. “Come on. Let’s go to the lookout.”

Kira hesitated. “Are we allowed?”

“Do you think anyone is checking right now?” Tera grabbed her arm. “Come on.”

They climbed the spiralling stairs to the top of the Stone Tower. The wind hit them first — cold, sharp, carrying the smell of fire. Then the view opened before them. The city walls were breached. A vast barbarian army surged through the gap, their war cries echoing across the stone. Seeresses fought alongside city guards, their spells flashing like lightning, but the enemy numbers were overwhelming. The horde moved with terrifying purpose — straight toward the Stone Tower.

Kira gasped. “They’re coming here.”

Tera’s stomach twisted. She could see the barbarian leader — a towering figure with a massive axe — cutting down defenders with brutal efficiency. The defenders were falling back. The Tower was their next target. Tera stepped back from the parapet, mind racing. “Kira… stay here.”

“What? No! Tera—”

“I’m going to help.” Tera’s voice was steady, though her hands trembled. “I can shoot from the rooftops. I can slow them down.”
“You’ll be killed!”

“Better me than all of us.” Tera grabbed Kira’s shoulders. “Please. Stay here. Lock the door. Don’t follow me.”

Kira’s eyes filled with tears. “Tera…”

Tera forced a smile. “I’ll be back.”

She turned and ran down the stairs before Kira could argue. Her heart hammered as she reached her room, snatched up her bow and quiver, and sprinted through the lower halls. The Tower was chaos — seeresses rushing to defend the gates, novices crying, teachers shouting orders. No one noticed her slip out the side entrance. The city streets were filled with smoke and screams. Tera kept low, darting between alleys, avoiding the main roads where the fighting was thickest. She needed height — somewhere she could see the battlefield clearly. The Temple of Dawn. “She sprinted toward it, dodging debris and fallen guards. When she reached the temple steps, she climbed them two at a time and pushed through the heavy doors. The interior was empty, abandoned in the panic. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting fractured colours across the floor. Tera didn’t stop. She found the narrow staircase behind the altar and climbed until her legs burned. At the top, she pushed open a hatch and emerged onto the temple roof. The view stole her breath. The barbarian horde was almost at the Tower. Tera nocked an arrow. Her first shot struck a warrior in the throat. Her second pierced another’s heart. Her third dropped a man mid charge. She moved like she was hunting deer — calm, focused, deadly. Every arrow found its mark. Every shot bought precious seconds for the defenders. But the horde kept coming. Her quiver grew lighter. Her arms trembled. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Finally, she reached back and found nothing.

No arrows left. “No… no, no—” A whisper brushed her ear.

“Child…” Tera spun, bow raised, scanning the rooftop. No one. The whisper came again, inside her mind this time. “Do not fear.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Who’s there?”

The voice grew stronger, warmer, ancient. “You are not alone.” Tera staggered back. “Stop—stop talking—”

“Let me in.” Her mark burned like fire. Light flickered beneath her skin. Tera dropped her bow, clutching her hand. “What’s happening to me?”
The voice became insistent. “You cannot face this alone. Let me help.”

Tera shook her head, terrified. “No—no, I don’t understand—” The light exploded.

Her feet lifted from the stone. Her hair rose around her like flame. Her eyes glowed with unearthly light. A blinding radiance surrounded her. From that blinding core, bolts of pure energy erupted in every direction, lancing across the battlefield like lightning given purpose. Each bolt struck an enemy, but they didn’t fall — they were erased, their forms dissolving into nothing the instant the energy touched them. The barbarian leader staggered back, shielding his face, but to no avail. His outline flared, then vanished into drifting motes. Then darkness claimed her.

Warmth. Soft light. A distant ringing in her ears. Tera blinked awake. She lay in her own bed in the Stone Tower, though she had no memory of being brought there. Her limbs felt heavy, her breath shallow. The room was dim, lit only by a few candles, and filled with white robed seeresses kneeling around her. At their head stood the Matriarch.

Her expression was one of awe. “Tera,” she whispered. Goddess.”

Tera’s heart lurched. She pushed herself upright, dizzy. “Goddess? Matriarch, I don’t… I don’t understand.”

The Matriarch stepped closer, bowing her head. “We witnessed the light. You saved the city. Only the Goddess of Dawn could wield such power.”

Tera shook her head, panic rising. “No. I’m not— I don’t know what happened. I was on the temple roof, and then—then everything went white. I don’t remember anything after that.”

The Matriarch’s eyes softened with pity. “It is common for the Vessel to be consumed when the goddess takes hold.”

Tera froze. Consumed. Disappear. Be replaced.

Her breath quickened. “Matriarch, I’m still me.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest. A voice — gentle, ancient, unmistakably not her own — whispered inside her mind. “Do not fear, child.” Tera gasped, clutching the sheets.

The Matriarch stepped back, eyes widening. “She speaks.”

The warmth grew, filling Tera’s limbs, her throat, her breath. She felt herself drifting — not away, but aside, as if making room for someone else. Her lips moved. But the voice that came out was not hers.

Chapter Five

It was older. Calmer. Radiant. “Matriarch.” Every seeress in the room bowed instantly. The voice continued, flowing through Tera like sunlight through glass. “Do not mistake what has happened. This Vessel has not been consumed. She remains.”

The Matriarch lifted her head, stunned. “But… that has never happened before.”

Tera felt the goddess smile — not with lips, but with presence. “This time is different.” The goddess’s voice softened, almost affectionate. “We are joined. Two souls. Two wills. One purpose.”

Tera felt tears sting her eyes — her own, not the goddess’s. The Matriarch sank to her knees. “Then… the prophecy has changed.”

The goddess spoke one final time, her tone like dawn breaking over the horizon. “The old cycle is broken. The girl remains. And together… we will not fail.” The warmth receded. Tera inhaled sharply, fully herself again — trembling, overwhelmed, but present. The room was silent. The world had changed. And Tera knew nothing would ever be the same. The next morning, Kira stood outside Tera’s room.

Kira’s voice was already raised when Tera woke. “You can’t keep me out! She is my friend. I need to see her.” Two seeresses blocked the doorway, firm but uneasy.

“Kira, you must wait. The Matriarch—

“I don’t care! Let me see her!”

Tera pushed herself upright, dizzy but alert. “Kira…?”

The seeresses turned. “Tera, you must rest. She cannot—”

“Let her in,” Tera said.

“Child, this is not—”

“I said let her in.” Something in her tone — or the faint glow that grew brighter around her — made them step aside. Kira rushed in at once, eyes wide. “Tera! I thought— I thought you were gone.”

Tera managed a small, tired smile. “I’m still here.” And deep inside, the goddess murmured. “She is a loyal friend.”Tera nodded in answer, embracing her friend.