The Thorncroft estate always seemed alive to Eleanor and Lena’s mother, Isolde. Its creaking beams and whispering drafts carried secrets through the halls, reminders of its ancient foundation. Tonight, however, the estate was silent—a silence Isolde knew too well. It was the kind of quiet that pressed against the ears, an oppressive weight born of anticipation.

She stood by the library’s tall window, her silhouette framed against the moonlight filtering through the frost-laced panes. In her hands was an aged tome, its leather binding cracked and its pages brittle with time. The symbols etched into its margins—twisting, incomprehensible shapes—seemed to shimmer faintly under her gaze.

“It’s worse than I feared,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the cavernous room. The Codex Umbra had revealed fragments of the truth, enough to confirm her suspicions but not enough to forge a clear path forward. The Mark—its origins, its purpose—was tied to the Obelisk. But why it chose certain individuals, why it left others untouched, remained maddeningly elusive.

Behind her, a soft creak broke the stillness. Isolde turned to see Lena standing in the doorway, her auburn hair disheveled and her hazel eyes wide with curiosity and fear.

“Mother?” Lena’s voice was tentative, her small hands clutching the edge of the doorframe. “Why are you up so late?”

Isolde smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She placed the tome on the desk and knelt to Lena’s height. “I couldn’t sleep, my love. There’s much on my mind.”

Lena hesitated before stepping into the room, her bare feet making no sound on the cold wooden floor. “Are you working on your research again?”

“Yes,” Isolde admitted. She reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind Lena’s ear. “Do you remember what I told you about the Obelisk?”

Lena nodded slowly. “You said it’s very old, older than the town. And that we should be careful.”

“That’s right,” Isolde said. “But it’s more than just old. It’s dangerous. It has… power. Power that we don’t fully understand yet.”

Lena’s brow furrowed. “Is that why you’re always worried about Eleanor? Because she’s near it so much?”

Isolde’s smile faltered. She stood, turning back to the window as she considered her answer. “Your sister is… special. She’s always been drawn to the unknown, to questions others wouldn’t dare ask. That curiosity is a gift, but it can also be a burden.”

“Like the Mark?” Lena asked quietly.

Isolde stiffened. “How do you know about the Mark?”

Lena shuffled her feet, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “I heard you and Father talking about it. You said it’s why we had to leave the city.”

Isolde closed her eyes briefly, a pang of guilt twisting in her chest. “Yes,” she said at last. “The Mark is part of why we came to Blackthorn. It’s connected to the Obelisk, to the things I’ve been studying. And to us.”

“To us?” Lena’s voice rose slightly, her fear evident.

“It’s in our blood,” Isolde said, turning to face her daughter. “Our family has always been tied to the Obelisk, though we don’t fully understand why. Some of us are chosen by the Mark. It… changes people, Lena. Sometimes for the better, but often…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Lena’s hands curled into fists. “Then why are you letting Eleanor go near it? If it’s so dangerous, why don’t we leave?”

“Because running doesn’t change what we are,” Isolde said firmly. “The Mark will follow us, no matter where we go. And Eleanor… she has a role to play in this, whether we want her to or not.”

Lena’s eyes filled with tears. “But I don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t want to lose her.”

Isolde knelt again, taking Lena’s hands in hers. “I know, my love. I don’t want to lose her either. That’s why I’m working so hard to understand this. So that when the time comes, we can protect her. Protect all of us.”

Lena sniffled, nodding reluctantly. “Promise me you’ll keep her safe.”

Isolde hesitated. It was a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep, but she couldn’t bear to see the fear in Lena’s eyes. “I promise,” she said softly, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace.

As Lena’s breathing evened out and her tears subsided, Isolde glanced back at the Codex Umbra. The shimmering symbols seemed to mock her, their meaning tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach. She would keep her promise to Lena—or die trying.

Later that night, as the house lay in silence once more, Isolde returned to the library. She couldn’t afford to waste time, not with the Mark spreading and the Obelisk’s influence growing stronger. The Codex spoke of a “Harbinger” and a “Hollow One,” terms that sent chills down her spine. If her suspicions were correct, Eleanor was at the center of it all.

The firelight flickered as she worked, her quill scratching against parchment as she recorded her findings. The Mark wasn’t just a curse; it was a calling. A thread that connected those it chose to something far greater—and far more terrifying—than she had ever imagined.

A sudden gust of wind extinguished the fire, plunging the room into darkness. Isolde froze, her heart pounding as the shadows seemed to close in around her. And then she heard it: a faint whisper, like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

“Soon,” the voice said, barely audible but unmistakable.

Isolde’s hands trembled as she relit the lantern, its feeble glow casting long shadows across the walls. She knew, deep in her soul, that time was running out. The Mark was awakening, and with it, the darkness that had haunted her family for generations.

Her daughters would need to be ready. And so would she.