🔥 Tagline:
“Wounds tell stories the light tried to erase.”
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⚔️ Hook Line:
Ava meets a boy scarred by dusk-magic, and through his pain, she uncovers a forbidden truth: she is not the only one cursed… or chosen.
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Kier’s wound wasn’t bleeding.
It was burning.
Black and red flames licked the edge of his collarbone, not consuming—but marking. As if the fire had sunk into his soul, branding him with something ancient and alive.
Ava hovered over him, heart pounding. “What did this to you?”
Kier groaned, trying to sit. “They did.”
“Who?”
He looked up, pain flashing in his violet-tinged eyes. “The Lightguard. After the High Flame blinked… they called us dusk-born. Hunted us. I ran.”
Ava pressed her palm lightly against his chest to steady him. “You’re not the only one. I—”
She hesitated. Then slowly opened her fingers.
The ember rested in her palm, glowing a soft violet-blue.
Kier’s eyes widened. “It’s real.”
“You’ve seen it before?”
“No.” He exhaled. “But I dreamed of it. And you.”
---
They rested under the broken archway that night, hidden beneath frost-covered vines. Ava tore a strip from her robe to bandage his wound. It pulsed when she touched it—not with heat, but with recognition.
“This mark,” Ava said, “is the same as mine. I feel it.”
Kier nodded. “It’s dusk-flame. Not darkness. Not evil. Just... forbidden.”
He explained everything in whispers:
How his village was raided after Ava’s exile.
How children who glowed at night were dragged away.
How priests arrived not with blessings, but brands.
“They called us echoes,” he muttered, “Remnants of the old rebellion.”
Ava frowned. “What rebellion?”
Kier didn’t answer.
Instead, he pulled aside his shirt and revealed the full shape of the burn: not just a wound, but a symbol. A curved spiral within a triangle.
Ava blinked. “I’ve seen that in the temple murals. They said it was a heretic sign.”
“They lied.”
He gritted his teeth. “It’s the mark of the Duskborn.”
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By morning, Kier’s fever had worsened. Ava cradled the ember close, unsure if it could heal—but when she pressed it lightly against the wound, the flames hissed and the mark cooled.
Kier gasped in relief. “You’re a wielder,” he whispered. “Like the old blood. Like the Daughters of Dusk.”
Ava stared. “There were others?”
He nodded. “Once. A long time ago. Before the flame belonged to men.”
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Later, they moved through a ravine littered with shattered statues—warrior women with broken swords, half-buried under ash and snow. One still bore the same spiral mark etched into her wrist.
“She was like us,” Ava whispered.
Kier knelt beside the statue, fingers tracing the mark. “They didn’t just kill magic. They erased its memory.”
Ava clenched her fists. “Maybe we’re meant to remember.”
That’s when they heard it.
Hooves. Steel. Voices.
Ava pulled Kier into the rocks just as a group of Lightguard passed overhead, cloaked in white and gold, faces hidden beneath sun-masks.
One of them paused. Lifted his spear. “The mark is near.”
The flame in Ava’s chest surged.
They were being hunted.
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🌑 Mini-Climax (End of Chapter 3):
Just as Ava learns the truth of her connection to an ancient magical bloodline, she and Kier are discovered by Light guard scouts. The chase begins—and Ava must decide whether to run… or fight.
"What do YOU think will happen next?"
"Don’t forget to share your guess in the comments!"
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🔥 Next Chapter: 4. The First Shadow Strike
One-line Explanation:
Cornered by Lightguard hunters, Ava unleashes a power she didn’t know she had—marking the first open strike of dusk against the tyranny of light.
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