Free Marked by Pedro Urvi

the square with a sickening, hollow thud.
    Several of the onlookers had to get out of the way to avoid being struck by his body.
    A sepulchral silence came over the square.
    The spectators were left speechless, in a state of shock from the horrendous event they’d just witnessed. No one moved for what seemed like minutes, trying to grasp the magnitude of whatever it was that had happened. Gudin was the first to react. He ran to Akog to see if he was still breathing. He shook his head, confirming Akog was dead.
    Komir lowered his head, profoundly grieved.
    A soft murmur could be heard among the crowd. The whispering was quickly getting louder until it erupted into hundreds of muffled shouts and accusations. And one word was becoming clear above the whispering:
    Sorcerer.
    The spectators began to chant, repeating ever more quickly and loudly:
    “Sorcerer! Sorcerer! Sorcerer!”
    A public accusation directed at Komir in response to the arcane act they’d just witnessed.
    Looking at his hand incredulously, Komir could not process what had happened moments before. Desperation consumed him. He had killed Akog and his secret—the reason why he had never been able to integrate into the tribal society, the stigma that had marked him—had been revealed here, in front of everyone. His spirit plunged into the abyss of despair. Everyone had witnessed it and he was sure they would condemn him.
    Why? Why is this happening to me now? Now that I was finally so close to being an accepted member of the tribe? Now that I could finally erase that dreadful incident that marked me as persona non grata in everyone’s memory? After winning the tournament, when I’d finally succeeded in becoming a rightful Norriel warrior and achieved what I’d always wanted... this will destroy all of it. His eyes filled with tears from a mixture of anger and frustration as he heard the accusations hurled at him like a merciless lashing.
    He would remain forever marked as a Sorcerer, a stigma from which he would never be free.
    Forevermore he would be someone the tribal society could barely tolerate. Never would he be welcome. He would be forced to carry out his existence on the margins of the tribe. Magic and arcane arts generated fear and misunderstanding among his people. Never would he be the respected Norriel warrior he so desperately longed to be.
    His dream would die, here and now.
    “Sorcerer! Sorcerer! Sorcerer!” the shouts went on. His head down, he left the square with a painful void in his chest for not having achieved what he had yearned for, knowing that he would never again have the chance to achieve it. He did not even dare to look at his mother, so afraid was he to see the shame in her eyes.
     
     
     

Dark Power
     
     
     
    Far removed from the heartache of the Norriel Ceremony of the Bear, in a remote continent beyond the Hundred Seas hidden from the known world, Isuzeni stood in the antechamber of the throne room. He was waiting to be called before his powerful and ruthless queen, Yuzumi—the Dark Queen, as she was known throughout the shattered continent of Toyomi. That morning, the queen had requested his humble presence. Isuzeni was unsure of the reason, but as High Priest of the Cult of Imork, ancestral god of the dead, and personal Counselor to his all-powerful queen, he was accustomed to being summoned to carry out the wishes of his lady and mistress.
    He looked contemplatively at the chamber, his slanted black eyes noticing every detail. Before him, a large and exquisitely decorated room, adorned in velvet fabrics that bathed the walls with the Empire’s colors. A huge flag waved on a balcony showing two swords with blood-red, curved blades on a background as black as the night; a banner that struck dread in the hearts of its enemies and fear in the hearts of its subjects. The emblem that, since the time Queen Yuzumi began the conquest just over ten years ago, had gradually but savagely taken the nine kingdoms one by one,