*********

  Present

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  It was late afternoon, grey light shrouded the room with thin wind calmly blowing by. Dust particles occasionally floated into the air, dangling around in the room. The room was small, consisting of a tiny bed, a desk and a bathroom-but it was enough for a 15 year old child.

  Caelan laid on his back, facing the ceiling, his face lifeless. He had short blonde hair, dark eyes and skin that was strikingly pale, like rough winter snow. His body was healthy for his age, not extraordinary but average-but by his skin he looked sick most of the time.

  He signed, staring at the dust particles floating by, and then to the window emitting dull light.

  He grunted, moving his body back and forth-he occasionally had an uncontrollable itch on his upper back ,they told him it was a deformity from birth.

  However he noticed something, oftentimes when people lie, they avoid eye contact, their bodies tending to show small 'leaks'. Sometimes by touching their face gently, rubbing their neck, scratching their ear or adjusting their clothes. Often they pause slightly too long before answering, as if they are gathering their thoughts. This is what he noticed every time he asked about the mark on his back, blatant lies. But this didn't disturb him, he had no reason to care yet, maybe they didn't know either.

  The bell rang, with the familiar two rings being echoed across the hallway, a signal for prayer time.

  The orphanage he grew up in was poor, with narrow hallways,water leaking from the ceilings, stained walls and crowded with people. Occasionally it reeked of piss and animal decay, most of the food served was past its date.

  Caelan put on his rugged clothes, and headed outside into the hallway, down to the prayer room.

  The prayer room itself was the best part of the orphanage. It had a strong scent of violent flowers, clean white walls, a warm red carpet carved with intricate patterns and windows allowing light to shine through. At its centre, was a small wooden cylinder mounted on a stand, carved with repeating lines of scriptures.

  The children sat talking loudly, with smiles on their faces, and neatly sat in the auricle around the wheel on the carpet. A priest walked towards the centre, with brown beads in his hands and placed his hands onto the wheel.

  "Quite down, children." He spoke softly, the wrinkles on his skin moving with his mouth, the extra fat hanging from his body.

  "Today, we offer our prayers to the lord of recursion, may he grant us infinite wealth here in this human realm, may he forgive our sins, so that we can prosper once more." He went to his daily jargon.

  The god of recursion, an entity said to control infinity itself, the sole reason for our existence. It is said that this world was once designed to be a perfect paradise, but in order for something to be perfect-it must harbour infinite possibilities. This leads to demise-The recursion realm, the human realm is just a cheap copy of a failed experiment, or so that's what they told him. Was it an actual being, or just a concept? For centuries, humans put their own fantasies to labels they can't explain. Not so long ago, they thought the fire itself was divine, this limited way of thinking is what leads to their demise.

  Caelan snapped out of his mind, he looked around the room and saw everyone joining their palms with their eyes closed. He did the same.

  "O God of Recursion, return me to the beginning.

  Let my mind repeat only what is true.

  Let my fear break and come back as calm.

  As the pattern turns, so do I.

  Again, and again, and again." Chanted the priest, his voice shaky, he was always enthusiastic, as if this would save him from hellfire after death, what a foolish concept. We are just meant to be pawns, worshipping some god we don't understand so that we can be saved?

  Calen wasn't angry, he was just disappointed, disappointed to be part of a circle that lacked any real ambition, any real purpose to seek the real truth for themselves. It wasn't because it excited him, he was just curious.

  The prayer ended, and it was time for lunch. On the menu today was salted bread, curd and cooked, unseasoned, exceptionally tasteless lamb. Caelan didn't mind, he ate for function, not taste-he had grown to adjust his tastebuds. Beside him, a girl slipped and fell with her plate as she was walking to her desk, the food spilling all over her clothes.

  The room blared with laughter, pointing to her as if she was a circus animal. Her face was filled with tears, her hands covering her eyes.

  Caelan looked at her calmly dead in the eye and walked over to her. He kneeled down, and grabbed the lamb sitting on the dirty floor.

  "Eat, you will starve if you waste time crying." He explained with a cold expression.

  **********

  The evening, the cold air whisked past Caelan's skin, the chatter of children now quit on the streets. The kingdom was filled with a fog, thick and pale, and turning the lights into soft glowing blurs. Buildings faded into grey shapes, and everything felt quiet and distant, like the world had been muted.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Caelan sat at his desk, pen in hand, studying the book, 'The Foundations of Mark Geometry: The Seven Patterns and their Depths. He looked at the drawing of the Ember mark, it didn't resemble a clean image like the others. It was shaped like a dust cloud, dark and uneven, spreading across the outline of a back like a stain left by fire. Inside the cloud were three bright cores, sketched as glowing points buried beneath layers of ash. Around them, the mark broke out into countless flecks and branching soot-lines, like sparks thrown outwards and frozen mid-air.

  The description in the book read;

  'Ember Mark: A smoke-shaped stain under the skin, filled with tiny sparks that split into smaller sparks the closer you look. It grants heat and fire.'

  A mark that grants fire? Interesting. This always intrigued Caelan, more than the rest of the fractal marks- spiral, river, branch, mirror, coastline, and wave.

  Today was the imperial screening day, a special day in the kingdom where thousands of children aged 15 are registered and selected to the academy based on their grades, fitness and the intricacy of their fractal mark. The more detailed and intricate the mark, the more power the user can bring out.

  "Hurry up children, get into the prayer room quickly, the inspector is waiting for us" said one of the staff at the orphanage. They were usually cold and dismissive, however suddenly they turned enthusiastic. Humans always tend to fake their expressions in the presence of higher powers, it's how they survive.

  Caelan walked into the prayer room, the children lined outside with an imperial inspector and 2 guards awaiting him.

  The imperial inspector wore a long white coat that fell to his calves, stitched with thin gold thread along the helms like quiet authority.

  A stiff high collar framed his neck, and a pale sash wrapped his waist, held in place by a small metal clasp stamped with the empire's seal.

  The boy that was first in line was called.

  The inspector told the boy to take his shirt off, and he did so promptly. He inspected the spiral mark embedded on his right shoulder. The spiral wasn't anything special, it wasn't complete, only had a few lines, and extremely small-to the fact it almost blended in with his skin.

  The inspector eyed it carefully, his face tightened in quiet disappointment, like something inside him was sunk. He grabbed his school report and eyed it carefully, if he wasn't gifted in power-his intelligence could still be an asset. However, judging by the inspector's reaction, his grades were nothing special.

  He didn't even bother to check the boy's mobility and to see how healthy his body is.

  "Next!" Said the inspector as he smacked his lip. His face grunting as if this whole ordeal was a waste of time.

  After hearing many 'Nexts' and more disappointed grunts, the inspector finally called Caelan. Caelan remained calm, his feet steady-his mind had developed to the point of not caring for particular outcomes. He only cared about the specific actions he takes on a day to day basis, the outcomes didn't bother him-what was the point stressing over something that isn't in one's hands?

  He steadily walked over, and removed his T-Shirt. He turned backwards, showing his back to the inspector.

  "Hmmm" said the inspector, eyeing his mark carefully.

  Suddenly, a smile appeared on the inspector's face, as he smirked-as if he found something he wasn't expecting.

  A branch mark, but not any branch mark, one that covered his whole back. It began with a simple green line, thick as a vein, starting at the top of his back, and then splitting into two clean green forks. The forks divide again, and again, spreading outwards in a slow explosion of detail.

  In the middle of Caelan's back, a hole was carved, like a piece of flesh was missing.

  The inspector blinked, his eyes narrowed into a tight glare, his jaws tensed as he looked at the hole in Caelan's back. He had never seen such a thing, it felt wrong.., but after a while, he paid it no attention. He found a true mark bearer!

  The other children grasped, looking at Caelan with shock and jealousy.

  This was obvious, judging by what he observed from other's marks, and his own he knew he always had the upper hand. He didn't know why he was born this way, just that he was-this made him more curious to find out more about the true nature of this world.

  The inspector then eyed Caelan' s school report, smiling brightly.

  "Finally!" He shouted in joy.

  Caelan was startled back.

  "Young man, what do you say about entering one of the most prestigious academies in The Ivory Dominion, The White Meridian Academy aye?"