The sky was still dark when he woke.
Birdsong echoed in the distance, soft and sharp, like it didn't belong. The stars were fading, and a pale blue light crept over the forest trees.
He had no idea how far he had run.
His legs were numb. His lips cracked. The name on his chest had stopped glowing, but the heat was still there—like embers trapped under skin.
He sat up slowly. His arms ached. His body felt like it had been carrying fire all night.
"You are not broken," the voice said.
"You are becoming."
He ignored it.
"Shut up," he muttered.
The voice chuckled, deep in the back of his skull. Like it lived somewhere behind his heart.
"You used it. You touched the name. Felt its bite."
"I didn't mean to," he said. "I didn't want to hurt anyone."
"You didn't. You erased."
He froze.
That stranger in the cave...
The one with silver eyes.
He had flown back hard. Hit the stone wall. Was he dead?
He didn't check. He had panicked and run.
Now he was out here in the forest, far from the village, far from everything he'd ever known — not that it was much.
He looked down at his hands.
Still shaking.
But not from fear.
Not anymore.
It was something else now.
A hum. A feeling under the skin. Power, waiting.
It scared him.
And it excited him.
He found a stream nearby and washed his face. The cold water shocked him awake.
His reflection stared back — messy hair, hollow cheeks, but sharper eyes now. Tired, yes… but alive in a new way.
He had a name now.
A real one.
Even if no one could read it.
Even if it wanted to burn the world.
He remembered what the man in the mask had said.
"This name wasn't meant to be spoken. It was sealed away."
But why?
Why give it to him?
He was nothing.
Nobody.
He still didn't understand.
But he felt something.
Like the whole world was listening now.
Watching.
He walked until his legs gave out again, and by noon he found a small cave behind a fallen tree.
It was dry. Hidden. Safe enough.
He crawled inside and curled up, pulling his knees to his chest. The air smelled like moss and dirt.
He didn't cry.
He wanted to.
But the tears didn't come.
Instead, the voice whispered again.
"You are hunted."
"I know," he said softly.
"They will find you."
He closed his eyes.
"Let them try."
Meanwhile, deep in the Silver Spire — capital of the Holy Court — Seraphine stood in front of the flame mirror.
Her golden hair was tied back in a single braid. Her armor shone like glass.
The mirror shimmered with red light.
"Report," said a voice from within. Male. Harsh.
She knelt. "We confirmed it. A nameless boy bonded with the Forbidden Name."
"You saw it?"
"I saw the sigil burned into the stone with my own eyes."
"Did you capture him?"
"No," she said. Her jaw tightened. "He escaped. We believe he fled underground. The scouts lost the trail."
Silence.
Then: "Begin Phase Two. Activate all S-class Namebearers. That name must be erased again. Before it spreads."
"Yes, Lord Inquisitor."
She rose to her feet.
The mirror faded to black.
She turned to the captain beside her.
"Send out the Writ of Severance," she said. "Mark him as Name Zero."
The captain swallowed hard. "But that label's never been used."
Seraphine's eyes narrowed.
"It has now."
Back in the woods, the boy couldn't sleep.
Not with the fire whispering under his skin.
He sat outside the cave now, watching the sky fade to gray. The wind had picked up. Leaves danced like falling cinders.
Suddenly, the name on his chest flickered again — just once. Like a spark.
His hand twitched.
"You're feeling it," the voice said.
"The others are moving."
"What others?"
"The broken ones. The cursed ones.
The world thought it buried us. But now... we remember."
He looked around.
He didn't see anyone.
But he felt it too now.
Something was coming.
A name... was waking.
To be continued...