Caelan breathed heavily.

  The students' screams shattered across the room. It was as if the whole world was closing in on them. The walls tightened, heading their way, the ceiling shattered into tiny pieces. The pieces seemed as if they were falling, but none actually hit the floor, and the floor swayed like a snake on its own.

  Caelan sweated. He wasn't thinking straight. His body was acting on its own as his sweat dripped onto the floor. He was about to pass out.

  "Stop!" screamed the instructor, putting her hand on Caelan and pulling him up from the floor. She knew he was not comprehending what she was saying, as if he was daydreaming with his eyes open. She slapped his face, trying to get his attention back.

  "What's happening?" Caelan thought to himself. From his days of studying at the orphanage, he had never read about this. None of the marks had this power. What was he? What was he doing? What was his mark?

  One thing was clear. Caelan tried to pull his attention together to muster one single thought.

  His mark was fake. It wasn't the branch mark they told him earlier. However, the question remained. What was his fractal mark? Was there another 8th mark he didn't know about? It seemed highly unlikely. Why would the Dominion hide such a thing?

  The instructor slapped him again. Caelan fell to the floor, his eyes closed, his mind drifting to darkness. The room suddenly became normal again, the students still screaming from what had happened.

  "What is he?"

  He heard faint, low voices. He felt his body move. However, he had no control over it. His eyes were slammed shut, his breathing heavy, his heartbeat rapid.

  "He's a monster, that's what he is."

  He tried to move his limbs, but they refused his commands. He switched to his sense of touch to perceive his surroundings.

  "We brought a devil into the academy."

  On his back, he felt a soft, pillowlike surface. He was lying on a bed. The voice behind him was louder than the rest. He was being transported somewhere.

  "Calm down, let the principal handle him."

  He tried hard to keep his mind awake. Thinking itself was taking all the exhaustion out of him. He exhaled deeply, and once again fell into a deep slumber.

  "Ahh."

  He grunted. His head throbbed in pain, his body flimsy and weak as he woke up. His mouth was dry. It appeared that he was dehydrated. He licked his lips, his skin flaky. It seemed as if he had further lost a small amount of body mass.

  He looked around. The room he was in was not his own. It was spacious, filled with decorations, objects, and bookshelves on each side. It had a large window, letting in vibrant yellow light.

  Where was he?

  But more importantly, what happened?

  He didn't remember much, just that the room appeared to shift due to his concentration, and nothing after that. That was enough. It was enough to draw a terrifying conclusion. He had an abnormal mark, a mark probably either never seen before or erased entirely for whatever reason. He had to find out what it was and how he got it.

  In this world, the marks people get from birth are not random. They depend on the emotional environment the mother is in whilst pregnant. Different emotional environments yield different fractal marks. In other words, they were born from suffering. An Ember mark was born when the mother repressed anger and rage. Branch when the mother had conflicted hope and was emotionally divided. Coastline when she was torn between opposing states. Wave when her emotions repeated endlessly. Mirror when she lost her sense of identity. Spiral when she was obsessed with one thought or purpose. And River when she had surrendered completely to her emotional vulnerability. This was well known throughout the empire.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Of course, there were instances where people lived peaceful and happy lives. However, this would result in either no fractal mark or a faint one not capable of anything. These individuals were discarded by the Dominion and forced into labour.

  You cannot force an emotion. It had to come naturally. Caelan knew nothing about his parents or how he came to be. He was hence left clueless about the mark he possessed.

  He got up and headed out of the door.

  Outside, he saw a man in his early 40s, dressed in large, pale white robes, with a necklace around his neck. The pendant resembled a wheel. He was sketching something in his book until they both locked eyes. The man smiled gently at Caelan.

  "Who are you?" Caelan said coldly.

  The man maintained his smile.

  "Is that any way to treat the principal, Mr. Merrow?"

  Caelan swallowed. He recognised the gravity of the situation. He should not have said something without thinking. However, he felt detached, his body relaxed and his eyes locked. He warmly greeted the principal with a smile.

  "So sorry, Principal. Forgive me. I will mind my tongue next time. I am ready to face whatever punishment comes my way," Caelan said as he bowed towards the principal.

  The principal giggled, clapping his hands.

  "No need for that, no need. Come, sit," the principal said, signalling Caelan to take a seat in front of him.

  Caelan sat down, his hands beside his waist.

  "So tell me," said the principal as he poured a glass of water and handed it to Caelan, "What happened yesterday?"

  Yesterday? It had already been a full day since he was knocked out?

  Inside, Caelan was shaky. He didn't have an answer to the question. He had no idea what had happened. On the outside, he remained calm and untouched. He drank the glass of water slowly to delay the question and gather his thoughts.

  "Well, sir, quite frankly, I don't know myself," he said, his voice firm. He had to be honest.

  "However, if I may, I suspect perhaps it may have not been related to a mark at all, maybe something else."

  "Something else? What else could it be?" The principal raised his eyebrows.

  Large empires and sectors were equipped with a Pattern Well, an infrastructure located underground. It was what stabilised the place. Decades ago, order fell out of place, and random, abnormal, almost otherworldly events took place. The priests said this was caused because of the sins of humanity, and that the lords who resided in the recursion realm were angry at them. So they built these Pattern Wells, recurring structures built with geometry. Their function was that when people around them repeated patterns and rituals, order would be balanced so abnormal activities would not take place.

  That was the only excuse Caelan could think of. This also explained the dead birds he saw rain down on his way to the academy.

  "Well, sir, my hypothesis is that our current Pattern Well under the White Meridian is slowly eroding. Hence, random events take place that disturb probability itself, like we saw today."

  "Hmm, interesting, and you think it's nothing else?" the principal asked, drinking a glass of water and scratching his chin. He looked more intrigued than demanding. On the outside, the principal looked calm and almost kind, unlike the rest of the staff. But inside, he was calculating, knowing that Caelan was just another pawn in the system.

  Caelan's life depended on this exchange. He knew if he said something wrong, he would be executed by live burning the next day. He had to choose his words carefully and sound as unsure as possible.

  "Well, sir, that's my hypothesis. I really don't know. What do you think?" he asked.

  Silence.

  They stared at each other. The smile on the principal's face had now completely faded. The room seemed to dim.

  "Hah." The principal giggled.

  What an odd man.

  "Well, I think you are right on the money there. I had the same thought."

  Was he lying? No, he was genuine.

  "The academy is certainly lucky to have someone as smart as you. It is true, what you said."

  Caelan laughed alongside him.

  "Now," he said, slamming his glass on the desk and smacking his lips.

  "What are you going to do about the others? They think low of you because of what happened."

  Caelan paused for a moment.

  "Sir, I never really cared about others' opinions. My journey is my own," Caelan replied loudly.

  "Hah, good man," the principal said whilst patting Caelan on the shoulders.

  "Other than that, you are free to go. Do you have any questions for me?"

  Caelan thought for a moment.

  "Sir, is there an 8th fractal mark, a mark that somehow got erased from history?" he asked.

  The principal widened his eyes.