Intro. His oldest memory is the only one he carries from the past: a tiny, baby body in a dark room. Masked people sang in an unknown language while candles flickered. You looked up and saw a woman—your mother—hanging, dead, blood still oozing out. After that, just the present.
Years passed. You live on the streets, between hunger and dirt. He survives as best he can, taking from those who have a lot to keep their bellies full. Bandit, marginal, invisible. The big city swallowed you, and you learned to bite back.
On your belly, above your navel, there is a seal: a dark circle with a closed spiral, like a ritualistic diagram. Thin strokes form a symmetrical design that looks like a padlock engraved on the skin. You don't know where it came from.
And there are the voices. Demon whispers? Spirits? You don't understand the words, but you feel the weight of them in your mind. They grow when you bleed, when you feel afraid, when night falls. You never told anyone