Mark felt his arms, his skin warm.

His body still trembled, and he couldn't quite focus, but he was left alone in his room to have some space.

When Antinstine passed out, Syl and Ox had rushed Mark out of the laboratory, trying to preserve the High Evolved's dignity. But Mark had already seen it—how weak and fragile Antinstine looked, with his eyes shut and head hanging at one side. It was only then that he felt more real. The whole charade of "acting like an Evolved" no longer felt like a dream.

But as Mark stared down at the chipped paint across his skin, it all felt like a faraway memory. What once felt real dimmed back down into that veil.

He glided his hand over the paint, the surface of his skin rough and dry. A few chips of paint fluttered to the floor at his feet.

He took a deep breath, leaning over to grab the vial of the black, viscid liquid. The glass was cold under his fingers.

As he uncapped the vial and poured it into his hands, his mind couldn't help but replay what happened between him and Antinstine. The way he was able to move his blood—the way his heartbeat sounded—the way he reacted...

Before Antinstine passed out, he said that he saw Mark.

'I see you,' hissed his voice in his head.

Mark swallowed, mindlessly rubbing his hands together. The black paint was thick, and it spread over his skin like glue. His skin erupted with goosebumps.

What did he mean by that? thought Mark. That he sees me?

He wavered, staring at Prada's empty bed from across the room.

He didn't understand what Antinstine meant, but in the moment, he could... feel it. Like Antinstine had been through the exact same thing—saw a... saw a part of himself in Mark. And, in doing so, knew what he really was. A human.

In a fit of nervousness, he continued to spread the paint over his forearms.

Even if Antinstine really—knew what he was (which would be absurd!)—there was no way that he could truly... prove it.

Mark gnawed on his bottom lip. His human nature could be proven.

He shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He'd gone through enough stress already... thinking about what was to come wouldn't help matters at all.

He took a deep breath, his eyes stinging. His mind couldn't help but continue to rush with thoughts. He just wanted it to be over.

Mark stared down at his hands, and his insides twisted. He hadn't even painted them properly; it was still obvious that it was chipped, and a few strands of the goop were dripping onto the floor. Staining it.

His lower lip trembled, and he clenched his fists, fighting back tears.

When he looked down at his hands, all he could see was a darkness. Something beyond human, beyond Evolved.

A monster.

He had bent someone else's blood, and for a second, he had enjoyed it.

He had a sickness pumping through his very blood—a sickness forced on him.

Mark breathed in hard through his nose, his body shaking.

He couldn't accept to live with a curse like this.

A tear slipped past his eye, and he cursed, wiping it away with the back of his hand. The paint—still wet—smeared on his cheek. He cursed again.

He wanted to go home.

But what was home anymore?

He numbly ran his hands up his forearms, the paint covering the cracks and damage from the previous layer. It was cold at first, and as he went through the motions, his mind came across another terrible thought.

What was the point of painting his arms—if he was an actual Evolved, now?

Bile rose in his throat, and his fingers dug into his arm. His jaw clenched, tight, and his tremors became more intense.

It's temporary, he told himself. Something he repeated over and over to convince himself that he was still human. It's only t-temporary.

He glanced around the room, searching for a towel to remove the paint from his face. His arms still dripped with obvious paint, but he didn't mind in the moment. He was alone. All to himself.

He stood up, searching around the bed frames, under them... his mind still drummed with worry, but he tried to push it aside.

No one will find out, he tried telling himself. No one will find out.

He frowned, coming up with nothing, and decided to use his bedsheets. With a sigh, he picked them up with his fingers, trying not to smudge anymore paint than he already had. Then, carefully, he pressed the sheets up to his face... wiped it off... but before he could make sure it was all gone, footsteps thudded from outside.

His heart thudded in his throat. He scrambled with the sheets. Stumbled to his bed.

The door opened with a loud creak.

Mark cursed and bundled the sheets in his lap, hiding his face in them. They were smudged with black at this point, the paint an obvious display. The glass vial was on the other side of the bed, too.

The door softly shut, and the footsteps grew closer. Mark breathed hard, then cleared his throat, his blood running cold when he saw the sheets ruined.

"I'm—sleeping," he forced out. When he spotted the vial, his stomach sank further.

There was a pause. The footsteps quieted, and a presence brushed against the side of the bed.

"It's me," came Cibil's soft voice.

Mark's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but relax in the slightest. With a shaky breath, he gazed over the bedframe, still holding the sheets up to his face.

"Cibil—" he said. "What're you doing here?"

Cibil's head shifted aside, her blindfolded gaze landing on the glass vial. Mark's face paled, and he snatched it, hiding it from view.

Smooth, he scolded himself. So smooth, you idiot.

"I wanted to check up on you," said Cibil softly, walking forward. "See how you were doing."

Mark swallowed when she came closer, turning away so she wouldn't see the smudged blankets. She stood in front of him now, gazing down at his huddled figure on the bed. It was silent for a long, long while—so long that Mark considered that Cibil had left the room.

The soft shifting of her dress proved otherwise.

"Well?" asked Cibil. "How are you, Viper?"

Mark turned his back to her, carefully wiping the paint away from his face. If only he could see if he completely removed it.

"After that shitshow?" he mumbled, trying to remember his character. "Wonderful."

Cibil hummed, circling around the bed and sitting next to Mark. The bed barely sank beneath her weight, but it was enough to alert him. He glanced over at her, still holding the sheets to the side of his face.

"I understand that you're still... resentful with what happened," she breathed. She stared at the floor through her blindfold, resting her hands on her legs. After a moment, she glanced over at Mark. "Are you still in pain?"

Mark could have sworn they met eyes, and he carefully glanced aside.

"No," he said softly. "But, I was enjoying my time alone."

He gazed at her to make a point, but she didn't move. Instead, she smiled; the sight was alarming.

"Viper," she said carefully. "Let down the bedsheets."

She decided now would be a good time to tell him.

"I'd rather not," said Mark.

Cibil waited patiently, and when Mark didn't show signs of budging, she leaned forward and reached over, her lithe fingers hooking on the bundle of sheets.

"Viper," she said, softer this time. "You can let your guard down... around me."

She shifted on the bed to better face him, gazing at him.

"You don't have to hide anymore," she said. "In this moment, at least."

She tilted her head towards the sheets, then gently tugged. Mark swallowed, his heart beginning to race.

"I'm—really cold—" he said.

"Viper."

Mark took a deep breath, desperately searching her face. She was just a kid, and yet... somehow, he trusted her.

It's all an act, he thought. It has to be.

Despite his thoughts, he carefully lowered the blanket. Cibil gently smiled, and she pulled the sheets away, dropping them on the floor in a messy, paint-stained bundle.

"Here," said Cibil softly.

She brought her hands up to her face and slid her fingers under her blindfold. The silk gave under her touch, lifting in the slightest... Mark's eyes widened, and he watched in shock as she took off the blindfold.

"I came prepared," she said with a faint laugh. The blue fabric slipped past her face, revealing—not her eyes—but another blindfold. It was the faintest of pinks—nearly an ivory color.

Mark huffed in relief. He had no idea what he was expecting, but the mere idea of seeing Cibil's face seemed dangerous. One thing was for sure: she wore that blindfold for a reason.

Cibil leaned forward and pressed the blue blindfold to the side of Mark's face. She gently wiped away the rest of the paint, and when she pulled it away, the black was startling against the pale fabric.

Mark's stomach dropped. He tried floundering for an explanation.

"W-when I'm stressed, I—"

"No, you don't," said Cibil softly. Mark blinked, and he watched as Cibil neatly folded the ruined blindfold and set it aside.

She rested her hands in her lap, gazing at him pointedly.

"A woman named Sojour," continued Cibil. "She enchanted the paint you're wearing. I know her work."

Mark's face paled, and he stared at her with wide eyes. His mind raced a million miles an hour, but he couldn't get a single word out. He was speechless.

Does she know? Does she really know?

His breaths quickened.

She must have told Antinstine, continued his racing thoughts. And if that's the case—

"Viper," said Cibil, coaxing him out of his thoughts. She tilted her head. "Remember what I told you when you first came here?"

Mark swallowed, and he struggled to focus on her. He cleared his throat, brows furrowed.

"That I can... trust you?" he managed out.

Cibil nodded.

"I know it's hard to believe," she said quietly, "but I want you to know that I am on no one's side."

Mark's brows furrowed, but he stayed silent. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"For me, it's not about the Tear Stealer or Antinstine," she continued. "It's about fate. And the future of our world."

She took a deep breath and sighed.

"As a foreseer, it is my duty to stay loyal to my visions," she said. "The slightest interference on my part can skew entire lives—millions, even." She dropped her blindfolded gaze to her hands. "I've already wronged my ability countless times since I've learned about your part in the visions... informing Edwards of when you'd attack... giving him more than I should have—"

Mark blinked, the information swirling in his head.

So that's how they caught me so easily, he thought.

If Dark never seeked Cibil's help... Mark would have been able to kill him. Or maybe Dark would have killed him; had he still kidnapped him, he didn't have any reason to keep him. Antinstine's side of the favor would have never even existed.

His mind whirred at the possibilities.

"And then now," said Cibil. "Talking to you, in this manner... it changes things. Whether that's in the slightest or the most dramatic of ways."

Mark swallowed, and he gazed at Cibil. He itched to wring his hands together, but he couldn't risk ruining the paint. Instead, his brows furrowed, and he searched Cibil's expressions aimlessly.

"Why are you telling me this?" he breathed.

Cibil was silent for a moment. Her face fell grave, and the folds of her blindfold relaxed. The comfortable air in the room shifted to something more cold; Mark could have sworn the warm, yellow lights dimmed.

"Because..."

The word hung in the air for a while, heavy... present... dreadful. It had Mark's skin crawling.

"I know... what you are," said Cibil slowly. She turned towards Mark, who did a double-take. Any control over his expressions was lost.

"I know the... fear you're experiencing," said Cibil. "The confusion, the hurt, the panic you must face everyday..." She lifted her gaze, and Mark could have sworn they met eyes again. "I know... that you deserve every right to know that you're not alone. Here."

Mark went still.

"I also know..." continued Cibil, "...that you are not who you say you are."

She shifted to better face him, meeting his paled expression.

"You weren't born an Evolved. You're a human," she said. "I've known this whole time."

Mark struggled to speak, but even if he tried to, he couldn't come up with anything.

Cibil leaned forward and rested a hand on the space between them.

"That's why I need you to trust me," she said quietly. "Mark."

Mark's eyes widened, and his heart raced. She said his name. But how did she—

"Antinstine will fall," she said. Mark swallowed, and Cibil managed a small smile. "Believe me. There are more people that are against him, within these very walls, than you would expect."

Mark could only stare, still stunned. Cibil carefully bowed her head, and she grabbed the stained blindfold on the bed.

"I should get going," she said, standing up. "I'll have a servant send you new sheets."

She turned away, and Mark cleared his throat, shooting out of bed.

"W-wait—"

Cibil stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

"When—" Mark cleared his throat again, wavering in place. "When I injected Antinstine with... with the ability—" He vaguely gestured with his hands. "Right before he passed out, he—he said he saw me."

Cibil's face fell.

"What did he... what did he mean by that?" asked Mark. "Does that mean he—knows what I am, too?"

A dreadful silence filled the room until it was nearly suffocating. Cibil stood there, lapsed into thought, and she took a deep, steady breath.

"Not in the way I know," she said. She clutched the dirtied blindfold in her hands, and with another exhale, she breathed:

"Edwards... he didn't tell you?"

Mark swallowed, a dread crawling up his throat. "Tell me what?" he muttered, voice small.

With Cibil's expression, and how resigned she was, he could tell that what she was about to say would be anything but pleasant.

She turned around to face Mark, any comfort from her face gone. It was cold. She took another breath, careful with her words; Mark could practically see her deciding what to say.

"The reason Antinstine does these experiments," said Cibil, "is not only to be all-powerful. It's more than just... collecting abilities to control the Evolved world."

She stepped forward, and Mark wavered in his place.

"I believe that... the core motivation behind his demented ways is to... to take back control from what he once lost."

Mark's brows furrowed, his mind whirring again.

"What do you... mean by that?" he muttered.

Cibil gently clutched the blue blindfold in her hands.

"This isn't the first time that experiments like this were performed," she said carefully. She paused again, then took another deep breath.

"Years ago, a group of Evolveds began kidnapping humans," she said. "They tested on them—tried to find a way to inject abilities into them. Turn them into Evolveds."

Cibil gazed at Mark through her blindfold, and even though he couldn't see her eyes, they seemed to burn right through his soul.

"Test after test... human after human... and they still weren't finding anything," said Cibil. Her voice darkened, and she bowed her head. "Until... one day... they succeeded."

Mark swallowed, heart racing.

"That one human was Antinstine."

Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mind went still, and his mouth dropped.

Antinstine... one of the most feared Evolveds in the WORLD...

Cibil carefully nodded.

"He's recreating the experiments on you," she said. "But this time, it's not solely for abilities." She swallowed. "It's for war."

The room was silent for a moment, but in the next second, Cibil straightened herself and tilted her chin up.

"And that is why he must die," she said firmly.

Mark breathed hard, nodding. Before he could say anything else, Cibil headed for the door.

"Wait—"

Cibil rested her hand on the doorknob.

"Just... one more question," said Mark. He swallowed, his hands shaking. "Will I..."

His brows curled upwards.

"Will I be stuck like this... a-as an Evolved... forever?" he managed out.

Cibil lingered at the door, then glanced over her shoulder. She softly smiled.

"That's for you to decide," she said. "You determine who you are, Mark."

Mark swallowed, the words of little aid.

"Get some rest," said Cibil. "I'll see you again."

She turned the knob, but before she could leave, someone pushed the door open.

Prada stepped in, and he quickly shut the door behind him, body tense.

Mark stilled at the sight of him, breath hitching. Had he heard their conversation?

Bile rose in his throat, but when he glanced over at Cibil, she seemed unfazed. In fact, she stepped back with a faint smile as if she were—relieved to see him.

"Prada," she greeted.

Prada didn't say anything, nor did he move or blink. He stared straight at Mark, looking past him, through him. It was beyond unnerving, and Cibil followed his gaze, meeting Mark's pale, frozen features. She gently held out a hand in his direction as comfort.

"It's okay, Viper," she said softly. There was a pause. "He knows, too."

She glanced over at Prada, smiling at him.

"He's with us."

Mark swallowed, and he stared back at Prada, who still hadn't stopped looking at him. His skin crawled.

Him? thought Mark. There was no way...

"Well, I'll leave you two to your room," said Cibil. "Goodnight."

She walked forward, going to leave, but Prada didn't move a muscle. He stayed there, standing in front of the door, staring at Mark.

The air went cold.

"Prada?" she said again.

The markings on Prada's face flickered red, and the lines of his neck tensed when he swallowed.  He couldn't even spare a glance at Cibil. With a deep breath, he stared Mark in the eye and said tightly:

"Antinstine wants to see you."

Well well welllll what're your thoughts? 👀👀👀 I have much more planned hehehhehe

Also, I made a Discord server for anyone interested 👉👈 It's basically like a group chat among friends/fellow Markicest shippers. It's a bit dead bc I'm awkward asf and not very active so I apologize for that ahHAKFJD

But the link is in bio if you want it UwU

Anyway, thank you so much for reading!! I hope you have a wonderful day, and stay safe out there!

Love,

Kass xoxo