The rapping at Ethan’s door was hesitant, almost apologetic. After the night he'd had, after the grotesque creature and the burning symbol seared into his flesh, any unexpected sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He peeked through the peephole, his hand instinctively reaching for the rusty pipe he'd been keeping near the entrance since the… incident.

It wasn't a police officer, thank God. Not that he'd done anything wrong, but explaining a ten-foot-tall, razor-clawed nightmare wouldn’t exactly play well with the Detroit PD. Instead, a woman stood on his stoop. Tall, with a lean, almost feral grace, she was dressed in practical, dark clothing that seemed to melt into the shadows of the hallway. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight braid, revealing sharp cheekbones and eyes that held an unnerving intensity.

Hesitantly, he opened the door. "Can I help you?"

Her gaze swept over him, lingering on his face, then flicking down to his covered forearm. She already knew. He could see it in her eyes.

"Ethan Miller?" she asked, her voice low and accented. Not quite European, but something similar. Precise, clipped, and carrying a weight that belied her apparent youth.

He nodded, his throat suddenly dry. "Who are you?"

"My name is Seraphina. And I know what happened to you."

His heart hammered against his ribs. He hadn't told anyone. Not Mrs. Henderson downstairs, not even his grandmother, who was sleeping soundly in her room down the hall. How could she possibly…?

He stepped back, instinctively trying to create distance. "I don't know what you're talking about. You have the wrong apartment." He started to close the door, but she stopped it with a hand that felt surprisingly strong.

"Don't. You're not safe here, Ethan. Not anymore." Her voice wasn't threatening, but it was urgent. "That… thing… you saw? It's not the only one. And it's not the worst."

He stared at her, paralyzed by a mixture of fear and disbelief. He wanted to slam the door in her face, call the police, anything to make this nightmare go away. But the chilling clarity in her eyes, the way she seemed to see right through him, held him captive.

"How… how do you know?" he stammered.

Seraphina sighed, the sound heavy with weariness. "Because I'm like you. I'm Marked." She pulled back the sleeve of her own jacket, revealing a similar symbol etched onto her wrist – a swirling, intricate design that pulsed with a faint, internal light.

Ethan felt a cold dread creep up his spine. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't hallucinating. This was real.

He finally let her in, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The small apartment suddenly felt even smaller, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"What… what is this Mark?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Seraphina took a seat on the edge of the worn armchair, her posture alert, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. "It's a fragment. A piece of the Veil."

"The Veil? What's that?"

"Imagine reality as a tapestry, intricately woven together," she said, her gaze fixed on him. "The Veil is the thread that holds it all together. But recently… the Veil has begun to tear. Rips are appearing in the fabric of reality, allowing things from the other side to bleed through."

He pictured the shimmering tear he'd seen in the sky, the monstrous creature that had emerged from its depths. It was all starting to make a horrific kind of sense.

"And the Mark…?" he pressed.

"When the Veil tears, fragments of its energy are released. Some people, for whatever reason, become conduits for that energy. They become… Marked. You are Marked, Ethan. That's why you survived the attack."

He remembered the surge of power that had erupted from within him, the blinding light that had repelled the creature. "But what does it mean? What can I do?"

Seraphina's expression turned grim. "It means you're in danger. You have power, yes, but that power attracts attention. Not just from the creatures that come through the Veil, but from… others."

"Others?"

"Factions," she clarified. "Groups who understand what's happening and seek to control the Veil for their own purposes. Some want to close the tears, others want to exploit them. And then there are those who are simply consumed by the power, twisted by its influence."

Ethan felt overwhelmed. This was too much. He was just a guy working a dead-end job, taking care of his grandma. He wasn't some chosen one, some superhero destined to save the world.

"I don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "Why me? Why would this… Veil… choose me?"

Seraphina shrugged. "There's no rhyme or reason to it. The Veil chooses who it chooses. The important thing is what you do with it. How you use the power you've been given."

"But I don't want it," he protested. "I just want to go back to my life. I want things to be normal again."

"Normal is gone, Ethan," Seraphina said, her voice firm. "The Veil has torn. Things have changed. You can't go back."

She stood up, her eyes scanning the room, assessing the security of his meager surroundings. "You're vulnerable here. You need to come with me. I can teach you to control your abilities, to protect yourself. I can show you what the Mark truly means."

He hesitated. Trusting this woman, this stranger, felt like leaping into the abyss. But what choice did he have? Staying here meant waiting for the creature to return, or for whatever other horrors lurked on the other side of the Veil to come looking for him.

"Where would we go?" he asked.

"To a place where you can learn. A place where you'll be safe. At least, safer than you are here." She paused, her gaze softening slightly. "We don't have much time. The longer you stay here, the more danger you're in."

He looked at his grandmother's closed door, at the worn furniture, at the life he knew was slipping away. He knew, deep down, that she was right. He couldn't stay.

"Okay," he said, his voice barely audible. "Okay, I'll go with you."

Seraphina nodded, a flicker of something that might have been relief crossing her face. "Good. Pack a bag. Just the essentials. We need to leave now."

He rushed to his room, his mind racing. What was he doing? He was abandoning his life, his responsibilities, everything he knew. But he also knew that he had no other choice.

As he threw a few clothes and toiletries into a bag, Seraphina walked to the hallway and looked at his grandmother's door. "She will be safe here?" she asked.

Ethan looked at the door, his heart twisting with guilt. He couldn't leave her alone, not in this city, not with what was happening. "I… I don't know."

Seraphina approached the door cautiously and seemed to listen for a brief second. "She has a strong heart. She will be safe as long as she is unaware of what happened. This is a burden she should not bear."

Ethan finished packing, then grabbed his grandmother's medication and a picture of her when she was younger, a vibrant woman full of life and laughter. He paused for a moment, gazing at the photo, his eyes filling with tears. He had to protect her, even if it meant leaving her behind.

He rejoined Seraphina, his bag slung over his shoulder. "I'm ready," he said, his voice trembling.

She nodded, her expression resolute. "Then let's go. Our journey begins now."

As they stepped out of the apartment and into the dimly lit hallway, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind more than just his old life. He was leaving behind his innocence, his hope, and perhaps even a part of his soul. He was stepping into a world of shadows and monsters, a world where the lines between good and evil were blurred, and where the only certainty was that nothing would ever be the same again.