Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 390 The Mark of Qayin Rui’s Awakening

That night felt different. The sky was not just dark; it seed to watch over her with intense scrutiny, creating a profound tension in the atmosphere. The whisper of the wind was gentle, carrying the scent of damp earth that deepened her sense of unease.

Yu Rui Fei Lin stood behind the narrow window of her wooden house. Her hands trembled, not from the cold, but because she was starting to sense sothing unusual... a whisper from within herself. The voice ca in sync with her heartbeat, reminiscent of an ancient rite attempting to lift the veil between reality and shadows. Her heart raced, and as darkness challenged her, she felt the outside world beginning to fade away, enveloped by an inescapable mystery.

"Rui..."

"Open your eyes, and see who is truly bound in your blood."

"Your na is not one. You carry two destinies."

That night, she fell asleep, but her sleep was restless, haunted by vague faces shimring in the dark. Yet in her dreams, she was not at ho. She was not in Qingheng. She found herself trapped in a colorless void.

Not black. Not white. No sound. No form. Only a dancing emptiness, intertwined with uncertainty; a stage seemingly waiting for every beat of his heart.

Only a dark red light hole in the air existed—spiraling like an inverted vortex. The spiral seed to want to pull her in, pressing her into the core of sothing deeper and darker. She felt a strong tug, a call from her trapped soul, telling her that she was more than just what was visible.

From that hole, a hooded figure erged, his eyes covered with a red cloth, emanating an aura of mystery and dread. His hands were bound by chains of gold and bone, symbols of suffering and curse. His voice... reverberated through Rui's entire being, shaking her to the core of his existence.

"You are the child of a failed legacy."

"Your blood rembers the sins yet to be redeed."

"Your na is Rui. Yet beneath her skin... sothing older hides. As Qayin spoke, she felt fragnts of lost mories returning; the faces of loved ones, fear and hope converging within the darkness.

"I am Qayin."

"The rejected from earth and sky."

"That mark is not rely a symbol; it is a haunting legacy, giving deeper aning to every drop of blood flowing within him. Is he not worthy of defining his own fate, even while trapped in this vortex?"

"I am your first curse. I am not a spirit. Not a demon. Not a god. I am the will that remains unaccepted."

Rui tried to step back, but she couldn't. Her feet were stuck on the empty surface of her dream, as if the world around her was hollow and only darkness awaited her. Within her heart, anxiety began to blaze. What did it an to be a curse? Was all of this a fate she must endure, or did she have the choice to resist? Cold sweat soaked her temples as her mind spun in a whirlpool of dread. She struggled against the shadows of Qayin that gripped her soul, both terrifying and alluring at the sa ti.

Rui recalled tales of ancient rituals—ceremonies that involved symbols and blood, where imprisoned souls were promised freedom through sacrifice. She envisioned the carefully arranged symbols in a circle, the red liquid flowing, dancing on the ground as incantations were chanted by the priests. Could she, as the second vessel, feel the weight of that legacy? Or was it rely her worst nightmare?

"Why are you inside ?" he scread, his voice echoing through the darkness, as if hoping to find an answer among the empty walls.

"Who planted you?"

Qayin replied with a bitter smile, a grin that reflected all the unspoken pain, as if wanting to reveal the surrender and regret that lay quietly buried within.

"I wasn't placed. I was inherited."

"You... are the second vessel." This truth shook her. She found herself trapped in an endless cycle, born into the waves of fate flowing within her own blood. On one hand, there was a desire to resist, but on the other, a call from her lineage—a powerful pull taking her against the current of her own soul, as if two opposing worlds clashed within her existence.

She awoke from her sleep in a cold sweat, gasping in the quiet of the night. Her eyes flew open wide, and the shadow of Qayin still haunted her. Her hand brushed the nape of her neck— and for the first ti... she felt a small wound in the shape of an inverted spiral symbol. What did this mark an? Why did this symbol seem to both beckon and threaten her simultaneously? The pain felt deeper than the physical; it was a reminder of Qayin's presence, continually whispering in her mind, inviting and pulling her into the endless loop that resided within her.

The Mark of Qayin.

An ancient symbol of the will that drove him to kill his own brother. It represents a will that cannot be redeed... yet continues to live within her blood. Like a mantra, this symbol pulses within her soul, as if promising to unveil all secrets if she is willing to sacrifice herself for it.

Two days earlier, Joanna had left a small wooden box

beneath the roots of the plum tree that she often visited—a tree that stood firm, a symbol of strength and resilience, yet also of vulnerability, much like her, caught between two worlds that seem irreconcilable.

On that day... Rui found it. Inside was a scrap of paper:

"Rui, if you find this, it ans the ti has co."

"Within you lies not only a spiral of fate..."

"But an ancient legacy known as Qayin—the first will that killed for choice."

"He is not a demon."

"He is pure rebellion that has lost its way."

"Do not fear him. But also... do not trust him."

"You are not him. But you will face him." – Joanna"

Several nights later, Rui began to dream of a world he had never seen: dark and full of mystery, as if his fear had conjured shapeless shadows swirling around him. A man in a golden robe refused to offer a sacrifice, and she felt an unsettling vibration within her soul, creating an algorithm she had never imagined. In her dream, whispering voices, though veiled in a gentle tone, filled her mind with questions about how her fate intertwined with Qayin, a form of destiny that seed to await her in every dark corner.

A land that weeps blood, marked by the smooth imprints of steps, wove a tapestry of heraldry indicating the presence of sothing greater than himself. Observing it, Rui felt not only spotlighted as a challenger but as part of a fragnt of a larger tale, a narrative woven by intricate paths of destiny—a spiral where blood and will spiraled in the gloom.

The voice of the heavens spoke:

"He will wander. And he will not be recognized."

Panic surged through Rui as she pondered whether she would uncover a piece of herself hidden behind the swirling emblem of Qayin on her wrist—a symbol marking the tumultuous battle within her. The ancient ritual awakened both hope and fear, and at tis, she felt a profound connection between herself and her inheritance. The tug-of-war between eting the expectations embedded within her while simultaneously freeing herself from the burdens of the past ford a relentless cycle in her mind.

In each dream, Rui found himself standing in the midst of an empty battlefield, with everyone pointing at him. Blaming him. Accusing him of bringing destruction. He felt the weight of every finger directed at him, as if they were arrows piercing through his heart. Every night, as dark shadows gripped his thoughts, he questioned his presence in a world filled with pain and fury. In the bright daylight, a whisper echoed in his mind: Was he truly the harbinger of calamity? Or rely a victim of a fate he would never comprehend?

"Qayin is not rely a wound... He is the echo of a world that never heals."

He is the echo of a world that never heals."

On the seventh night after the sign of Qayin appeared, the sky above Qingheng montarily opened, revealing a depth of blue darker than the night itself. Lightning struck as if the heavens were trying to convey a ssage that only Rui could understand. When his reflection appeared in the mirror, revealing only half of his body, Rui felt his heartbeat sync with an invisible rhythm, a pulsation reminding him of the responsibilities he had to face.

"You have unraveled your ancient knot."

"That mark... is not a shackle. It is a warning."

Rui recalled the first ti he saw the sign of Qayin; the wound resembled a flowing spiral, imbued with symbolism that reminded him of the bloodline flowing through generations. He felt as if he were caught in the soft yet deadly confines of a ritual involving not just his body but also his soul and legacy. As images of darkness swirled in his mind, he sensed a staggering power within the silent room, demanding clear answers and the courage to confront the truth.

"If you reject your destiny, Qayin will grow."

"If you accept it raw, you will beco him."

"You must weave it yourself, Rui."

Reflecting on those words, she felt her soul was torn—caught between hope and fear. The spiral that haunted her thoughts now felt like a thread that needed to be woven into sothing aningful. Each strand reminded her that she possessed the power to shape her own path, even if it demanded a resurrection from darkness.

"That's why... Your spiral feels different. A sign that everything you've ever known pales in comparison to the path you will choose."

After all that, Rui began to withdraw. She no longer left the house, trapped in her own shadows and thoughts that spiraled endlessly like a never-ending loop. She painted circle after circle on the ground, creating an invisible map of her fears. These circles symbolized the fate that continually followed her, as if inviting Rui to enter the labyrinth of darkness created by Qayin. She burned plum blossoms with the touch of her finger, watching the smoke dance away, as if it were the remnants of hope slowly fading. The acrid scent reminded Rui of sweet mories that now felt increasingly distant. She wrote poetry legible to no one, distorted words trapped in her mind, reflecting the turmoil of emotions that surged: fear, longing, and denial. Each ink stroke was a prohibition she imposed on Qayin, even though the voice within her soul seed to urge her to surrender.

"If I am the will that kills... should I stop choosing?"

But Joanna's voice always echoes:

"You will confront Qayin. But you are not him."

This ti, Rui stands tall, as if his soul is transforming amidst uncertainty. He recalls all the symbols etched on his body; the mark of Qayin is not rely a watermark of doom but also a representation of the battle between will and surrender. Within him, a crucial question resonates: Will he be trapped forever in the sa cycle, or will he fight to find a new path?

"You want to possess ."

"You want to be the will that kills, not out of hatred... but out of a desire for recognition."

"But I am not you."

"I am Rui. I was not ford from cursed earth. I was shaped by choices that reject perfection."

Rui rises with a deep breath, pain coursing through every fiber of her being. Her blood reminds her that she is still alive, still fighting. Her hands are stained, a reminder that blood symbolizes life and sacrifice, but it can also be a curse accompanying the mark of Qayin. However, the mark of Qayin on her neck now glows blue, not red; proof that although trapped in the cycle of death and rebirth, she has the power to shape a new spiral direction.

She is not free from the legacy that binds her. But she has chosen not to be a vessel for the curse that would control her fate.

From afar, Joanna smiled at Spiral Beta, watching with hope, as if she knew that the ti would co when Rui would be able to run out of the circle that confines her.

"The child... has begun to walk."