The Corelight is the magic of this world. It runs through everything — the ground, the buildings, the air between people. It has been there for as long as anyone can remember. It is not dramatic or foreign; it is ordinary. As normal as electricity. As taken for granted as gravity. As present in daily life as weather.
Every person who carries a Mark carries a fragment of the Corelight. The Mark appears on the skin between ages twelve and fourteen — a living shape, unique to each person, that glows with the particular color and current of their bloodline. It moves. It breathes. It responds to emotion, to proximity, to other Marks. It is not just an ability. It is a relationship with something ancient.
Sixty years ago, the source fractured. The Corelight that had been unified distributed itself across thousands of people at once. Every Mark since then carries a piece of something that was once complete. The world adapted — schools were built, curricula designed, examinations created. Nobody talked much about what it had been before, because most people alive had never known before.
But the old texts remembered. And the underground chamber that the fracture left behind is still there, still glowing faintly, still waiting.