The skyer, driven by desperation, exclaimed in a trembling voice, "I have proof, Xylon Sinclair! But I don't think you'll believe it.
After all, you never met our brother or our mother, and all we have is a single thing that connects us."
Xylon's curiosity flickered, though his skepticism lingered. "What proof do you claim to have?" he demanded.
The skyer, his hands shaking with a mixture of fear and determination, reached for the hem of his strange shirt.
With careful motions, he lifted the shirt, exposing his bare back. Before he could utter a word, Xylon stood in shock. In a swift motion, he walked towards the skyer, a sense of urgency guiding his steps. Without hesitation, Xylon pushed him to the ground to take a closer look at the arcane markings etched into the skin.
Xylon remained in a state of profound stillness, his eyes fixed upon the intricate markings adorning the skyer's back. Time seemed to stretch indefinitely as he stood there.
