Lassim's heart was anything but calm, his eyes darting between the rogues as they eagerly awaited Kierlan's next call for another to step forward and accept the mark.
Before he did something drastic to escape, his fingers slyly slipped into the hidden pouch on his belt and touched the silver trinket, the tiny disc Vaela had given him before this entire mission began. It was to be used to signal if things had gone south—a last resort. And now, as Kierlan's beady red eyes scanned the group with anticipation, Lassim knew that the time had come to use it.
He couldn't risk being marked like the others. He had seen enough in the way Gareth and Selira had changed, their natural elements still in the process of being corroded by the shadowy night elemental and beastial power that Kierlan had infused into them.
Whatever the Horned-Rat's Favor was, it was no simple gift. It twisted the very core of a person, warping them into something closer to the Nevaks.
