As I swung my sword, I felt it—a shiver that pulsed through the blade, crackling with an energy I hadn't expected. The boy's slave mark, bound deep into his skin and soul, fractured, a thin crack spiderwebbing across its twisted lines.
My [Flame of Equinox] surged to life, the flickering heat of life and death in perfect balance, coiling around the mark like a predator scenting blood. The flame bit into it, searing and corroding, eating away at the magic's essence as if it were nothing more than kindling.
The boy staggered, a look of shock breaking through his rage as the mark pulsed, weakened, its dark power faltering. Across the room, the Shrouded Whisperer's face twisted in horror, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What… what's happening?" he demanded, his voice a low, panicked rasp.
