Voldrak pulled his hand away from the sisters' conjoined hands, watching as they separated their palms. To his surprise, the wounds they had inflicted with the knife were no longer visible. In their place, a symbol had appeared, etched into their flesh—two swords crossed and lying against each other. It seemed like an ancient design, one that stirred something deep within him, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't fully grasp its significance.
His brow furrowed as his mind worked to unravel the mystery. 'That symbol,' he thought. 'I've seen it before… but where?'
Before he could dwell too long on the thought, he shifted his gaze back to the sisters, the curiosity still clear in his eyes. "Where did this ritual come from?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with suspicion. "And what was that language you were speaking?"
