The others gaped at the frightening black hole on Raphael's arm, listening, yet unable to react at all to the Black Prophet's voice that seemed to echo in their ears.
Thales' thoughts lingered on the brand mark and that strange thing on Raphael's hand. Little Rascal clung to his arm, quivering, and did not dare to peek at the black hole.
The grim-faced Wya stood in front of Thales, reaching for the single-edged sword out of instinct. Ralf's facial expression was hidden beneath his half-mask, but his twitching eyebrows said it all.
Eyes wide, Kohen stared at his old friend's bizarre appearance with incredible shock. Miranda, on the other hand, was peering at Raphael's arm. She was breathing unevenly.
"Communication type: Sugar Glider." Raphael seemed frail. Pale-faced, he straightened up, indicated with his eyes for the others to stay put, and said something cryptic to the eerie black hole on his arm.
