Azrael's POV
*****
"I saw these… dark sigils across my arms. They pulsed with magic that wasn't quite mine and felt… wrong."
Those words from Celeste still haunted him after all these hours. He stood in front of a mirror in his room, arms behind his back and glasses taken off.
The others may not have a clue what those dark sigils meant. But he did. Gods below, he did.
And if it was what he suspected... It would explain why Celeste suddenly felt different since she fainted. He didn't know how to describe it but there was this familiar aura around her now.
"It all makes sense now," he muttered, jaw locked. "Those sigils link her to the Vein. This is what the High One has been anticipating all these years."
The Vein.
He and his kin might be one of the only beings in existence with any substantial knowledge of the Vein and its chaotic magic.
Because centuries ago they were cast into it alongside the High One...
.
.
France, 1255 AD
