The white-clothed stranger was gone. For several seconds, Rin remained completely still. The forest had returned to silence.
Only the sound of the horse breathing nervously broke the quiet. Rin slowly lowered his hand.
The strange symbol on his palm was still there. It glowed faintly beneath his skin before disappearing again.
Eryndor stared at it. Then at Rin.
"Does it hurt?"
Rin shook his head.
"No."
Eryndor reached for his own hand. His mark was still visible. Unlike Rin's, it looked darker, almost burned into his skin.
"The stranger said you have the same mark."
"Not exactly."
Eryndor frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Rin hesitated. He couldn't tell him. Not about Aelion. Not about the voice that had been speaking inside his mind since he arrived in this world.
No one could know. So Rin simply looked at his palm.
"I don't think mine is the same."
Eryndor watched him carefully.
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know."
