Wraythe
I was terrified of the water. Not all water, but that water. While everyone else had reached into the pool in our sixth year to watch their marks grow, mine had only changed. Loose, thick, heavy swirls covered the backs of my hands, stopping just above my wrists. Marks of Obligation, Saval had said, but the thickness was more typical for one who followed the Path of Protection. I'd clung to that caveat, hoping it meant something.




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