A mark, pulsing faintly on your forearm. It hadn’t been there yesterday. Or maybe it had—but now it burned. “You feel it, don’t you?” The voice came from the shadows behind a broken boxcar. Smooth, low, edged with something old. Kaelen stepped forward, boots splashing through shallow water, his cloak shifting around the gleam of emerald scale just visible beneath his collar. “That weight in your chest. The heat behind your eyes. The dragon in your blood is waking.”
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