Alex removed the silk scarf wrapped around his neck and reached up to touch his neck, where the rough skin of the mark lay dormant. The strange lines of the birthmark protruded beneath his fingertips, carrying a faint warmth that did not belong to a normal body temperature.
He had experienced a similar feeling before, and a vivid memory rushed back.
It was when he was twelve years old, the fateful night he was driven out by the Church of the Goddess of Light.
He remembered that it was a gloomy day, extremely gloomy; heavy black clouds pressed down so low that they seemed to touch the roof of the church, completely obscuring the light of the stars. The suffocating, stark atmosphere signaled that something ominous was about to happen. The rumble of thunder echoing from afar kept repeating, like the growling of a wild beast prowling around the cold stone walls.
