The urge to reach over and touch him is killing me. I want to help him, comfort him, but I literally can’t. We might be the only younglings to be marked, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t any other people who are loyal to the Dark Lord. I stare at the black stone on my finger, hating it more every second I look at it. It feels like the darkness inside pulses along with my heartbeat, or it has its own heartbeat.