POV: Vera BlackthorneThe holy tattoo on my arm burned as it faded away.I clawed at the mark frantically, trying to stop the ancient symbols from disappearing. For twenty years, this mark had connected me to The Mother's power. It had given my life meaning, purpose, direction.Now it was just black ink going gray on my skin."No, no, no," I whispered, pushing my hands against the mark. "Come back. Please come back."But I could feel the connection breaking totally. The Mother's voice, which had led me for so long, was gone. The power that had flowed through me was nothing more than a memory.I was alone.Around me, the holy temple where I'd spent most of my adult life was crumbling. Stone blocks fell from the roof as the magic holding everything together failed. Other followers ran screaming toward the exits, their own marks fading just like mine."Sister Blackthorne!" called Marcus from across the falling room. He was one of the younger convert
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