Van Leon's fury was a cold, simmering thing that threatened to boil over. He stood in the quiet of the Grand Library, the ancient leather-bound tome, "The History of the Dark Stone," splayed open on a low table before him. He had been through every page, tracing every line of text, but found nothing.
The mark on his neck below his jaw, a twisting black tendril, burned faintly. It was a brand he had never seen, an effect that was not listed in any known text about the dark stone. He had always believed the black mark was an effect of his dark stone, but not a cursed mark. This book, the very history of its power, did not contain a single entry on a mark like his, the book was useless for his research.
