The memory made Luke sigh deeply, his brow creasing in exasperation.
He lifted his hand and pressed his fingers against his forehead, as though trying to feel something there. What brushed against his fingertips was smooth skin, with bits of dust that presumably came with the fall.
This mark on his forehead had been the bane of his existence ever since he came into this world.
He had seen it for himself a couple of times, back when he tried experimenting with his magic as a kid. Children were curious creatures, so he couldn't help but marvel at what he could do.
The mark was shaped like a small crescent moon, and it glowed blue whenever he used his magic. Rare were the times when it glowed during moments other than that.
He had been sheltered as a kid, so it took him some time to realize the truth.
What the marks of the color blue meant to this world.
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