MEADOW'S POV.
The old man, whose name I still didn't know, slowly circled Killian.
His fingers never touched the mark on Killian's neck.
He simply observed it.
Every once in a while, he would close his eyes, place his hand over the mark, and chant in a language I'd never heard before. Then he would open his eyes and frown deeply at the mark.
It had been going on for what felt like forever, and I was starting to get anxious.
The room was so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat.
Marshall stood beside Killian with his arms folded.
Nobody dared interrupt.
Finally...
The old man stopped.
His eyes remained fixed on the mark.
Then he sighed.
"I was afraid of this."
Killian frowned.
"Afraid of what?"
The old man looked at him.
"...This mark cannot simply be removed."
Silence.
