Warlock Ch 410. Quite Shower
Both of his arms were now wrapped in twisting sigils—some jagged, others smooth—glowing faintly in an otherworldly blue under the enchanted bathroom light. They curled up his shoulders, branched across his chest, and trailed down his spine like flowing script etched by magic itself. They weren't just marks—they were proof. Each one was tied to a contract, a servant, a power sealed or earned. The more he bore, the stronger he became.
He stared at them for a long moment in the mirror, his reflection half-obscured by the steam curling through the air.
He huffed and stepped into the shower.
The hot water hit him hard, rushing over his shoulders and down his back, turning pink at his feet as blood and grime slid off his skin. The last traces of the alley, the fight, the city's filth swirled into the drain.
But the sigils?
They didn't wash away.
Of course they wouldn't.
