"Look at your marks."
Kael stared at his arm in the bunker's dim lighting. The silver thread on his skin that barely glowed throughout his life now pulsed like a heartbeat. Around him, other Common Blood refugees rolled up sleeves and pushed their hair to examine their own bloodline seals.
"Mine's burning," whispered an elderly woman.
"So is mine," said Jorik, holding up his thin wrist.
The bunker's white lights began shifting. Deep crimson shone through the illumination as wall runes activated. Ancient symbols carved centuries ago suddenly functioned like living circuits.
"What's happening to us?" asked a middle-aged man clutching his daughter.
The crimson light increased to blinding intensity. Then darkness.
Complete silence except for breathing and heartbeats echoing off stone. In the black void, their bloodline marks provided the only illumination - dozens of silver threads creating constellation patterns in the dark.
