“Okay, where was I? Right. So, about like…. Four hundred years ago or something, a seer had a vision. A prophecy. Blah blah Chosen One. Blah blah, savior of the supernatural. The details aren’t all that important except that a warrior was chosen from each clan to form the Chosen One’s circle of protection. And each generation since then, when one guardian passes on, another is chosen.” Henry lifted his arm and held out his wrist. He had a mark there, almost like a tattoo, of two concentric circles. “I’m one of them. These marks appear when we’re chosen. Your friend is a guardian, too. And
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