"But why does it hurt, if they're not supposed to feel any pain after the ritual?" Joey asked, cradling his son in an attempt to calm him down.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Arlet shouted as she appeared in the doorway. "What's going on?"

"Everything will be okay, sweetheart," Joey replied tenderly. "Your brother isn't feeling well. Why don't you go to the kitchen and ask Antonella to make breakfast?"

"Okay, Mommy," Arlet replied, kissing her brother on the forehead before taking the hand of Aryana, the youngest, and leaving with her.

"Don't worry, Joey. He'll be fine," Fátima assured her, placing a hand on the mother's shoulder. "The mark must have an important meaning in his life. We'll find out later."

"You're hiding something…" Joey whispered, without taking his eyes off Fátima's face—he knew her too well not to notice when she was saying more by her silence than by her words.

"What do you think it is?" asked Desmond, standing next to his son, closely examining the mark that had just appeared on his skin. Drac, for his part, already looked serene, as if his unease had completely vanished.