[Turning around once the glow settles under his skin, the Darkling picks up his torn and bloody shirt from the table next to him and turns to face Sabriel.]

But there are- mages [The Darkling still doesn't like the word magic nor the implications of it, that it is unnatural and inexplicable. The excuse used to hunt his people down for centuries, because of the fear it invokes] in your world who can manipulate time?

[The newer wounds are healing slowly, but his old scars still stand out pale against paler skin.] Were you born with this power? You mentioned before that you were the last one.