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She had, quite literally, poured her very soul into these tattoos. And as a result, Asad was a far more durable servant than just about anyone else in his age range. They had saved him time and again, most recently at Dunehall during the battle with the Marauder of Calthos.

Having them inscribed into his flesh, however, had been the most torturous thing he had ever experienced. And at the age of thirteen, he hadn't been prepared for it at all. Apparently, his mother had to do it before he became a servant, else the tattoos would disappear whenever the regeneration was invoked.

He hadn't understood that very well, back then, and he'd resisted his mother every time she wanted to continue the process. He'd thought it was some kind of punishment. It certainly felt like it.

Eventually, he grew so terrified of it that she resorted to anesthetizing him before each session. That had been a major improvement, as far as he was concerned, though he still had lingering pain for days afterwards.

And once the tattoos were finally completed, it was a tremendous relief. His peers in school looked at him differently but not in a bad way. If anything, they seemed to think the tattoos were cool. It wasn't until after becoming a servant and realizing he had the divine materialization of silicon and oxygen that their behavior began to change. In retrospect, though, perhaps the tattoos had played some sort of role there, too. They certainly made it more difficult for him to blend into a crowd.

His mother had tried to do the same for his brother Haqq, but she hadn't been able to finish his.

She died at the age of thirty-three, when without warning, her reaper released her soul and disappeared.