Annika feels a sinking feeling descend over her at the carnage. She doesn't really want to see it more clearly, but she knows that nothing can be gained from trying to hide from this. The threat had to be dealt with.
She held her right hand out, and lines of slightly red and gold-tinted white began to spider across her palm, as if painted by an unseen artist. The light radiated from the sigil that appeared there blazed brighter and brighter until it rivaled that of a torch.
It was magic, but not a spell...from Annika's perspective it was more about relaxing control of something that was always 'trying' to happen than it was about trying to causing something to happen in the first place. She felt the heat of the mark in her hand, but an even greater heat across her back, where the true brand was emblazoned.
Her breath caught in her throat when the descecrated graves and dismembered bodies were revealed without merciful gloom or shadows.
"We have to find him," she said thickly. "Even if he's dead...we can't leave him here."
(OOC - using one use of the Light cantrip from my Marked trait)