A Mating of Souls (гет)

The people of Thedas bear on their bodies the mark of the first touch their Soul Mate will ever bestow on them. Everyone must simply wait until the marks fade under the touch of the one they are meant to be with.
Lyna's Soul Mark had never made sense to her, though.
 
In the palm of her left hand was a jagged pattern, like a bolt of lightning. It was darker than the rest of the mark, which didn’t make sense. There were very light, barely-there splotches here and there on her palm and fingers and forearm. Then, across the back of her wrist and hand, was the distinct shape of someone’s right hand. One day, her Soul Mate would grab her hand and angle her wrist. That was the only part of her mark that made any sense at all. Even the color of it was unique.
The fingers that would eventually grip her hand were long and slender. She wondered for what must have been the millionth time if they belonged to a man or a woman. She couldn’t tell, just from their shape. It didn’t particularly matter to her, either way. A Soul Mate was chosen not for their sex, but for their soul.