Hearing that word—him, again stirred something in Ethan's chest. It reminded him of his mother, who was still fighting desperately for her life. How many battles had she endured by now? His eyes flickered as he pressed a hand to his brow.
"Contract, manifest…"
A dazzling, multicolored hexagram shimmered into being before him.
"Consider yourself fortunate," he murmured. "Someone's pleading for you. Offer your blood essence…"
Before he could finish, a sharp whoosh cut through the air. A single scale on the Dragon of Consumption's neck split open, and a drop of blood—large as a water barrel—burst forth, splattering directly onto the glowing hexagram. In an instant, the colors drained away, leaving only one: deep crimson.
