The Summoner choked, tears mixing with blood, until his head fell to the side.
Blood trailed down.
Then, the slabs began to glow.
The five streams of blood—infused with the essence of Azrael, Beltharion, Lilithis, Mothiree, and Azazel—hit the floor.
With a hissing sound like they were on hot steel, the blood began to glow with a sickly, vibrant emerald light, racing along the intricate carvings of the circle like liquid fire.
The Priest threw his arms wide, standing amidst the carnage, his robes soaked in the blood of the elite.
He began the chant, the words twisting his tongue, syllables that were never meant to be spoken by human vocal cords.
The circle formed by the tip of the slabs created a perfect cylinder of light that connected to the eye at the center of the seal.
RUUUUUMBLE.
The underground cavern groaned.
This was no mere tremor; it was a shift in reality. Rocks fell from the unseeable ceiling, crashing into the dark void, but they didn't hit the ground.
