Cassian's throat bobbed with a hard swallow.
He could feel it—Ethan, in this moment…
His presence, his power, that overwhelming pressure radiating from the Dragon God bloodline—
It was all far beyond anything Cassian could match.
Even with four bloodlines fused inside him, he didn't stand a chance.
His eyes flicked sideways, a cold, sinister thought flashing through his mind.
"If that's how it is… then they can all die with me."
Slowly, he reached down to his waist and pulled out a silver whistle.
It had an ancient design, etched with intricate celestial runes that shimmered faintly.
He blew.
A sharp, piercing screech tore through the sky.
And then—
The heavens split open.
Cracks ripped across the sky like shattered glass, and from them, figures began to fall—one after another.
A dozen or more.
Their wings, scales, even the color of their dragon tails—nearly identical to Cassian's.
Each one bore the same chaotic fusion of four bloodlines:
