Forty-seven years.
That's how long Zankeil had been the guardian of the summoning grounds. And in all that time, if there was one thing he'd learned, one lesson carved into his bones—
In summoning grounds, never ever doubt your instincts.
It didn't matter what they told you. Listen to them, and follow them.
And so, when he felt the shift in the air, the strange pull in his chest, he didn't hesitate.
"Boy! Pass your mana into the circle....
NOW!" Zankeil roared.
Samuel flinched. He hesitated for a second, then nodded and placed his hand forward.
A thread of deep, pitch-black mana flowed from Samuel's hand and touched the golden glow still spinning in the giant summoning circle.
And then…
Something strange happened.
The circle split right down the middle.
On one side, it blazed with brilliant golden light—pure and holy, like the sun itself had blessed it.
