On the altar, the red moon on Atrox's hand pooled like liquid and flowed together with his blood into the stone surface of the altar, quickly getting absorbed.
Atrox screamed harder because it was as if something was being removed from him—something that shouldn't be touched, something that was part of his being. But he wouldn't let it be taken from him, and even with his pain-filled head, he began to fight back.
Above him, Vorgaelor was sweating because he was using a massive amount of essence to do what he was doing, his teeth clenched. And now, Atrox had begun to fight back.
The image on the wall wavered and flickered, becoming so lifelike it seemed as if those within it would reach out and walk again. A red mist boiled from the image and curled around the altar, glowing with translucent light.
