While Elara was steadily learning to control the crimson power granted to her by the entity they had half-jokingly named Sir Demon, Ethan was undergoing just as rapid a transformation of his own.
He also wasn't hiding it.
Whenever they were alone in the basement of the Black Howl, he freely summoned his beasts without hesitation or concern.
"It's not like you can tell anyone," he had joked once, leaning back casually as Spark drifted lazily through the air, its faint glow illuminating the dim room.
Elara had simply rolled her eyes at that, but she watched him closely all the same.
Every day, without fail, he would summon them.
And every day they were injured.
Sometimes it was minor: scratches, shallow bites, patches of singed fur or feathers. Other times, it was far worse: deep gashes. Fractured limbs. Burns that hadn't fully healed.
Once, she had even seen Wolfy limping slightly, its massive frame carrying damage that clearly hadn't been sustained in the real world.
