The little black serpent, trembling in Isiah's grasp, slipped through his fingers and scrambled back down his torso to hide against the leather cover of the grimoire.
Isiah had already been contemplating unsealing the tome, so watching the reptile instinctively seek shelter beside it confirmed his decision. The grimoire held the answers he desperately needed.
This time, drawing blood required little effort. He simply raked his nails across the freshly scabbed cut on his left palm, causing crimson droplets to ooze slowly from the raw flesh. Gripping the heavy tome in his uninjured hand, he squeezed a few drops directly over the dark binding to dissolve the seal.
"That hurts so damn much," Isiah hissed through gritted teeth, wincing at the searing pain. "Who is the sick bastard that designed a spell requiring self mutilation every single time?"
