The Problems Of The Eighth Earth 5

In that critical moment of peril, Old Meg tapped into a power he had long suppressed. The strict edict of the demons forbidding magi and witches from summoning creatures from the Nether had been deeply ingrained in him, but desperation tore through those constraints. 

His action was reflexive, a survival instinct from his days as a magi. Biting into his hand, his blood spilled forth, crimson against the night, and he began to chant.

The blood seemed to possess its own consciousness, swirling in intricate patterns on the ground in front of Jasper. She, clutching the statue of Saint Lenny Tales, entered a state of deep prayer, her whispers of devotion mingling with the charged air.

Neither Old Meg nor Jasper could have anticipated what happened next. As the dark portal opened, what emerged was not a Nether beast but a man, his appearance rugged and worn from the trials of the Nether.