Over the next few hours, as they journeyed towards the Teeth of the World, Blake practiced whenever they stopped to rest. He worked on increasing the density of his constructs, on maintaining multiple forms simultaneously, on pushing the range of his control.
The others watched with a mixture of awe and unease. Randal, in particular, seemed conflicted.
At evening, as they sat around the campfire, Randal finally spoke up. "Blake," he began hesitantly, "I've been thinking about your abilities."
Blake tensed, unsure of where this was going. "Yes?"
Randal took a deep breath. "I was wondering... have you ever considered using them for more than just fighting? I mean, with that level of control over blood, you could potentially heal injuries, maybe even cure diseases."
