SPIRIT MAGIC IS THE MOST powerful of all the types, in some ways,” Cyrus said quietly, tired after fighting against the fog of the book of Spirit magic. “And it has a greater hold on the wielder than any other kind, by its nature. Humanity just can’t control it, Fort. No one has been able to. Even King Arthur fell victim to its charms eventually. But that doesn’t mean you still couldn’t use it to stop the war—”
“I don’t want to use it!” Fort shouted. “I thought that I’d be able to stop before, but look at what that version of me just did! Look at what I did! How do you know I’d stop this time, when I didn’t here?” He gestured at the spot where his future self had stood.
“Because now you know what’s coming, like you said back in the cottage,” Cyrus said. “So you can prepare yourself.”
“Can I?” Fort shouted. “Future me just used Spirit magic on a friend, and was about to use it on three more, including one who hated the very idea of it, not to mention you. What kind of monster does that?” He gritted his teeth, not able to wipe the memory of Ellora agreeing with everything he said out of his mind. “I know I wanted to do good, and I still think all those things would help the world. But right now, it just all feels so wrong, so disgusting!”
“You stopped a war and saved countless lives, Fort,” Cyrus said. “No matter what you did, that was a good thing—”
“But to do it, I took away people’s free will!” Fort shouted. “I put them through the same thing Rachel went through with the Old Ones. Did you see their faces, how they all looked at me?” He thought back to Damian bowing to him and how he’d liked it at first. “How far do I go, Cyrus? What comes next? You can see it, can’t you? Tell me.”
Cyrus looked away. “You don’t want to know.”
“No, but I need to,” he whispered. “Show me. Please, Cyrus. Please.”
Cyrus sighed, and Mount Rushmore changed to what looked like a throne room, one covered in red wallpaper and velvet curtains. Buckingham Palace, the same spot Damian had burned down in another future vision.
And there, in one throne at the end of the room, an older Fort sat with a crown on his head looking incredibly lonely. Chad, Bryce, and Sebastian all stood by his side, but clearly under his Spirit magic from their expressions.
As for the rest of his friends, they were nowhere to be found, Spirited or otherwise.
“You take over, Fort,” Cyrus said at his side, as Fort just stared in horror. “You’ve got good intentions, but too many people try to stop you, and you can’t resist the magic. So you take over everything. You name yourself king and eventually turn on everyone, friends and enemies alike, until it’s just you alone.”
“This can’t be real,” Fort said, staring at himself with the worst disgust he’d ever felt.
“It is,” Cyrus said sadly. “You protect all the people of the world, but only by making them follow your every order.”
Another wave of bile hit Fort, and he almost threw up. Whoever this version of him was, he couldn’t let him come to pass. He couldn’t allow any of this to happen!
But if he didn’t use the magic, that left only one other way that they knew of to stop the war: sending his father out of time. And he couldn’t do that, either.
As of right now, though, he couldn’t stand to watch his future self as king, not for one second longer. “I can’t look at this anymore,” he whispered. “Take us back.”
Cyrus immediately reversed time back to Mount Rushmore, and as the awful scene disappeared, Fort balled his fists and tried to slam them into the ground, only for his hands to pass through it. Why did this have to be so difficult? Two impossible choices: one that left the world completely under the control of magic, the other taking his father away from him forever. Why did it all have to be on him? Was it so wrong to want his father back?
But no, he had to save the world from a war that was his fault, in a lot of ways. And to do that meant either losing his father or becoming someone awful, almost less than human.
What good would it do to keep his father around if his dad had to see him like that, adored by the most powerful people in the world not because he’d earned their respect, but because he’d forced them to? Alone, friendless, and ruling a world that didn’t have any choice in the matter?
You’d never do that, Forsythe, he heard his father say in his head. You’re not that person.
No, he wasn’t. Not until he used the Spirit magic.
And if Fort had any choice in the matter, he never would be that person.
“So what will you do?” Cyrus asked him finally.
Fort slowly pushed to his feet, not looking at his friend. “I’ve seen enough. Take us back to the present. I can’t do this. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I can’t use Spirit magic.” He choked a bit, then swallowed hard.
Cyrus nodded and closed his eyes. And then they immediately flew back open.
“I can’t get us back,” he said, his voice on the edge of panic. “Something’s stopping me.”
The fear in Cyrus’s tone cut through Fort’s depression enough to catch his attention. “What? What could be stopping you?”
Cyrus gave him a wide-eyed look full of terror. “I think someone froze our bodies in time.”
“Indeed, my friends,” said another voice, and a third person appeared, just as translucent as they were.
They turned to find a familiar-looking boy in a black hoodie with the same color hair as Cyrus.
“Someone did, in fact, freeze you,” William said with a smile. “Perhaps it is time we engaged in a quick conversation?”