DESTROY THE BOY, THE OLD One commanded, and the two soldiers took aim.
Barely able to think, Fort threw his hand out toward the men and shouted, “Phon t’cor!” The soldiers’ bodies instantly turned ethereal, and the weapons fell out of their insubstantial hands to the floor.
The Old One hissed. WHAT SPELL IS THIS? IT WAS A MISTAKE TO ALLOW YOUR KIND MAGIC, WHEN YOU WERE SERVANTS. YOU BETRAYED US AND TOOK THE POWER FOR YOURSELVES.
A tentacle swept out over Fort, and he tried to dodge but couldn’t move fast enough. The tentacle just hovered over his head, though, then retracted. What had it done?
WE WILL NOT ALLOW HUMANITY THE POWER TO REBEL THIS TIME, the creature said, and launched a different tentacle at him. Fort managed to sidestep it, but it sliced through the sleeve of his uniform. A second one snaked toward him, and he knew he couldn’t avoid them all.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to. All he needed to do was cast Ethereal Spirit, and . . .
And the spell wasn’t there.
Fort gasped as a tentacle cut into his shoulder, sending lightning bolts of pain up and down his body. “You . . . you took my spell,” he gasped, falling back against the floor.
YOU ARE A CHILD PLAYING WITH FLAME, the creature said, pulling its tentacle free of Fort. Then it slowly rose higher in the air—Sierra with it—as the two soldiers collapsed, unconscious. YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THE TRUE POWER OF MAGIC. The Old One glanced upward, and a magic missile slammed up through the floors above, all the way up through the building, revealing blue sky above. NOW, IT IS TIME TO GATHER AN ARMY TO SERVE US. THOSE HERE SHALL DO FOR A START.
Fort fell back against the wall, writhing in pain from the wound in his shoulder. He quickly healed himself, gritting his teeth as the Old One and Sierra continued to rise through the room. He couldn’t just let them go, but what choice did he have? The few spells he still knew didn’t seem likely to help, and anything he cast, the creature could apparently just steal right from his head. Was it using Damian’s Telepathy spells, just like when Sierra had stolen Jia’s spells for him?
Sierra! Fort looked up at the floating girl, her eyes covered in shadow. If only she was free, her magic could push the creature out of Damian again, just like he’d seen her do in her memories of six months ago. But how could he free her without using mind magic himself? If only he had some spell that could heal someone’s mind, or . . .
Wait a second. Headaches. Jia had pointed out that healing a headache was dangerous, because the magic would restore the brain to a previous point, and could wipe out memories.
What if it could also wipe out magical possession?
“Hey!” Fort shouted, pushing off the wall and waving his uninjured arm. “I’m not done with you yet!”
The Old One paused in its flight and turned its skull-helmeted head back to Fort. YOU ARE OF NO CONSEQUENCE.
“That’s probably true,” Fort said. “But I know someone who is.” Before the creature could take another spell from him, he launched himself at Sierra, the words to Heal Minor Wounds on his lips. He had more powerful Healing spells available, but he didn’t want to restore her mind to months or years in the past and cause her to forget all of her magic, too.
“Mon d’cor!” he shouted, reaching out for Sierra’s foot with his hand.
But the Old One was too fast. Its tentacles intercepted Fort’s hand before he could reach Sierra, and the Healing energy dispersed into the creature instead. Fort’s momentum crashed him against one of the hospital beds, but he pushed to his feet immediately, figuring the Old One would try to wipe this spell too.
But instead, the Old One shrieked in agony. And where the creature’s skull helmet had been, Fort saw Damian’s human eyes staring back at him for a brief moment.
But the tentacles quickly reappeared, and the creature took control once more.
PAIN, it screeched in Fort’s head, which felt like it would explode from the force of the creature’s distress. YOU KNOW CORPOREAL MAGIC? YOU HAVE NO IDEA OF THE POWER YOU HOLD.
What kind of magic? And Healing magic . . . hurt it? Or did it just feel pain from being pushed out of Damian, like Fort had hoped would happen with Sierra?
Either way, this was something he could use.
Fort held his hands up toward the Old One in what he hoped was a threatening manner. “That’s right,” he said, bringing Heal Minor Wounds back to mind. “I know, um, corporeal magic. And if you don’t let her go, I’ll use it on you again!”
The Old One shuddered at that, then sent several tentacles flying over Fort’s head. He jumped for the nearest one, ready to cast his Healing spell on it, but the tentacles were too quick, and Heal Minor Wounds disappeared from his mind.
YOU HAVE HURT US, the Old One said, and the force of its anger sent Fort to his knees. FOR THAT, YOU SHALL SUFFER YOUR WORST FEAR.
Out of nowhere, images of the attack in D.C. began playing through Fort’s mind, and he froze, fear and rage filling him. This had to be the Old One’s mind magic. But why was he searching Fort’s memories?
YOUR GREATEST PAIN SHALL BE INFLICTED ON YOU ONCE AGAIN! the creature shouted.
When he looked up again, though, the Old One and Sierra had both disappeared.
“No!” Fort shouted, pushing back to his feet. “No! Come back!” He slammed his fist against the bed, then again, screaming in frustration. This was all his fault! If he hadn’t forced Sierra to wake up, none of this would have happened. Dr. Opps had been right the whole time.
Now the creature had to be using its mental powers on the rest of the school above. He could already hear shouts through the hole the creature had made, and what sounded like explosions. Would the Destruction students or the soldiers be able to stop it?
Not if they didn’t know its weakness. Healing magic could hurt it, but right now, only Fort knew that. He had to tell someone. There might still be time!
Fort leaped across the nearest bed and ran to the door of the hospital room, only to stop as the entire room shook. Shook in a familiar way.
Almost like a truck had just passed by.
Fort froze, terror flowing like ice water in his veins. Could the Old One have . . . ? No. He was just paranoid after reliving the memories a moment ago. It couldn’t—
A second tremor sent Fort crashing to the floor. Bits of the ceiling and the floors above began raining down through the hole the Old One had created. Something slammed into his back, and he groaned, then quickly scrambled under one of the nearby beds to avoid getting hit.
“No,” he whispered, hiding his face in his arms and squeezing his eyes shut as the building shook around him. “This can’t be happening. Not again!”
As the quake intensified, the floor jumped beneath him, tossing both Fort and the bed into the air. Fort landed hard on his healed shoulder, but even that pain didn’t cut through his fear. The entire building felt like it was collapsing around him.
Could this be another dream? Another one of Sierra’s memories?
A giant black claw exploded through the floor beneath him, throwing the bed against the nearby wall as a second and third finger rose up around him.
A roar echoed up from below, just like the one he’d heard in D.C., and in his nightmares ever since the attack.
And then the creature closed its enormous clawed fingers around him, and just like his father before him, Fort was pulled down into the depths.