The Spell

  “Excellent! Then I shall continue my shield, Your Royal Highness, to ensure your safety,” Virgil replied, weaving more hybrid magic into his hands and layering it into the barrier he’d already built.

  As Virgil worked, Julius remained oddly quiet, his eyes simply staring toward the great, gaping mouth of the pit, and the slow-flapping bird above. It had him transfixed, his fear almost palpable. Even the guards looked down at him with curiosity, having never seen this strange, silent side of him before. Virgil was unusually silent too, his hands twisting and turning as he layered more and more energy into the barrier, reinforcing it. Alex watched him, wanting to know what was going on, but unable to ask. He knew there was something the Head wasn’t telling him, something to do with the third person in the vision Elias had shown him. Was the third person Julius? If so, why was Virgil bothering to protect him with a barrier? The mist would never be able to penetrate such a shield, forged by half-Spellbreaker hands, so having Julius present was pointless. Unless, Alex thought, it just had to be witnessed by the king? Was that the missing link in the spell? Recalling the words of the line he had pored over, it began to make sense. Two sides of a coin—Alex was one side, Julius was the other. Both of them had to be there in order for the Great Evil to be destroyed.

  That was it. Julius had to be present. He had been the missing piece all this time.

  Before he could give it any more thought, however, Julius’s voice bellowed across the cavern, echoing from every wall.

  “Are you going to get on with it anytime soon?” he asked.

  “I am putting the final layer of anti-magic into the shield, and then we will be secure enough to proceed, Your Royal Highness,” Virgil said nervously, doing just that.

  “And you’re certain it’ll hold back any mist?” Julius demanded.

  Virgil nodded. “That amount of anti-magic should hold back any force of magic, Your Royal Highness,” he confirmed, before stepping away, moving toward Alex. “Do you have the book?” he asked.

  Alex couldn’t speak. Instead, he gulped, pulling the tome from his satchel and handing it to Virgil.

  “You will succeed, Alex,” Virgil said softly. “You are scared, and I don’t blame you, but you will succeed where everyone else has failed. I will be here, helping you through. You can do this. I know you do not want to, but that choice has been taken from you. Now, you must do what you have to, to save everyone else,” he continued, never breaking eye contact with Alex.

  “I don’t understand why it has to be me,” whispered Alex sadly. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be born this way. I didn’t ask to be a savior.” Tears pricked his eyes, his teeth gritting as he struggled to force them away.

  Virgil smiled wanly. “Nobody who is a true savior asks for it, Alex. Yours is an honest sacrifice. Your fear is valid, but you must use it now to see this through,” he replied, his tone apologetic. “Shall we begin?”

  “I guess we have to,” Alex whispered, his breathing coming in short, sharp bursts. He refused to break down, though all he wanted to do was shout and scream at the injustice of it all, and have it all disappear in the blink of an eye. But that was never going to happen. He would not break. His head was swimming, his heart was pounding, his vision was blurry, and there was no escaping what was to come.

  Taking the cue, Virgil moved into position, opening the book to lie flat in his hands and holding it up to Alex. It was a simple movement, to place his palm flat against the page, but it felt like climbing Everest. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand and placed it down on the appropriate spot. Everything inside his body screamed at him to run, but he remained rooted to the ground, unwilling to give in to his fears.

  The time had come.

  With a sudden burst of light, the book began to glow, far brighter than it ever had before. The writing on the pages soared upward, twisting in a tornado of words, before falling into line above the mouth of the pit, spelling out the sentences he needed to speak. The glowing letters had faded, their luminescence far paler than they’d been before, but Alex could just about make them out. Whether or not he’d actually be able to open his mouth and speak them aloud remained to be seen.

  Taking a shaky breath, he began to say the words that hovered before him. At first, his voice shook, barely audible to anyone but Virgil. Gradually, however, as he moved through the incantation stanza by stanza, each one disappearing as it was completed and replaced by the next, he settled into the flow of the words, the rhythm calming him. Line after line went by, his voice growing stronger with each one, until he saw only the spell, the looming pressure of his mortal existence fading away into the background.

  It seemed like it was going far better than any of the previous attempts, the air crackling strangely, the atmosphere tense with anticipation. This time it really did feel different, like it might just work. Having learned his lesson the last two times, he hardly dared to think it.

  Finally, the twelfth and final stanza appeared before him. He knew this part well.

  “With the blood of my enemies, I close the circle of pain,” he said, the words sounding strange in his own voice.

  Virgil, with a concerned smile, handed Alex the small vial of blood and watched as he lifted it to his lips, downing the disgusting, viscous liquid in one. It tasted metallic and sour, and it took everything Alex had not to gag. He swallowed it, feeling it ooze down the back of his throat. Wiping his mouth, he removed his hand from the book’s page, looking down to see that the text had been restored. Did that mean it had worked? He didn’t know. But he was still alive.

  Just then, the ground shook violently, rocks tumbling from the walls of the cavern. A great roar like crashing waves erupted from the depths of the pit, battering the eardrums of everyone who heard it. Alex covered his ears, glancing at Virgil, whose eyes were wide in terror.

  “What is it? Did it go wrong?” Julius shouted from his bubble-prison.

  “I don’t know, Your Royal Highness,” Virgil called back. “We must wait and see!”

  “Well, I’m not waiting a moment longer! I must leave this place!” snarled Julius, pressing his palms against the liquid sheen of the barrier in an attempt to shatter it with his royal powers. “Come and break this thing down at once!” he demanded, realizing he was going to need help. Virgil had made it extremely strong.

  The whole cave was shaking. Alex staggered back from the edge of the pit in case he fell in again. Virgil grasped his arm, helping him.

  “Did it go wrong?” Alex asked.

  Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

  No sooner had Virgil spoken than the silver mist shot up from the ground in a roaring geyser of glittering light, but this was like no mist Alex had seen before. The Great Evil had arisen, taking on the form of slender, wispy creatures with feminine faces, their misty hands reaching toward Alex. Moving through the air like liquid, they danced in his direction.

  “Give us your sacrifice,” they whispered.

  Soon, they stood before him, a seething mass of misty faces, their clawing hands grasping at him, sinking their misty fingers deep inside his flesh. The grip of their greedy hands was excruciatingly painful. A jolt of agony tore through his body like a thunderbolt, the pain searing again with every clawing grasp they made. It enveloped him, and the mist consumed his body until he could see nothing but silver. He could feel it tearing at his insides, though he could no longer see individual hands seeking out his life. It was one mass of gripping, grabbing, tearing creatures.

  Dragging air into his lungs, Alex knew he was about to die. The mist was like water around him, suffocating him as it took his life.

  Something tugged at his hand, fingers squeezing his fingers. It wasn’t the mist, whatever it was.

  “With the blood of my enemies, I close the circle of pain.” Virgil’s voice cut through the deadening silence of the mist. Peering through the silver haze, Alex could make out the skeletal man’s figure beside him, lifting the v
ial to his lips, drinking the remnants.

  Alex felt something pull on his other hand, a cold feeling spreading through his arm. Looking down, he saw the unmistakable black vapors of Elias’s hand, grasping his as best he could, given his form.

  “With the blood of my enemies, I close the circle of pain,” Elias shouted, drinking from the old vial that had been used in the second attempt.

  The mist, now utterly confused, swooped between all three, swirling in and around them, engulfing them, grasping and clawing and taking what it could. The pain was immeasurable. Alex and Virgil’s cries echoed around the trembling walls of the cave as wave after wave of pure agony ripped through them. It was never-ending, the pain growing worse with every passing second, the tearing hands of the mist feeling as if they were shredding Alex’s insides. Glancing down, though his eyes were running with pained tears, he was convinced he was fading away, his skin growing translucent.

  Alex knew the end was coming. No person could suffer so much and not feel the warm hand of death upon their face, come to take them away from all the pain.

  Yes, death was close.

  Chapter 28

  Alex felt something tear inside him, like a part of him had been ripped away, the acute searing pain that followed eliciting a scream from his lungs. Virgil gripped his hand tighter, but it was no good—the pain was like nothing he could describe, so unforgiving he could barely catch his breath. It ripped again, feeling like his soul was splitting in two, the sensation so strange and unnatural that he could do nothing but roar through it, hoping it would end soon. In truth, he just wanted it to be over. No thoughts of friends or family could take the pain away, and had they felt what he felt, he doubted they’d have wanted to live much longer either.

  With a sudden jolt, Alex’s eyes rolled back in his head, his world turning inward. Flashes of light disrupted his vision, and, deep inside him, swimming through his veins, he could feel energies moving that didn’t belong to him. The flashes persisted, the blank bursts of light morphing into something else. At first, they were blurry, showing shapes and the vague outlines of landscapes, but then the visions sharpened, becoming fully fledged images, flickering across his eyes like slides on a reel.

  Only, the images didn’t belong to him either.

  A flash of a small boy, running through walled gardens with two friends. The boy was smiling, and the two friends were smiling too, but their expressions shifted a second later, with the arrival of a fourth child. She was older, by the looks of her, with a rock held in her hand. Alex tried to peer closer at the images, but he couldn’t hear a word any of them were saying. Their mouths were moving, but he had to guess the intent. It became clear when the next image showed the small boy on the floor, his forehead bleeding, while the female friend he was with stood in front of the cruel fourth child, raising her hands as if to fight. Alex realized it was Ceres, Hadrian, Virgil, and Alypia when they were kids. It must have been the time he’d heard Virgil and Ceres talk about, when she came to his aid, protecting him from his older sister’s wrath.

  With a jarring flicker, the images moved to those of an older boy, standing at the edge of a pit, tears running down his face, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. All around him, rocks were falling, while silver mist rose in a torrent before him. The next vision showed him fleeing the scene, with the horrified faces of the haven’s inhabitants flashing past, the mist snatching at them, engulfing them, leaving the young Virgil helpless to do anything for them.

  Another image showed Virgil standing in the vile chamber with the dangling manacles, where he had removed the essence of so many students. Only, the man in chains was no student, by the looks of his black cloak. He had a striking face, somewhere between handsome and strange, though it was twisted in a grimace of pain. His piercing brown eyes told of a burning hatred, and his jet-black hair was plastered across his forehead with sweat. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a clean-shaven face, making him look younger than Alex had imagined, though he’d glimpsed him before. That was Elias dangling from the manacles. In the frame that followed, Virgil was reading from a red-bound book, magic twisting up around Elias, though the man was clearly shouting for Virgil to stop. Elias’s magic met Virgil’s, and a billowing black cloud engulfed everyone within the room, including the crouching figure of Derhin, who had sneaked in to watch. When it receded, Elias was the shadow-man, and it was Virgil’s turn to grow angry, having failed again.

  Later, it showed the Head pacing his office, reading a letter from Julius that told him he was to fetch more essence. The skeletal figure sat down in his chair, holding his head in his hands, then tore up the letter and threw it into the trash. Silently, the man wept, his shoulder shaking. On the desk beside him, he looked over a list of names, moving his finger down the line, mouthing the name of every person whose life he’d been made to take. Over and over, he repeated them, not wanting a single one to be forgotten.

  For a moment, the images flashed back in time again, to a much younger Virgil running through the labyrinth beneath Falleaf House. There were two men running beside him, one younger, one older, their eyes set dead ahead. The younger one was clutching a handful of letters. This one, Alex didn’t recognize, but the other, the older man… With an astonishing realization, he knew him to be Malachi Grey. As vile as Finder had been, Alex knew the pair of them had started out on good terms—he had seen it, in their conversation in the grounds of Spellshadow, when Malachi had agreed to let Virgil do whatever he needed to do, to find more essence out in the real world. However, the younger man was of more interest to Alex. Seeing as there were only three of them, Alex guessed it was the younger who had given up his life so Virgil could take the book from the vault.

  More and more images flashed in quick succession, showing moments in Virgil’s life. It seemed the Head’s life had, for the most part, been a stretched-out tale of woe. Despite all the dark memories Alex held of him, it was hard not to pity the man who had been lied to since the day he was born. What chance had he had to be more than what Julius had made him? As more images flashed into Alex’s mind, interspersed with some of his own, Alex realized that the mist was taking some of Virgil’s soul too, the energies mingling inside Alex’s head before being torn away. How it was happening, he didn’t know, but he had a feeling Elias was somehow involved, perhaps acting as a buffering agent and preventing the mist from taking the whole soul from either of them.

  It was a peculiar and painful sensation, having half of himself forcibly ripped out of his body, slicing out of his skin, being drawn through by the clawing hands of the mist creatures. But with the images, the pain faded somewhat. The more that flashed through his mind, the less he felt the agonizing tear of his soul’s removal.

  Still, Alex was ready for it to be over.

  A loud explosion boomed through the cavern, the roof splitting, the rocks cracking all around, the ground rumbling louder than it ever had before. Alex began to panic, convinced this was the final step in the Great Evil’s ploy to free itself. His legs were shaking, his ears filled with the roaring crash of the earthquake trembling beneath his feet.

  Suddenly, the mist cleared, and Alex saw the ground ahead begin to cave in. More images flowed unbidden into his head, but these were not of Virgil’s life, nor his own. They were of the other three pits, their gaping mouths filling with rock and debris as they folded in on themselves, the released mists rushing backward, disappearing back down into the ground, where they could do no further harm to anyone. Parts of the havens were crumbling too, in response to the destruction of the Great Evil. Large cracks ricocheted up the sides of the Stillwater villa, while the roof of the library collapsed at Spellshadow, and two turrets plummeted into the dried-up moat of Kingstone Keep. The tremors rippled through all the havens, showing him the crumbling walls of buildings he’d never even seen. They belonged to old havens he’d never visited, each quake sounding a victory for the spell Alex had done.

  Finally, the flashing images slowed, an
d the shaking ground came to a standstill, just for a while. The whole world twisted away, swirling upward in a kaleidoscope of stretching shapes and colors, like the moment before Storm burst through a barrier between realms. When it snapped back, the world around Alex was a completely different one, though Virgil was still standing beside him, gripping his hand.

  Rolling away to either side was the battlefield where the Great Evil had been created in the first place. Troops of weary mages were standing in clusters, their eyes fixed upon the gallows on which Alex and Virgil now stood. In front of them, Leander Wyvern hung from chains, his burning, silver eyes looking straight into theirs, a smile playing upon his lips.

  “For our people… for my children… for all those who perished,” the great man whispered, before bowing his head.

  As soon as the last word was spoken, the world turned inside out again, the landscape racing sharply back to the pit room with a jolt. It didn’t seem like anyone else had seen them go. The vision of Leander Wyvern was reserved exclusively for them. Regardless, the sight of the great Spellbreaker had made Alex understand what they had done.

  They had completed the spell, and rid the magical realm of the Great Evil. Not only that, but it looked like he and Virgil might just live to tell the tale.

  The only problem was, the silver mist had yet to dissipate. From the quaking ground, the flashing images, the tearing of his soul, and the vision of Leander Wyvern, Alex was almost one hundred percent certain they had achieved what they set out to do, but he could still feel strands of misty energy writhing inside him, flowing through his veins. The Great Evil had been defeated, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

  Perhaps there were more trials still to come? Alex hoped not.