Chapter Ninety-Two: Uninvited Guests

  “Alice?” Jace’s voice came out unsteady, concern lacing his words. “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on something over his shoulder. Jace turned, and his stomach dropped.

  A few dozen students were doubled over, their bodies writhing in pain. It was a gruesome sight, their skin darkening, shifting as if something beneath was struggling to burst free. A sickening, cracking noise filled the air as their forms twisted—half-demon monstrosities clawing their way out from within, yet somehow stuck in an incomplete transformation. Grotesque, horned heads pushing through skin, limbs breaking into twisted shapes.

  Jace felt a rush of dread wash over him, an overwhelming wrongness that he couldn’t believe he’d missed until now. Just a moment ago, everything had seemed fine, normal even. Now, it was like stepping out into the void, every sense screaming at him that something was horribly wrong.

  Around them, the rest of the students were frozen in shock, confusion etched on their faces as the scene unfolded. Panic spread quickly, and then someone acted—shards started flashing to life, and beams of magical energy began flying toward the possessed students.

  “No!” Jace shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. He surged forward, pushing his way through the crowd, waving his arms to get everyone’s attention. “Stop! Don’t hurt them!”

  He could see Dex and Ell already moving, the urgency mirrored in their expressions. Jace’s heart pounded as he did a quick soul sense, his consciousness reaching out, touching the souls of those writhing before him. Relief—cold and fragile—bloomed in his chest. The students were still there. The demons hadn’t killed them; they were being used, twisted into unwilling vessels. This was so early in the possession process that the students’ souls were still intact, still resisting.

  “If we kill them now,” Jace said, more to himself than anyone else, “it could be the end for them.” He turned to those around him, his voice gaining strength. “Nothing lethal! Subdue them—I can separate them!”

  He wasn’t sure how he’d manage it, not with so many—but that didn’t matter now. They had to try.

  Alice, Dex, and Ell sprang into action, rallying the other remaining students. It was chaos—students shouting, dodging, confused and scared. But they listened. Jace’s friends guided them, herding those who weren’t possessed away from danger and surrounding the half-demon students. Luckily, they vastly outnumbered the possessed, and despite the chaos, they managed to contain them without lethal force.

  Jace’s head spun, the energy around him nearly unbearable, but he had no choice. They couldn’t let those demons win—they couldn’t let them take his classmates, his friends.

  He calmed his thoughts and focused, as the others worked to hold the possessed students back. This was going to take everything he had, and he still wasn’t sure if that would be enough. But he had to try.

  Taking a slow breath, he began cast Soul Sense, reaching out, feeling for the demonic presence within each possessed student. The connections were tangled and dark, threads of corruption snaking deep into their souls. But he found them. He was getting quicker at this, each link lighting up in his mind like a dark beacon.

  One by one, Jace followed those threads, and with each one, he cast Soul Severance. He could feel the drain, the pull on his aether, but something in him was recovering faster—his reserves refilling more easily than before. He knew it was because of the Society; the boost they granted him made all the difference. He moved from student to student, slicing through the bonds that tethered them to the demons.

  Each time he severed a connection, the demon burst forth, splitting violently from the student’s body. The student would collapse immediately afterward, unconscious, their aether depleted, but their vitals stable. Jace checked each one quickly, his heart pounding in his ears, relieved every time to find they were alive.

  The demons that came out were smaller than the ones in the forest, their red skin glistening with an oily sheen, their eyes gleaming with malice. Their claws were sharp as knives, slashing out at anything that got too close, their movements erratic and vicious. The students who were still capable of fighting would converge on the freed demons, working together to bring them down, spells and weapons striking with practiced precision.

  Jace moved from one possessed student to the next, repeating the process over and over, his body aching with exhaustion, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He severed connection after connection, demons being pulled, clawing and screaming, from the bodies they’d taken hold of.

  And then he heard it—the screams from outside, distant but unmistakable. His heart sank, his stomach twisting into a knot. The rest of the students... the ones who had gone outside...

  “They don’t know,” he whispered, panic rising in his throat. He turned, his eyes wide, staring toward the doorway. “They don’t know not to kill them.”

  His gaze locked with Alice’s across the chaos, and he saw the realization dawn in her eyes, the same dread mirrored on her face. Without another word, Jace pushed through the crowd. He had to get to them before it was too late. Before they destroyed what could still be saved.

  Dex, Ell, and Alice moved with him, the four of them forcing their way through the panicked crowd, pushing toward the source of the screams. Jace’s thoughts were racing, every beat of his heart filled with urgency. They had to stop it. They had to save them—before the demons claimed everything.

  Ell barked orders at the remaining students, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the chaos. “Subdue the demons! Don’t kill them!” She moved through the room like a whirlwind, directing their efforts with precision. Shards flashed as magic surged, Affinities sparking to life in bursts of light and power. Even the ghosts got involved, swirling around the demons, phasing in and out to distract them, making it nearly impossible for the demons to land a solid hit.

  “Get the demons into the bathroom!” Jace shouted, pointing to a nearby door. He chose the location almost at random, but he knew every room in the manor had a locking mechanism now, part of his recent defensive upgrades. But none of it was enough—not against real threats. Not yet. There were no guards, and no magical missile defenses strong enough at the Bronze level. He wished he’d managed to upgrade faster, somehow, something more.

  He glanced at his friends—Ell, Dex, and Alice—each of them nodding, and together they headed for the doors, moving with purpose. They had to get outside.

  As soon as they stepped into the night, the scene exploded before them in pure pandemonium. The cold night air was filled with screams, the stench of something unearthly carried on the breeze. All across the campus grounds, grotesque half-demon forms lurched through the shadows, monstrous and twisted, their eyes glowing in the dim light.

  “Over there!” Alice shouted, pointing ahead.

  Jace’s gaze snapped to where she indicated—a group of students struggling to pin down one of the possessed. Vines were wrapped around its limbs, holding it in place, while another student raised a blade high, about to strike a killing blow.

  “No!” Jace yelled, but they were too far away. He saw the electricity surge before he saw Marcus—an arc of lightning that shot across the space, crackling with power and stopping the student’s blade inches from the demon’s neck. Marcus rushed in, his eyes wide, his voice urgent.

  They arrived just in time to hear Marcus finishing, his words breathless but firm. “They’re still in there. The students—they might still be in there!”

  Jace nodded, moving quickly beside Marcus placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right. The possessions haven’t fully taken over. We need to subdue, not kill, until I can separate them.”

  The students around them hesitated, uncertainty in their eyes, but Jace stepped forward, his voice steady. “Trust me. We can still save them.”

  They were near the waterfall of Aphrodite, its rushing water glistening under the moonlight. The goddess’s presence was palpable—statues of her likeness that normally decorated the area had come to life, their stone forms animated, standing guard. Aphrodite herself was there, her eyes blazing, her face a mask of determination. She held a weapon now—an ethereal, shimmering spear, something both beautiful and deadly, fitting of a goddess of love turned protector.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Jace turned, his gaze fierce, his voice loud enough to reach those nearest. “Do not kill the demons! The students are still inside. We have to get them out first or...”

  The weight of the scene bore down on him, though—the reality of it. They were too late for many. Bodies lay scattered across the grounds, students who had either fallen to the demons or been killed by their own, mistaken as monsters beyond saving. It twisted something inside Jace, a deep sense of failure clawing at him as he took it all in.

  “There’s too many,” Marcus said, his voice strained. “Too many in too many different places. We can’t warn everyone.” He shook his head, frustration evident. “I’ve been trying, but they just—“

  Jace clenched his fists, his heart hammering as he looked around at the chaos, the shadows moving between flashes of light, his friends battling alongside him. He knew Marcus was right. The sheer number of them—the scattered confusion, the desperation—there was no way they could reach everyone in time.

  Jace looked around, his eyes scanning the terrified faces of the students they had just stopped. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his own nerves, and spoke with urgency. “We need to draw all of them to us. Everyone. We have to pull their attention before they get to the others. Does anyone here have a tank ability? Something that can pull monsters, make them focus on you?”

  The students exchanged uneasy glances before one by one, they shook their heads. Jace’s heart sank.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I hate to say this, but we need Thistle.”

  Alice looked at him, concern etched in her features. “Jace, are you sure?”

  “Careful what you wish for,” a voice rasped, echoing from the darkness. It sent a chill down Jace’s spine, and they all turned, their eyes widening in horror.

  From the distance, charging toward them, it emerged—a towering figure, grotesque in its twisted glory, a fusion of demon and something else. Thistle. He wasn’t just transformed – he was a nightmare made real, warped into a monstrous giant. Dark energies pulsed and radiated from him, his skin shifting between crimson and shadows, as if he couldn’t decide which horror suited him better. His eyes blazed with a burning, corrupted light, the aura around him almost suffocating, its malice so palpable it made the earth beneath him tremble.

  But it wasn’t just the monstrous presence that caught Jace’s eye. It was the ring—Marcus’s brass ring. There it sat, wrapped around one of Thistle’s grotesquely enlarged fingers. The same ring Marcus had thrown away, hoping to forget, yet somehow, impossibly, it had found its way here, to Thistle. It had been intended for Marcus’s father, one of the founding members of the inner circle of Excelsior—a symbol of legacy, of purpose. And now it was here, in the hands of a monster. But this didn’t seem like a typical demon’s prize. No, it carried an air of something different, something intended for a far more significant purpose.

  “You!” Thistle roared, his voice twisted into something monstrous and guttural, every word a snarl of fury. The sound was like shattered glass, splintering in the air, filled with agony and rage. His burning eyes locked onto Jace, their crimson glow intensifying, his hatred boiling over.

  “You think you’re so amazing, don’t you?” he sneered, his voice cracking with bitterness. “Poor little Thistle, eh? Teased, hurt, looked down on!” He took a step forward, the ground beneath his weight splintering, each word spat out like venom, the raw emotion in his voice clawing at the air. The fury twisted his face into something almost human for a moment—something vulnerable beneath the monstrous rage, and then it was gone, swallowed by darkness.

  Jace’s gaze shifted back to the ring, his heart pounding in his chest. That ring wasn’t just metal. It was intention, power—meant for a founder, meant for someone far more important than any demon or brute. And now, it had somehow found Thistle, feeding his rage, his hatred, transforming it into something far beyond ordinary malice. There was more at play here—something deep, dangerous, and disturbingly deliberate.

  Jace flinched at the words, feeling each one like a physical blow.

  “Poor Thistle,” Thistle continued, his voice mocking, vibrating with fury. “Couldn’t get his rank up. Had to retake the year. Poor Thistle, with his uncle gone missing.” His eyes blazed with a sudden, twisted light, his lips curling back in a snarl that was more beast than human. “We know what happened to his uncle. We know who took him. Who hurt him.” He spat, his voice full of spite. “It was you. You and your friends.”

  The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Jace’s heart pounded in his chest, a chill running down his spine. “Thistle!” he shouted, his voice desperate, cutting through the dark echoes of Thistle’s rage. “That’s not you! You have to fight it! This isn’t you!”

  The demon laughed, a bone-rattling, hate-filled sound that seemed to make the darkness grow thicker. Thistle’s twisted face contorted further, his body trembling with the force of his rage. “Poor little Thistle?” the monstrous voice screamed, the echo of its roar tearing through the void like a thunderclap. “Not so little anymore!”

  Jace braced himself as Thistle lunged at him, the weight of the demon’s fury bearing down like a tidal wave. Anger, resentment, and a twisted sense of betrayal lashed out from Thistle’s corrupted soul. It wasn’t just the demon’s power—it was Thistle’s pain, his loneliness, his anger, all amplified, all unleashed without restraint.

  “Thistle, listen to me!” Jace yelled, stepping forward, even as the monstrous form swung a massive arm at him. He could feel the heat, the hatred radiating off Thistle, like the air itself was burning. But Jace held his ground, his voice unwavering. “This isn’t you. You know me. You know who your real enemies are!”

  “Get ready!” Jace yelled to his friends, his voice almost drowned out by the roar that erupted from Thistle’s monstrous mouth. The demon half of Thistle surged forward, its massive limbs tearing into the earth as it moved, every step shaking the ground.

  Molly, Alice, Marcus, Dex, and Ell stood in a line before him, their faces set with determination. Molly stepped forward, her eyes meeting Jace’s, steady and unwavering. “Do what you have to do, Jace,” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “We’ve got your back. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Keep him distracted!” Jace shouted to his friends, his voice full of a determination that belied the fear gripping him. “I’ll get him freed.”

  More demons, drawn by the sight of the hulking monstrosity and the noise of the battle, began charging toward them, their snarls echoing through the night. Marcus turned, his eyes widening at the approaching swarm. “We’ve got incoming!” he shouted, urgency rippling through his voice as he braced himself, ready for the onslaught.

  They sprang into action, charging to intercept the monstrous Thistle. Dex led the way, his daggers glinting as energy surged around him, his body a blur of movement. He darted forward, aiming low, slicing at Thistle’s legs—small, precise cuts that barely scratched the surface but were enough to irritate and enrage the giant. Each strike was like a needle, aggravating Thistle further, his roars of fury growing louder as he turned his attention toward Dex.

  Ell followed, her agility allowing her to dance between the giant’s swipes, landing blows that were designed to disrupt and confuse rather than wound. Alice’s magic surged, barriers forming in midair to shield them as Marcus moved in with arcs of lightning, trying to slow the creature’s movements.

  It was a chaotic whirlwind of power and desperation. Thistle swung his enormous arms, crashing through barriers and leaving deep gouges in the earth. The noise was deafening—the roar of the creature, the shouts of Jace’s friends, the crash of energy meeting force. Dex ducked under a massive swipe, rolling to the side, while Ell leaped over another attack, barely avoiding the monstrous hand.

  Demons flooded into the fray, a chaotic wave of snarling, twisted forms. A few brave students, alongside the animated statue of Aphrodite, fought fiercely, doing everything they could to hold the line. The stone figure of Aphrodite wielded her ethereal spear with fluid precision, striking down demons with grace, while the students, their faces a mix of fear and determination, battled tirelessly beside her, trying to keep as many of the creatures at bay as possible.

  ***

  Jace took a deep breath, focusing his senses, blocking out the noise of the fight. He had to trust his friends. He stepped forward, his hand raised as he cast Soul Sense, the familiar pull of the magic reaching out. He could feel it—Thistle’s soul, buried beneath the darkness, a flicker of light amid the demon’s fury.

  He closed his eyes and stepped in, his consciousness diving into the chaotic storm of Thistle’s mind.

  Stepping into Thistle’s mind was like walking down a long, empty suburban street. The world was dense with a stifling stillness, the kind that settled in places long abandoned. Houses lined the road, each one dark, the windows hollow, the doors ajar as if someone had left in a hurry and never returned. There was something deeply unsettling about the scene, an eerie echo of what had once been a thriving place now left to decay. Jace could feel the weight of loneliness pressing down on him, a pervasive sense of hopelessness that made every step feel heavier.

  He moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the darkened doorways, searching for Thistle. He could feel his presence here, somewhere close, but this place was a maze, each shadow deeper than the last. Jace approached one of the houses—a towering, monstrous structure at the end of the street. It loomed over the others, its shape twisted, the angles wrong, like a nightmare version of a familiar home. He knew, somehow, that Thistle was inside.

  The door swung open as Jace approached, and he stepped in, the air shifting immediately. The darkness inside was alive, the walls shifting, and suddenly, they lunged at him. The house itself came alive—floorboards snapping up like claws, walls bending inward, trying to trap him. He was slammed against the wall, his breath leaving him in a painful rush.

  Jace struggled, the tendrils of darkness wrapping around him, pulling him deeper, tightening their grip like cold, unyielding iron. He fought back, trying to summon his strength, his aether flaring, but the house’s hold was relentless. The shadows closed in, pressing down on him, the cold, suffocating, and Jace felt his own will faltering, his body giving in to the crushing force.

  “Thistle!” Jace screamed, his voice echoing, raw with desperation. “Thistle, I need you! Fight this! You have to fight!”

  The darkness seemed to pause for a moment, the house’s grip loosening slightly as Jace’s words echoed through the emptiness. He didn’t know if Thistle could hear him, but he had to try. He had to keep pushing, even if it meant everything.

  Outside, the battle raged on, a relentless storm of chaos. More demons were charging toward the noise, their monstrous forms lit by the flickering glow of magic and fire. Attacks were breaking through the defensive lines, slipping past the shields and barriers, hitting Jace’s real body. Pain shot through him, his aether responding instinctively, tugging at his reserves to heal the damage, the drain almost unbearable.

  He could feel it, the pain from the outside world bleeding into this space, the desperate cries of his friends battling to keep him safe. He had to succeed. He had to free Thistle—not just for his own sake, but for everyone still out there fighting.