Chapter Ninety-Three: Chaos

  The battlefield was a storm of movement—students rushing in to reinforce, their faces pale but filled with determination. Molly stood near the edge of the fray, her stance unwavering. Her eyes glowed with a strange, almost otherworldly light, and the air around her pulsed with an eerie, cold energy. She lifted her hands, and shadowy tendrils coiled around her fingers, manifestations of Hecate’s power. With a sharp motion, she sent them lashing out, striking at the advancing demons, binding them and halting their progress. Her power was raw, dark, and efficient—yet restrained. She couldn’t go all out, not without risking the possessed students’ lives.

  Nearby, Marcus moved like lightning itself—quick, focused. His shard crackled with energy, arcs of bright blue light jumping from his outstretched hands. He struck demon after demon, the electricity stunning them, forcing them back, but it was clear he was holding back, his attacks designed to incapacitate rather than kill. The lightning danced across the ground, wrapping around demonic limbs -pushing the monstrous forms away from his friends.

  But for every demon they drove back, more seemed to pour in. The tide wasn’t slowing. They were being overwhelmed, hobbled by the necessity of using non-lethal force, their restraint making each victory feel more like a stalling tactic than a real win. The demons kept coming, their forms twisted, their eyes filled with hatred. The students were doing everything they could to avoid fatal blows, but it was costing them dearly. Their faces were lined with exhaustion, and the impact of the relentless attacks was showing.

  Amid the chaos, Jace was getting battered, his body feeling every blow from the outside world as he struggled within Thistle’s corrupted mind. He could feel the hits landing—claws raking across his skin, blunt force pounding against his ribs. His aether worked frantically to heal him, but it wasn’t enough. Each wound was deeper, each bruise more painful, and his vision began to blur as he felt himself slipping under the pressure.

  Blood dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes, his breath shuddering in uneven gasps. He was still reaching for Thistle, still trying to sever the connection, but his strength was fading. The pain from the physical world was breaking his concentration, the relentless barrage making it harder to keep his focus.

  “Jace!” Marcus shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the roar of another demon. He looked back, seeing Jace doubled over, struggling to keep himself upright even as the demons swarmed him, relentless in their attack.

  Molly fought her way closer to Jace, her eyes wide with fear as she saw him stumble. She called on more of Hecate’s power, shadows rippling around her like a protective shroud, her focus entirely on pushing back the demons threatening Jace.

  But the tide wasn’t stemming, and Jace was getting worse. Blood stained his clothes, his face twisted in pain. He was fighting two battles at once—against the demons attacking his body, and against the darkness holding Thistle’s mind. And slowly, it looked like he was losing both.

  Amidst the chaos, two healers found their way to where Jace knelt, battered and bloodied, his focus still desperately clinging to the thread that connected him to Thistle’s mind. They moved quickly, their eyes wide with urgency, both their robes marked with the insignia of the academy’s healing house—a blue crescent moon, a symbol of solace amid turmoil.

  One knelt beside Jace, her hands glowing a gentle, soothing green as she placed them against his back, channeling healing energy into him. Her face was etched with concentration, her brow furrowed as she tried to keep his wounds from overwhelming him. The other stood behind, his eyes darting between Jace and the battle raging around them, one hand extended, a flickering light emitting from his palm. He was doing everything he could to shield Jace and the other healer, a glowing dome shimmering into place when demons or stray attacks came too close.

  “Hold on, just hold on,” the first healer murmured, her voice strained. The glow of her magic pulsed as she sent it through Jace, her fingers trembling from the constant demand. She could feel his wounds fighting back, each healing spell barely keeping up with all the fresh injuries on his flesh. Blood trickled down his face, and she wiped it away quickly, her heart pounding.

  Jace was on his knees, his head bowed, sweat and blood mixing on his skin. His fingers dug into the ground, his knuckles white, every muscle in his body straining as he fought against Thistle’s possession. He could feel the demon’s resistance, the darkness pushing back, but the pain from his physical injuries was making it harder and harder to keep his focus.

  But the heals were only slowing the inevitable.

  Inside Thistle’s mind, Jace was being pulled deeper into the monstrous house, the shadows of its walls shifting and swirling, grasping for him like living creatures. He struggled, feeling the darkness tug at his limbs, his body being dragged toward the gaping maw of the house’s interior. The air was cold -oppressive, pressing in on all sides. He felt as if he were drowning in black ink, unable to breathe, unable to move.

  But then, something else—a spark, a memory, a sliver of moonlight that broke through the darkness. It came from outside, a gift of energy from the healers tending his real body, and Jace seized it, holding onto the light with everything he had. It glowed, silvery and pure, pushing back against the shadows, forcing them to recoil. With a burst of power, Jace ripped free, stumbling forward, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The darkness hissed, trying to close in again, but the moonlight held them at bay, carving a path through the twisted corridors of Thistle’s mind.

  Jace pushed forward, his eyes darting from door to door as he fought his way through the monstrous house. He had to find Thistle—he had to save him from this suffocating darkness. He could feel it, faint but growing stronger—a sense of someone, somewhere deeper within.

  Finally, he reached a door at the end of a long, twisting hallway. It was slightly ajar, and from within came the faint sound of crying, soft and heart-wrenching. Jace pushed the door open, his heart pounding as he stepped inside.

  There, in the corner of the room, was Thistle.

  But he wasn’t the gnome Jace knew. He was just a man now—thin, short, his face streaked with tears. He sat huddled in the corner, his body trembling as he clutched his knees to his chest. His form was ghostly, faded, as if only fragments of him remained—hollow, translucent, like he was slipping away bit by bit, more memory than substance.

  Jace’s breath caught in his throat. This must be Thistle’s true form, stripped of all illusions, of his body in Terra Mythica.

  “Thistle,” Jace whispered, his voice cracking as he stepped closer.

  Thistle looked up, his eyes wide, filled with fear and pain. “You... you shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice shaking, barely more than a whisper. “You should go. It’s too late for me.”

  Jace knelt down, ignoring the darkness that pressed in around them, the twisted walls of the monstrous house groaning as if in protest. He reached out, placing a hand gently on Thistle’s shoulder. “No, it’s not,” Jace said, his voice full of conviction. “I’m not leaving you, Thistle. We’re in this together. I see you. The real you. And you’re stronger than this. You’re stronger than that demon.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Thistle shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I... I can’t fight it. I’ve tried, but it’s too much. I’m just... I’m not enough.”

  Jace’s heart ached at the hopelessness in Thistle’s voice. He tightened his grip on Thistle’s shoulder, his eyes locking with his. “You are enough,” Jace said, his voice low but fierce. “You’re not alone, Thistle. We can do this together. But I need your help. I need you to fight with me.”

  Thistle looked at him, his eyes searching Jace’s face, as if looking for some kind of reassurance, something to hold on to. Slowly, shakily, he nodded, his breath hitching. “What do I need to do?”

  Jace gave him a small, encouraging smile, wiping a tear from Thistle’s cheek with his thumb. “You need to show me where the connection is. Where the demon has you tethered. Together, we can break it.”

  Thistle hesitated, but then he nodded, glancing down at his chest. He lifted a trembling hand, pointing to the darkness that seemed to pulse from his heart, a thick, black chain that disappeared into the shadows. Jace followed the line of the chain, his own heart tightening at the sight.

  “Right,” Jace said, his voice steady, though his pulse was racing. He placed his hand over Thistle’s, his aether gathering, glowing a faint silvery light. “We’re going to break it, together.”

  Thistle nodded, his eyes filled with determination, even if there was still a flicker of fear. Together, they reached out, their hands grasping the dark chain. The demon’s power fought against them, a wave of darkness pushing back, but Jace held on, his grip tightening.

  “Now!” Jace shouted, his voice echoing in the dark space. Thistle cried out, pouring his own strength into the effort. The chain trembled, the shadows around them rippling, and with a burst of moonlit energy, the tether shattered, a flash of blinding light cutting through the darkness.

  The monstrous house seemed to scream, the walls shaking, the shadows recoiling, and then everything began to fade. The darkness broke apart, unraveling, and Jace felt the coldness lifting, replaced by a warmth that spread through him.

  He looked at Thistle, and for the first time, saw hope in his eyes. Thistle nodded, his tears now of relief rather than fear, his form solidifying, the darkness receding.

  Jace gasped as he came to, his consciousness snapping back into his body. The world around him spun for a moment, the chaos of the real battle crashing back in—the distant screams, the clash of weapons, the roars of the demons. His vision blurred before focusing again, and he looked up, blinking the haze away, just in time to see the monstrous form of the demon tearing itself free from Thistle’s body.

  The demon twisted, its dark form unfurling, breaking away from Thistle’s limp frame. Thistle crumpled to the ground, breathing heavily, his body battered and bruised, the corruption still lingering in the edges of his aura. Healers rushed forward, glancing at Jace with hesitance, their eyes flicking nervously between the broken Thistle and the violent creature looming above him.

  “Help him,” Jace ordered, his voice rough from exhaustion. His gaze was unwavering, his tone leaving no room for argument. The healers exchanged a look, reluctant, but obeyed. They knelt beside Thistle, beginning their work to stabilize him, to bring him back from the brink.

  Jace’s eyes shifted back to the demon—twisted and huge, the largest he had faced yet. This demon wasn’t just an ordinary possession—it was a boss, its form much more formidable, a hulking monstrosity of dark energy. Its crimson skin shimmered with a grotesque sheen, and its eyes burned with a malevolent light. It roared, the sound rattling through the battlefield, a vicious challenge to all who dared stand before it.

  The demon lunged, its twisted limbs swinging wildly, sending students scrambling backward, spells and shards flashing in the darkness as they fought to hold it back. Jace pressed his palms into the ground, his whole body trembling, the dull ache in his limbs a constant reminder of how far he’d already pushed himself. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, allowing his aether to flow back to him, to replenish, even if just a little.

  “Jace!” Marcus shouted from the other side, his eyes wide as he dodged the demon’s thrashing strikes. “We need you!”

  Jace swallowed, his vision still blurring at the edges. He forced himself to his feet, staggering slightly before catching his balance. The demon towered above them all, its form blotting out the moonlight, casting a long shadow over the battlefield. His friends were giving it everything they had—Dex leaping in with daggers slashing, Ell darting around it, her blade slicing shallow but targeted cuts.

  Molly saw Jace struggling to regain his aether, the telltale signs of dizziness etched across his face. His shoulders sagged, his movements sluggish. Without hesitation, she rushed over to him, grabbing his arm, her touch firm and insistent. Jace flinched, startled, instinctively trying to pull away.

  “Molly, what are you—“ he began, but she cut him off, her voice calm but filled with urgency.

  “It’s okay. You’re more needed in this battle than I am,” Molly said, her eyes fierce with determination. “We need you out there, Jace. You’re the only one who can end this.”

  Jace began to protest, but before he could, Molly closed her eyes, focusing deeply, and then he felt it—a connection forming. It was similar to the tethering spells he knew, the kind that allowed sharing of gains and harms, but this was different. It was more intense, more raw. As the link took hold, a sudden understanding filled him, like a whisper of knowledge carried through the bond. He felt it—Molly’s Word of Power: Loss. The bond solidified, and her intent became clear as Loss’s Touch flowed steadily into him.

  Jace gasped softly, feeling her aether begin to stream into his body, a gradual and controlled flow that began to replenish his depleted reserves. Warmth flooded his veins, his aether patching wounds, his strength returning, not in a rush but in a steady, sustaining tide. Molly swayed slightly beside him, her face pale, her breath slowing as she kept the flow going.

  “Molly...” Jace started, concern lacing his voice.

  She held up a hand, a small smile touching her lips even as she struggled to stay on her feet. “I’m alright, Jace. I’ll keep this up as long as I can. Just focus on the fight.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with determination. “We need you.”

  Jace nodded, his heart tightening with emotion. There was no time for more words, no time to argue. He turned, catching sight of a nearby student who was fighting off a lesser demon. With urgency in his voice, Jace called out, “You! Guard her—don’t leave her side.”

  The student nodded, eyes wide with understanding, moving immediately to stand beside Molly, his stance protective. Jace lingered for just a heartbeat longer, his gaze meeting Molly’s one last time. She nodded at him, her focus unwavering, and he could feel the steady stream of aether still pouring into him.

  Jace pushed himself up, feeling the resurgence of energy, the vitality spreading through his body. His wounds closed, his strength surged, and his focus sharpened. He felt Molly’s power coursing through him, and it was enough. He was ready.

  With a deep breath, he stepped back into the chaos, his eyes scanning the field for the other possessed students. He could see them—their forms contorted, dark and twisted tethers holding their souls captive. He knew the monstrous boss demon was still there, still a major threat, but these others—the lesser demons—he could handle them.

  One by one, he would cut their tethers and free the students. He moved forward, his aether flaring as he summoned Soul Sense, his hands glowing with ethereal light. He felt Molly’s strength within him, her steady flow sustaining him, and it filled him with renewed determination.

  The first target came into view, a demon fighting Ell. Jace could feel it, the demonic thread holding the creature, binding it. He gritted his teeth, his focus unwavering, and reached out.

  And he activated Soul Sense.

  But as Jace reached out, his attention was suddenly wrenched away from the demon. He felt an unexpected pull, something distant and dim catching his senses. A figure. His focus shifted instinctively, drawn to it, his vision narrowing as he tried to make it out.

  The figure was ghostly, almost translucent, drifting closer. Jace’s heart pounded, his instincts screaming a warning, but he couldn’t look away. It moved with an unnatural fluidity, closing the distance in an instant—until, in a blink, less than a heartbeat, he was right there, inches from Jace’s face.

  The hollow eyes stared into his, cold and unfeeling. Jace’s breath caught, the world seeming to stop for a moment as the pale boy’s lips curled into a smile.

  “Hello, J-j-jason Rolander.”

  The pale boy’s voice crackled out like a poorly tuned radio, every syllable twitching with static, his words halting, jerking in and out of existence. He stood there, slight and frail, eyes blank as midnight, but somehow they seemed to know too much.