Page 59 of Board Games and Broomsticks

‘Druids. Always sticking their noses where they don’t belong.’

Alaric let out a pained grunt. ‘And you’re as arrogant as the stories say, so I guess neither of us are much of a surprise.’

Morven’s eyes narrowed, and before Nyssa could ready a binding spell of her own, the warlock flicked his wrist in a gesture that sent Alaric flying through the air, his body making a sickening crack as it slammed against a gnarled oak tree and slipped to the ground.

The sound was enough to numb Nyssa’s growing panic.

‘Air and earth, I request your aid,

Come forth and be my blade.’

Nyssa whispered the words quickly, her magic pouring from her fingertips. A surge of wind whipped through the spring, gathering leaves and branches together to form a sword. It swung towards Morven, sending a blast of magic that caused him to skid back a few paces. It was nothing like the strength of his blow, but it was enough to incapacitate him long enough that Elowen could send her vines towards him, their speed increased by whatever melody Liora had switched to in order to assist.

A blur of movement in the fog had Nyssa preparing for another attack from one of Familiars’ cursed figurines, but it was just Nyx, her ear bloody and a limp in her step as she lunged herself at Morven. The imitation Nyx jumped from the warlocks arms, colliding mid-air with the real Nyx with an awful howl. Nyssa had no time to see if her familiar was all right, however, because Morven was already cutting through Elowen’s vines with his magic as if they were nothing more than bits of string.

‘By strength of mind,

Your power I bind!’

Nyssa cast the spell Morven had tried to use back at him. It held the warlock for barely a second before he managed to shake it off, another mocking laugh rumbling from his chest. ‘Pathetic. It’s no wonder your coven kicked you out.’

Nyssa snarled and recast the spell. It held a little longer this time, giving Elowen’s vines time to wrap around his calves, and for a second, Nyssa thought they had him.

But the fog surrounding the grove began to gather around Morven, thickening until Nyssa could barely make out the sharp lines of his silhouette. Elowen’s vines withdrew, writhing and half-rotted, and Nyssa only just had time to shout a warning as the warlock sent one of the tainted vines towards her, Elowen and Liora.

‘I beseech the ancestors, to lend me their aid,

and summon Earth, Air, Water and Fire to form this blockade.’

Nyssa instinctively cast the shield spell that she had perfected over the last few months, but Elowen and Liora were too far away from her for the spell’s protection to reach them, and by the time she’d summoned enough power to cast again, it was too late. The vines had found their mark.

Elowen and Liora both let out pained grunts as the vines hit them in the stomach, knocking them to the ground. The vine that had been sent towards Nyssa ricocheted off her magical barrier, hitting it so hard that it fractured around her like glass. Nyssa hurried to cast again as the vine reared back, but it was far too fast: her own magic had barely had enough time to recover before the vine coiled around her stomach, forcing the breath from her lungs.

The air rushed by her as Nyssa was dragged through the fog and towards Morven. Distantly, she was aware of Nyx yowling. Of the hiss of the cat from Familiars.

Stop, she begged Nyx, praying her familiar would hear her. Run.

But Nyssa knew Nyx wouldn’t. That for her master, she’d fight until she couldn’t any more.

And so Nyssa would, too.

It didn’t matter that Morven was somehow even more powerful than when she’d faced him with her coven behind her. For Nyx, for her friends, she would find a way to take him down.

Even if it meant going down with him.

The vine stopped moving when Nyssa was just inches away from Morven, releasing its hold just enough for Nyssa to be able to speak.

‘This is … between us, Morven,’ she rasped. ‘Leave my friends out of it.’

‘Your friends tried to help you imprison me for all eternity. They deserve every ounce of pain I plan to inflict upon them if you do not give me what I want.’ He paused, his magical hold on her tightening. ‘You will bring me the Hawthorne grimoire, Nyssa. If you don’t, I will kill your friends, and then everyone in your little town.’

For as long as Nyssa had known him, the warlock had always appeared in control, from the way he held himself to the perfectly coiffed curls of his dark blond hair. Now, though, he looked dishevelled: his hair was loose, his eyes wide and bloodshot, and the hand he held up to control Elowen’s vine held the faintest tremble.

‘You can’t handle more power, Morven,’ Nyssa managed to rasp out. ‘If you absorb the magic in the Hawthorne grimoire, it’ll be too much for your body. Eventually, it will consume you.’

Morven’s laugh turned bitter. ‘There you go, underestimating me again. It’s a good job I never tire of proving you wrong.’ The vines around Nyssa tightened their grip.

‘You can … try and force me … to give it to you,’ Nyssa rasped around the sudden tang of copper in her throat, ‘but it won’t change the fact … that I’m right … and the Morven … I knew … knows that …’ There was the faintest glimmer of fear in Morven’s eyes as her words landed, and the vines holding Nyssa ever so slightly loosened their hold. She’d failed him once. Given up on him when perhaps she should have tried harder. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. ‘He’s … still in there. I know … he … is. I can help you—’