Victory still seems very distant. Even as Vex flings open the door to flee, it’s apparent the polymorphing waves remain in effect. The spellcaster steps outside onto the walkway. A flash of light erupts. Where Vex stood, a peacock now preens, surprised. The bird, its magnificent tail drooping, sheds an iridescent feather onto the brick path before wandering off in the direction of the Quad, its plaintive cry echoing across campus.
On the stairs, Gwyfeyr rages, blinded by Debbie’s spell. Groping wildly, she reaches out and grasps Aurora, shouting the incantation to Vampiric Touch. Dark energy crackles from her fingertips.
Aurora, a dhampir and therefore immune to such things, yawns and murmurs, “That tickles!”
The necromantic spell fizzles harmlessly against her skin.
Hester moves toward the dying Cadorus, trying to staunch the wounds. Blood pools beneath him, staining the water pink. Quentillius strides over, gently pushing her away. “Allow me, Hester!” he announces pompously.
He renders aid with surprising competence. Cadorus’s eyes flutter open. He gasps, “Quentillius, I didn’t think you even liked me.”
Quentillius gestures very obviously at the revived Cadorus, as if underscoring to Hester his brave act.
Hester rolls her eyes.
Cadorus begins to crawl away from the scrum. He moves too close to the broken-out fireplace, allowing the effects of the polymorph spell wash over him. A flash of silvery light flickers, and when it is gone, a clay pot of foamy, opaque liquid rests where Cadorus was kneeling moments before. Even from a distance, Reyna can tell by its yeasty scent—sourdough starter.
⚔
Debbie and Squid make their way through the dank passages. The musician becomes aware of footsteps coming from behind them. “Do you hear that, Squid?” she whispers, slowing to a halt.
The child’s ears are far keener than her own. Squid nods, round-eyed.
The Crown objects, “Nonsense!! That’s just me, humming! Do let’s keep moving. I wish to be away from this dank place. It’s making my allergies act up.”
Debbie puzzles over how one who has neither eyes nor nose can react to mold, but she hushes the Crown and herds Squid into a small side tunnel. She signals that they’ll ambush whoever approaches.
The steps grow closer. Debbie pops out and casts Blindness on the man. He cries out and staggers away from them, hands clawing at his face.
Debbie grabs Squid and they dash down the walkway near the channel, their footsteps splashing in shallow water.
“Carefully!” shrieks the Crown. “You are jostling me. You’re so clumsy!”
They find another tunnel to hide in and get quiet. In the distance, they hear the man bumbling around, crashing into walls. A splash echoes through the tunnels as he falls into water. After a while, Debbie can tell her spell has worn off by the sound of footsteps moving with confidence, approaching them once more.
She passes a dagger to the child. They wait, anxiously. The blade gleams dully in Squid’s small hand.
The man rounds the corner. The pair spring at him, knocking him to the ground. As Debbie struggles to hold him, he shouts, “I yield! I forgo any claim to the Crown of Winter’s Last Dream!!”
Over her shoulder, Debbie grunts, “Squid, get the Rope of Climbing out of my pack!”
Squid unfolds the rope, fingers working quickly. Debbie issues the command words. The rope magically coils around the man like a serpent, wrapping him tightly. Within seconds, he’s completely immobilized.
Whimpering, he snivels, “You wouldn’t leave me here to starve, would you?”
Before Debbie can answer, the Crown snaps, “Yes! He deserves no better!”
“Again,” Debbie tells the Crown, “this is another example of why you upset people.”
“Put me on your head so I can see,” the Crown snaps bitterly. “I mightn’t be so testy if I knew what was going on!”
⚔
The battle seems to be won by the students. Gwyfeyr sprints out the door of the Common Room and vanishes in a flash of polymorphic light. Where she stood on two feet, there’s now a sheep—half shorn, teetering atop four wobbly hooves. The animal pauses to crop a mouthful of the lawn beside the brick pathway that leads to the Quad, seemingly unconcerned with the chaos it just fled.
Within the Common Room, where Greta was only moments ago is a tasseled cushion now floats in the pools of water left in the wake of the battle. Nearby, floats a kazoo that had been Rosie only moments before. It bobs against the legs of one of the scorched study tables, releasing a mournful squeak as the water jostles it.
The transformations seem to continue across campus. Victory remains incomplete as the polymorphic chaos shows no signs of stopping.
