Yet as he advanced, the ground under him crackled. Another swirl of black water seeped up, threatening to re-form that abominable pool.
Realizing Luke was about to conjure more curses, Apollo halted, forging a dark barrier around himself. The cardinal's patience was at its limit, but his caution was heightened by Luke's relentless barrage of eldritch magic.
On Luke's shoulder, Hazel pressed her hands to her temples. She wasn't simply merging with the golden spirit—she was battling the Forgotten Worm, which refused to relinquish its hold. It raked at her mind with vicious fervor.
Scenes from her early childhood surfaced, fleeting images of a man who might have been her father, secrets half-revealed and half-buried. Each recollection jolted her with fresh agony.
I have to push through… she told herself, tears mingling with the rain. I can't let it kill me. I won't let it.