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leaped up around him, anchored by the stones.

Bobby could barely see the clan now through the flickering flames. He wanted to cry out for help, before realising Simone had said to drink the moment the flames appeared. Trying to ignore the nearby inferno, he brought the skull to his lips and started gulping down.

The potion tasted like acid and burned his throat. A choking sound of revulsion escaped his lips, before he forced himself to continue. The skull dropped from his shaking hands once he’d drained it and he struggled to stand as his vision swam. He could no longer tell where the flames started and he began. Judging by how his throat felt, he had swallowed a few flames too.

Bobby hunched over as his stomach spasmed. He heard Simone saying something, but her words were muffled to his ears. It felt like a giant spider with

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razor-tipped legs was scrambling around inside his stomach. He fell to his knees, his chest suddenly cold, as if his ribs had been encased in ice. He couldn’t breathe. His flesh was burning hot, but his insides were achingly cold.

He was suffocating.

An explosion of adrenaline roared through him, whilst panic pierced his heart.

The potion hadn’t worked. Warren had been right. Being a druid wasn’t meant for him. The agony was too much. This was it. He was going to die.

Chapter Eleven- The Ire of Iyffidin

Bobby was very faintly aware that Simone and Mo were shouting. Through his blurred vision, he saw the two of them leave their places behind the stones and try to reach him through the fire.

“Let him be!” Dreg warned them off.

“But he’s not gonna make it?” Simone yelled.

“We don’t know for sure. He definitely won’t if you break the circle.”

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His body was wracked with pain, too much for Bobby to handle. He wanted to die, just to be free of the suffering. He sagged to his side, his face hitting the ground as he took what he believed to be his final breath.

Ah his cheek touched the cold ground he felt the earth whispering. He could no longer see his surroundings, but his mind’s eye travelled deep beneath the stone instead. He could feel the insects below ground, and then went further, hurtling towards the earth’s core itself.

The agony melted away as his body was filled with a strange thrum of energy. His mind’s eye shot back up through the earth, back to him. Bobby saw his own body as if it was suffused in a golden glow, and then he was back, his vision normal.

The flames died out and the pain stopped. He lay, blinking stupidly and panting raggedly.

His body was heavy with exhaustion and drenched with sweat, but he laughed despite himself. The surge of power filling him made the pain a distant memory.

“He did it,” Simone laughed joyously, running to him at last and pulling Bobby to his feet to hug him tight.

Mo and Niamh cheered, and Bobby saw Dreg smile sagely. Even Lana looked mildly pleased. Warren’s expression was strangely unreadable, neither happy nor enraged.

“I knew you’d make it,” Mo clapped him on the back.

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“No you didn’t,” Warren snorted. “You and Sim would’ve broke the circle and doomed him if Dreg didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Well, it looked a bit sketchy there for a sec,” said Mo sheepishly.

“Are you okay?” Simone asked, gazing into his eyes.

“I, yeah, I am now,” Bobby gasped in relief. “That was like a rollercoaster, but more painful, but I feel really good now. Like I can do anything.”

He felt something like the rush of adrenaline, but even stronger, pounding through his body. He reckoned he could leap ten feet into the air if he wanted, or punch a hole straight through one of the walls. He felt invincible.

“Can I… can I do magic now?”

“Yep,” said Mo. “Soon as you pull your wand from the wall. It’s just through here.”

Bobby followed him down a tunnel only wide enough for two. His lips still tingled from the potion and his heart seemed to beat just that little harder than before. The cave wasn’t so dark now and he could smell and hear things that he hadn’t noticed before. It was like all his senses had doubled in strength.

“What’s happened to me?” he rasped.

“Your inner-druid has been unleashed.” Mo turned back to him as they walked, smiling from ear to ear. “That feeling you have right now, like your whole is vibrating, is because you’re standing so close to the Earth, its magic is filling you.”

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Bobby somehow understood perfectly. It was like his feet were connected to the cave floor. He didn’t think he could stand the power if he was to walk barefoot across the stone.

“It’s not usually like this, I’m afraid,” said Lana, following close behind.

“Out in the real world we live in buildings above the Earth, further away from the magic source. But we’re stronger whenever we stand on grass, water, or dirt, anything that isn’t man-made.”

Simone reached round her neck and pulled the leather cord, revealing a lone pebble dangling on the end. “When we’re really far away, like if we had to use spells on a plane or in a skyscraper, we have these.”

“You er, throw pebbles at your enemies?” he ventured.

“Not quite.” Simone smiled brilliantly, making his heart thump a little extra.

“We can store magic inside the stone. Like a reserve, since our spells barely work if we’re say, fifty feet above the ground.”

“But that doesn’t explain why I feel so…strong,” said Bobby. “Or like I can run faster than I ever could before. Like my body is indestructible.”

The natural high had whooshed over him. Bobby reckoned he could dive off a building and walk away without a scratch, like he could take on the whole word.

“Because you are,” Dreg replied. “You’re thrice as strong as the average human now, thrice as fast, and thrice as durable.”

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“You’re joking?” Bobby said, noting that Dreg’s use of the word thrice was the least bizarre thing about his current situation.

“Oh, Dreg never jokes.” Mo and Simone shared a grin.

“So, I’m like a superhero?” Bobby muttered, looking at his hands like they didn’t belong to him.

“Nah, we can’t fly or shoot lasers out of our eyes,” said Mo, “actually, there’s probably spells for that.”

“Such a geek,” Warren snorted derisively at Bobby. “This isn’t a comic or a cartoon, eejit. We aren’t heroes who always save the day at the last moment.

We die just like everybody else, usually a lot more gruesomely.”

“He’s right,” said Niamh.

Simone had probably been about to tell Warren to stop, but closed her mouth as she looked at Niamh. It was a sobering thought, and Bobby’s high started to dwindle.

“C’mon,” Simone said instead. “We aren’t done yet.”

“Don’t tell me I have to glug another disgusting drink?”

“No, this is simple,” said Mo brightly.

The tunnel ended at a fork and they took the left path, but not before Bobby caught a glimpse of the right path. The walls were coated in black moss and at the very end of the tunnel was a red glow. Unease slid down his spine.

“What’s through there?”

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“The altar,” said Niamh grimly. “We don’t go there. This grove was used by the first druids, those who performed animal and even human sacrifice for their spells. But the altar hasn’t been used in centuries, and never will be again.”

She said it with such finality that Bobby knew not to question it further.

“What’s that?” Lana said suddenly, staring at a narrow passage to their left hallway down their tunnel.

“I heard it too.” Dreg held his wand ready.

Bobby strained his ears as the druids around him all pulled out their wands and he shrank behind them. Finally, he heard the eerie rustling, accompanied by a strange gasping sound. He had no idea what kind of animal could make that noise, but it filled him with terror.

The rustling and ragged breathing contorted to an inhuman scream as the creature appeared. It looked like a woman draped in brown rags. A hood obscured her face, but Bobby could see a skeletal jaw hanging by a scrap of sinew. Her hands were skeletal and her whole body was suffused with an emerald glow as she limped toward them.

“Wraith,” Warren roared.

“I’ll trap it.” Simone was already tracing her wand across the ground.

Bobby jerked away from the wraith as she came near, backing up until the wall stopped him going further.

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Warren leaped to meet the monster, slashing his wand like a sword and yelling, “Silren.” Flecks of silver flicked from his wand to splash on the wraith, hissing as it burned her. The monster didn’t back down, however, slashing with her skeleton hands. Her bird screech melted into a howl that echoed off the stone as Warren evaded her blows, leading her forward.

By now, Simone had completed her spell, a purple brand the size and shape of a car tyre on the ground.

“Herd the old hag into the trap,” Lana cried, directing Niamh and Mo as they moved behind the wraith as Warren kept its attention. Niamh and Mo cried Silren too and more silver flecks burned the wraith, before fizzling away, only hurting her in the short-term.

Warren grunted in pain as he failed to evade the wraith’s next swipe and her fingers sliced right through his shirt, slicing his bicep deep. The wraith struck again rapidly, this time aiming to slash Warren’s throat. He reared back at the last second, before jumping over the trap spell.

The wraith’s howl cut off and she froze the moment she stepped onto the trap. Dreg moved to her, murmuring, “Ultranor.”

A beam of orange light spewed from his wand like a laser, straight into the Wraith’s heart. The spectre shuddered before literally melting into a pool of green slime.

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Silence pressed in on Bobby’s eardrums, the only sound was everyone’s heavy breathing.

“So, that’s one of the nasty ghosts we have to deal with.” Simone patted him on the shoulder, chuckling.

“You guys are more like ghost busters than wizards.” He shook his head in wonder.

“What the hell was a wraith doing down here?” said Lana.

“Our Otherworld gateway appears to be drawing more supernatural activity than normal,” Dreg observed. “What with this and the Shade Zander banished.”

“Yeah, just one evil spirit a month is normal,” said Mo. “For us anyway.”

“What was that thing you did?” Bobby stared where the trap spell had been.

The purple brand had gone, leaving behind only a scorch mark.

“Some ghosts can’t be hurt by normal weapons,” said Simone.

“Or fists,” Mo added. “On my first ghost hunt I made the mistake of punching him. My fist went right through the ghostie and my hand was cold for like a week afterwards.”

“It was not.” Lana sighed. “You’re so melodramatic. Either that or your pain threshold’s appalling.”

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“Yeah well, at least I don’t try to get off with ghosts,” said Mo. “Unlike some people.”

Lana gasped in outrage. “Hey, that headless

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