by CSyphrett and Martin Maenza
Timothy Hunter stumbled upon a hidden nook by the river, a place shielded by towering trees that hid the rest of the island from view. The rush of the water created a soothing melody, filling the air with a gentle harmony. Sitting on the grass, he took a sip of his chilled drink, contemplating his newfound abilities.
All right, I can freeze things, Timothy thought to himself, his mind swirling with wonder. Not only that, but I did it twice, and the second time was on purpose, too! Surely, with more practice, I can get really good at freezing things. Then I can move beyond chilling soda bottles and fire-extinguisher spray. His imagination wandered, picturing himself soaring through the sky like Superman or darting across the land as swiftly as the Flash. Could magic make those dreams a reality? he wondered, his thoughts drifting back to Mister E and Zatanna, who had left an indelible impression on him during his encounter with them last year. (*)
[(*) Editor’s note: See The Night Force: Night Forces.]
Yearning to fly more than anything else, Timothy set his sights on this lofty goal as the ultimate test, surpassing his current freezing abilities. With great concentration, he delved deep into his reservoir of powers, determined to unlock the extraordinary.
Overhead, an owl circled in the air above him unseen, peering down at him with curiosity.
***
It was fortunate for Rose Psychic that classes ended earlier than usual today. That meant she was able to return to the Clock Tower earlier than expected. As she ascended the tower’s staircase toward the Clock Room at the top, the silence enveloped her, embracing the air with an eerie stillness. Frowning as she opened the door, she scanned the Clock Room, her eyes searching for her missing friend. Where is Abby? she wondered.
“Abby? Abby?” Rose called out, her voice resonating in the vacant space. A curious sight caught her attention — a temporary cane, leaning against the wall. “That’s odd,” she muttered, perplexed by its presence.
Kneeling down, Rose inspected the floor, where a faint mark indicated that something had been skidded across the room toward the blank clock face serving as a portal. A surge of questions flooded her mind. Was this mark here before? she pondered, her mind racing.
Turning her gaze toward the shelves, Rose examined them warily. Abby could have entered any of these portals, she reasoned, considering the potential paths her friend could have taken. Perhaps she returned home? Abby did use the portal with Belmont’s assistance once before.
Shaking her head, Rose dismissed the notion. No, she would have bid us farewell this time. The only reason she didn’t the last time was due to the infection from those spores. And her cane is still here. It must have been an accident!
Contemplating the sea of files before her, Rose recognized the impossibility of finding the specific one without expert guidance. “I won’t take a blind shot,” she vowed, refusing to leave Abby’s fate to chance. “I need an expert!”
Taking out the picture of the spot in which Belmont had entered, Rose rested it on a nearby podium. And as the image materialized into a tangible gateway, she steeled herself and stepped forward.
Emerging onto a forest path, dense with ancient trees, Rose recognized the familiar landscape from the book’s illustration. The castle should be nearby, she recalled, cautiously venturing forward. But behind her outward composure, she remained alert, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As she walked slowly forward, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was lurking nearby.
Hearing a rustling in the brush, she stopped and turned abruptly, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement, but found nothing except an eerie silence. This was no ordinary encounter. Rose knew she had to rely on something beyond her conventional senses.
As she resumed her walk, still feeling a strange presence waiting somewhere nearby, she asked herself, Why does this seem familiar? A memory flashed in her mind from a case she had once worked on with Doctor Occult. The details were hazy, but the familiarity of it all was undeniable. Could this be related?
As the blood-red moon ascended the horizon, a spine-chilling howl pierced the stillness of the night. Rose’s thoughts raced, and her instincts kicked in. A werewolf? she wondered, having dealt with similar creatures back on her native Earth-Two. And here I am without any silver.
The towering castle loomed before her, just across the moat. Suddenly, a yip resonated through the night, and Rose glanced back to see her pursuer at the edge of the trees. Those lambent eyes held an enigmatic message, as if someone was watching over her. Perhaps someone just wanted to ensure I arrived safely at the castle, she mused. Before long, the truth was unveiled before her eyes.
A werewolf emerged from the shadows, gracefully stepping forward and crouching down, awaiting Rose’s decision. As if in response, the ground quivered beneath her feet, and skeletons rose from the earth, forming a solemn aisle leading to the moat. Rose nodded, her resolve unwavering, and began her descent down the aisle. The creaking drawbridge lowered to the precipice, welcoming her approach. With echoing footsteps, she trod upon the old, sturdy wooden plank until she found herself under the protective embrace of the portcullis. At that point, the skeletal honor guard descended back into the mossy ground. So nice for a girl to feel welcome! she thought.
Following the path through the castle’s imposing walls, Rose ventured into the realm beyond, where a fenced manor house stood sentinel. As she approached the gate, its hinges let out a small, whimsical squeak, like a secret whisper. Without hesitation, Rose passed through, only to find herself accompanied by a trio of fearsome, three-headed dogs. Yet their presence felt more like an escort than a threat, guiding her past an exquisite fountain that sparkled with otherworldly beauty.
Now standing before the door of the villa, Rose hesitated. Should I knock or just enter unannounced? she wondered. The vigilant dogs growled softly, urging her to step inside. Enter it is! She placed her hand on the cool doorknob and turned it. The door swung open effortlessly, revealing a grand lobby that seemed to stretch on indefinitely.
As the door closed behind her with an authoritative thud, a figure cloaked in dark robes appeared on the stairwell leading to the second floor. His face concealed, but the scythe he held and the tattered wings sprouting from his back sent a shudder down Rose’s spine. The voice that emanated from him was as dry and cold as the darkest depths of a grave.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, my dear?” the robed man sneered, his words dripping with a chilling malevolence.
Rose swallowed her trepidation, her gaze unwavering as she spoke. “I am in pursuit of a man named Simon Belmont. Have you seen him?”
“Belmont?” the robed figure spat, a mixture of anger and resentment boiling in his voice. “Oh, how I wish I had. I know him all too well, and I have scores to settle with him.”
Regret and concern washed through Rose. It seemed her association with Belmont might just become a liability in this perilous place. Swiftly, she masked her unease and spoke calmly. “I apologize for any inconvenience. I merely intend to catch up with Simon and have a conversation. I shall be on my way.” She took a step toward the exit.
The robed man took a menacing stride forward, and as the flickering chandelier cast light upon his face, it was revealed to be a fleshless skull. “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving so soon,” he decreed, cruelty lacing his every word.
Rose felt a prickle of fear brush against her skin, but she refused to succumb to intimidation. With unwavering determination, she responded, her voice laced with quiet resolve, “I must respectfully decline.”
***
With a concealed grin, the girl strolled through the bustling crowd of her fellow students. Her eyes caught sight of Gallowglass engaged in conversation with someone in Memorial Park. I wonder… she thought, a gleaming curiosity flickering within her, but she quickly pulled herself back, realizing the peril it posed to her true identity. Better avoid those two before either notices my presence, she thought to herself. The consequences of being recognized would be dire, as she had witnessed countless times in past encounters with the one-eyed man. Yet she harbored no interest in engaging in such battles. No, she had far grander plans in mind.
Now, there were only eleven teachers and two-hundred and ninety-nine students left on Grimoire Island. A wealth of targets for her to display her genius upon. Too bad about Mrs. Cable, she thought, having actually liked her. Nevertheless, the victory had come easily, and the satisfaction derived from it surpassed any affection she held for the unfortunate teacher.
Lost in her musings, the girl wandered into the Bestiary, offering a friendly wave to Adam Frankenstein as he dutifully completed his tasks. The gentle giant remained oblivious to any potential danger lurking. Her eyes fell upon an enclosure containing a herd of carnivorous horses. Filled with mischievous intent, she wondered what chaos would ensue if she were to set them free. A wicked smile painted itself across her face. Oh, the potential pandemonium it would cause!
***
Tim Hunter’s concentration abruptly shattered. “Something’s wrong!” he exclaimed, springing up from his seat. His feet carried him swiftly along the path from the creek area. Barely registering his collision with a group of boys from Zatara Hall, he pressed on urgently.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Kirk Pike scolded him.
“Sorry, I’m in a hurry!” Tim blurted, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “There’s danger! It’s down there!” he pointed with urgency.
“And how do you know this?” Gray Murphy questioned skeptically, following Tim’s gaze.
Tim sighed, realizing he couldn’t explain his intuition. “I just do!” he confessed, frustration evident in his voice.
“Oh, I see. So you’re suddenly psychic?” Alfred Twitchell scoffed, disbelief etched on his face.
“Lay off, guys,” Joshua Cantrell interjected, coming to the first-year’s defense. “I believe him.”
Murphy turned to Cantrell, curiosity piqued. “You do? Why?”
The hint of a smile graced Cantrell’s lips as he remembered the moments when Tim had come to his aid since their time at the school began. “I just do,” he replied simply.
“Enough talk,” Pike declared sternly, feeling a sense of determination tugging at him. The Bestiary lay directly in the direction Tim had indicated. He refused to believe it was a mere coincidence. “Let’s go!”
As a united front, the boys set off, disregarding the notion that whatever danger Tim sensed might prove too formidable for a bunch of kids to handle.
As they approached the Bestiary, Kirk called out, “Look!”
The group turned their attention to where he was pointing and gasped as a stampede of wild horses, driven by panic, chased some of the terrified students.
With incredible speed and strength, Adam Frankenstein sprinted ahead, overtaking one of the charging beasts. He skillfully took it down, effortlessly throwing it to the ground. The other horses, if one could call them that, seemed infuriated by this display of dominance.
As the horses closed in on their position, Tim’s mind raced, thoughts of Black, the stallion he had once helped, flooding his mind. He was grateful that his friend was no longer among these monstrous creatures.
Suddenly, Murphy’s voice cut through the chaos. “Hey, prancers, leave those kids alone!” he yelled, drawing the horses’ attention toward them. The horses raised their heads and snorted at the newcomers.
Kirk, showing a mix of concern and frustration, delivered a swift blow to Murphy’s chest. “What’d you go and do that for?” he scolded, aware of the impending danger.
The horses, now agitated, charged toward the group. Like a reflex, Tim instinctively raised his hands, an icy wall forming before them. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of exhilaration, realizing that he had conjured something out of thin air. His friends looked on, impressed by his abilities, especially considering Tim was two years younger than them. However, their joy was short-lived.
The lead horse, filled with indignation at being thwarted, reared up and viciously kicked against the ice barrier. Fractures appeared, threatening its stability.
“We need to tranq them or something!” Kirk shouted urgently, his eyes scanning the surroundings for a solution.
“Okay, guys,” Josh, the most knowledgeable among them, began, addressing his fellow third-years. “Does anyone have any offensive spells committed to memory?”
The three older boys grinned, eager to put their limited magical knowledge to practical use. They knew this was their opportunity to shine at Nommo Hall.
With a united determination, the four boys focused on Josh’s command. On the count of three, they released their spells. Sparks crackled and danced from their fingertips, except for Alfred, who stumbled back after a failed attempt. Tim quickly caught him, making sure he was okay.
Their combined effort landed a powerful hit on the flank of the most relentless horse. It crashed to the ground, motionless and defeated.
Curiosity gleaming in his eyes, Tim glanced at Alfred. “Petrification spell,” the heavy-set boy explained. “It won’t last long, but it buys us some time.”
The three boys wasted no time, their aim now set on the next target. With another precise volley of spells, the second horse fell, crashing down with equal force. The rest of the herd, sensing danger, retreated back into the safety of the Bestiary.
***
Rose Psychic stood at the top of the grand staircase, her heart pounding in her chest. The sight of the robed skeleton with his scythe sent chills down her spine. Simon Belmont was nowhere to be seen. She closed her eyes and tapped into her mystical training, searching for him in her mind.
As Death, the winged figure, hurled the scythe toward her, Rose quickly raised her hand, and a strange, shimmering disk materialized in front of her. The scythe shattered into countless smaller versions, zooming toward the teacher. With skill and precision, the disk flew through the crowd of swirling razors, obliterating them in its path.
But Death was cunning. He swiftly soared above the shield, one bony hand snatching his scythe effortlessly as it circled back to him. Undeterred, Rose stepped closer to the edge of the staircase, determination etched on her face. Death gained altitude, preparing to unleash a devastating attack. Rose’s hand shot up, and the Symbol of the Seven filled the air around her, its power swirling and crackling.
With a fierce desire to protect herself and defeat her foe, Rose watched as Death’s scythe sliced through the air, leaving behind a vibrant green trail. The weapon collided with her shield, causing both to shatter into a dazzling display of fragments. Without hesitation, she leaped into the air, swiftly striking Death’s head with the edge of her hand. He tumbled out of the sky, crashing into the central staircase with a resounding thud.
Rose landed gracefully on the ground, spinning to face her fallen adversary. Death, however, was not one to be easily defeated. He raised a bony hand, summoning a portal in the shape of a circle. Peering through the wormhole, Rose saw a monstrous fish with gaping jaws, hunger evident in its eyes.
Reacting quickly, Rose dived to the side, narrowly avoiding the jagged teeth of the grisly green fish. Pain seared through her leg as she landed in a crumpled heap on the hard wood floor. Each movement sent fiery waves of agony shooting up her leg, leaving her temporarily immobilized. Meanwhile, the fish slithered into another portal, disappearing from sight.
In that moment of vulnerability, Death extended his hand, the scythe forming within his bony grasp. His sinister smile stretched across his skeletal face, chilling Rose to the bone. “Game over,” his voice echoed, the words dripping with malice, as he prepared to deliver a fatal blow.
But before Death could strike, a harsh voice pierced the air from behind the flying skeleton. “New player,” the voice declared, with a hint of defiance. A silver whip cracked through the air, landing a merciless blow across Death’s skull as he attempted to turn. The force sent the demon crashing into the railing of the second-story balcony.
Simon Belmont emerged from the staircase, his feet stomping down on his enemy, pulverizing the wooden remains beneath him. Rising to his feet, sword gleaming in his hand, he swiftly plunged it into Death’s vulnerable form, pinning him to the ground. With a determined flick of his wrist, Belmont extracted a vial of water and smashed it against the demon’s body. The landing erupted in blue flames, causing Death to scream in agony until he was reduced to nothing but ashes, consumed by a sudden vacuum.
Rose Psychic let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, relief flooding her senses. Simon Belmont had arrived, saving her from certain doom.