Mine
he bellowed.
But Magnus wasn’t there anymore.
His body was still standing in front of them, but his mind—his soul—was buried beneath the thing that had taken hold. His lips curled into a snarl, and with a flick of his wrist, the tendrils lunged at them again.
Ron sliced through one with his sword, but two more lashed out in response, wrapping around his leg, dragging him toward the gaping pit of darkness forming beneath Magnus’ feet.
Frederick gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. The pain in his ribs was unbearable, but he shoved it aside. He summoned his magic, his hands glowing with a golden light—so different from the shadows engulfing Magnus.