The battle between Ivy and Ian was over before it started. Ian opened his eyes feeling the throbbing aches of a hangover pressing on his head and without having had the pleasure of alcohol. All he recalled was Ivy coming towards him and then a black mist. Ian attempted to rub his aching head and found he was shackled to the floor. He was kneeling with his wrists cuffed thick chains ran from the cuffs to the floor. He was also in the center of the complex arcane circle he’d first spotted upon entering the lab. This cannot be good, Ian thought.

Ivy was ignoring him completely. He went about his work examining the tapestry of various circles and runes covering the floor. With one hand he directed several objects from shelves, a skull, a still-beating heart, a giant eye. Each one settled around Ian.

Ian returned the sentiment ignoring Ivy in favor of finding Anders. The disfigured mass that had once been his partner was still in the shadowed corner groaning as the lightning arced between the pillars. Ian turned his head away pained that he couldn’t do anything to help him. With no other moves, Ian took a play out of the superhero manual; he engaged Ivy trying to bait him into a revealing monologue.

“Why are you doing this?” Ian asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ivy replied, facing Ian after he finished placing a blackened human skull. “I needed you to flush out the Order of Brass for me. More specifically, your friend. Ban, I believe you call him?” Ivy watched as Ian’s face battled between anger and confusion and his cheshire grin returned. “Yes, that’s his name Ban’Koliath. He is far more important to the Order than any of you fools seem to realize. And when I found out about your appearance in Paragore, I was certain that the Order would jump at the chance to disrupt my plans. It was a simple matter of playing the pieces right which I always do. It appears you’re as bad at the game in life as you are on the game board, Ian. Such a shame, I’d hoped for more.

“Though your companions are proving to be more of an annoyance than anticipated,” Ivy continued, “therefore, when I am finished here, I will see to them myself.” Ivy picked up a vibrant green vial from the table and moved to another circle where he poured the contents over it. The rune inside absorbed the liquid and changed color from purple to the same vibrant green as the concoction. “Excellent,” he said while tossing the vial away to shatter against the wall.

“Besides which, I need the magic from your world for… reasons you couldn’t possibly understand. And you are going to get it for me,” Ivy explained as he applied various ingredients to the mixture of the spell. “You see this world has a finite amount of magical energy as do all worlds. And as vast Paragore’s supply may be, it still means that I can only grow so powerful; can only do so much,” He paused, contemplating for the briefest moment, “so, I need more. And after hunting for almost a century I found an untapped source. Your world, Ian. Earth.”

“What are you talking about!?” He spat in his best accusatory tone. “My planet doesn’t have magic; it doesn’t have any of this psychotic power that Paragore does! You should have seen for yourself when your Golem came and wrecked up the place.” Ian knew differently but he was playing for time.

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“Oh but that is where you are so very wrong, Ian,” Ivy said, taking the bait. In his arrogance he couldn’t resist the urge to correct someone, especially when that someone was a helpless captive. “The magical energy on your Earth is ready to burst forth, held at bay for hundreds, maybe thousands of years by your races own incompetence! Your people actually knew what magic was, and were too weak, or too frightened to realize its glorious potential! Instead, you hid it away and buried it like dogs with a bone,” he finished placing the last trinket over the final circle and then crooked a finger at Ian, “You left it waiting for me; it’s fate, don’t you see?

“You could never understand. It is a shame about your friend here though but I had to learn the limits of a body from your world. You haven’t been exposed to the power of magic for so long that your physical composition has evolved to a much poorer compatibility with anything even remotely magical.” He spoke with the tone of judgment and self-righteousness that made Ian’s skin crawl.

“Besides,” Ivy said, “he was rather a mess already when he arrived. You should honestly be thanking me for what I’ve done; I saved his life. And I’ve helped you to make so many new friends. In fact, if the whispers I’m hearing are correct, the vast majority of the Order have joined Ban in this rescue mission. Some of them have even made it inside The Key,” Ivy said, flicking his wrist.

A violet shimmer of light spread out from a few inches above Ian’s head. The light spread and formed a dome around the circle trapping Ian inside. Once sealed the chains and manacles fell away and slithered back to their spot on the wall.

A podium of skulls and blackened bones rose up out of the floor at the edge of the circle markings. When it finished its construction, a black mist dripped out from the empty eye sockets. Ivy stepped up to the raised dais running his hands over its surface with reverence. A heavy leather-bound tome sat on the podium. The sight filled Ian with dread.

Naturally. What evil villain’s decor is complete without skulls? Ian thought, his mind drawing back to his ultimate defense, sarcasm. “So what, you’re going to subject me to your ritual and hope that I behave?” He said mockingly.

“Oh, I don’t need you to behave, Ian.” Despite the concealing hood the shadows bent and parted enough to reveal Ivy’s cheshire grin as he turned his head up from the pages of the book. “My power is such that your obedience is quite unnecessary. Besides, I’ll be sending you home! Granted, it’s to act as a tether on the other side so that I can draw out every last smidge of magic from your planet.” As an afterthought he added, “Of course, this will kill your world and everyone in it in the process. But, such is life. Ever-fleeting to those who lack the strength to control it.”

Ivy started chanting. The silky black mist started pouring out heavily from the skulls on the podium. The air in the dome thickened as the mist rolled across the floor and seeped inside Ian’s prison. The chanting soon became muffled and Ian found breathing was a new challenge. He lifted his arm and shielded his face in the crook of his arm. He swiped at the mist and headed towards the rim of the circle.

A golden sigil appeared like an exploding firework. It blossomed into the shape of a towering bird which soon took flight across the room, crashing into the bubble in a shower of orange-gold sparks. The mist from the podium finally started to dissipate. Ian drew in a much-needed breath. Then the door crashed open.