The Boo Boo House was a small hut with a few beds where people were treated for injuries. One Phillip staffed it, providing various potions and primitive medicine. She reset DJ’s forearm, wrapped it in a splint, and put some kind of cream on his shoulder. Then she tied his arm in a sling and fed him a potion of some sort. DJ wondered if it was more broth, because it made the fireflies dance in his body again.

The potion made him think of how grateful he was to be in a safe place like this, with such loving, caring people. All the smiling faces. All identical names and clothing. Everyone was equal here. How glorious.

Goddess, DJ thought. It’s getting worse.

The melted elf. The melted elf. The melted elf.

Riley and Francis visited, with other Phillips following on their heels. Both of DJ’s friends lamented over his broken arm, a slight dash of fear laced across their faces.

“Yeah,” DJ said. “It’s going to keep me from doing a lot of things. A lot of things that matter a lot to me.”

He didn’t have to say it, but Riley and Francis knew what he meant. Magic depended on movement and language, and many spells couldn’t be performed without both arms. So as it stood, DJ couldn’t use magic. And if DJ couldn’t use magic, he couldn’t carry out his formulating escape plan. Who knows how long it would take his arm to heal without magic? Weeks? Months? By then, he knew his mind would be lost to this place. Francis and Riley both left with their heads hung down.

Surprisingly, Steve came to visit DJ not long after. DJ sat up in bed at the sight of his elusive friend. But Steve wasn’t as mopey as he had been in previous days. He walked with a pep in his step and his arms swung widely. His jubilant manner contrasted to the dark circles hanging under his eyes—he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. DJ watched him with bent eyebrows.

“Hello!” Steve said as he reached DJ’s bed.

“Steve! Uh—Phillip!” DJ stammered. “Thanks for visiting me. Really bad luck with the arm. It’s going to keep me from doing a lot.” DJ tried to be deliberate with his words. He knew how dense Steve could be.

Steve blinked innocently. “When shall they release you?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Wonderful!” Steve shouted. “Very grand indeed! Then I shall withhold my gift until then! We shall all be blessed!”

Where was the moping? Where was the sullen, distant, detached Steve? DJ twisted his face and cleared his throat. “A gift? Hey, uh, Phillip, are you okay? You seem different.”

“Never better!” Steve said. “I have been blessed with clarity and purpose! A bright new future awaits us!”

DJ’s heart sank. Oh no. They got him. His throat got tight and he tried to stay composed. “I’m glad you think that, Ste—Phillip. Thanks for coming to visit.”

Steve bowed so low that his face nearly touched the bed, then he turned on his heels and left the Boo Boo House. As the door closed behind him, DJ clenched his jaw and punched the mattress with his good arm, silently mourning the loss of his friend.

*

DJ still had to wear a sling and splint after he was released, but at least that got him out of sparring practice. He walked by the ring and met the gaze of Grand Phillip. She grinned brightly and waved at him. DJ forced a smile and wave, then muttered some very rude things under his breath.

Riley and Francis sat with DJ during every meal, along with a few other Phillips. DJ could tell that the noodles and broth were wearing them down too. Whenever they ate, they got the same dopey smiles on their faces, and those smiles lingered for several minutes after each meal. DJ wondered how long the image of the melted elf would help before the fireflies in his brain completely took over.

“Hey,” DJ said after supper. “Did our friend mention anything to you guys about a gift?”

Riley and Francis traded glanced then shook their heads. Riley asked, “Did he say something to you? How did you find him?”

“He showed up at the Boo Boo House yesterday after you two left. He said he had a gift for me and that he had been blessed with clarity. I think he’s… fully acclimated now.”

Riley’s bottom lip trembled and Francis looked deeply hurt.

A setting sun threw red light over the forest. Most of the Phillips were getting ready to retire to their bunks for the night. But just as the crowd was thinning out, they heard a familiar voice over by the Temple.

“House of Phillip!” Steve shouted. “Gather and hear me! I have an announcement of grave importance!”

There he was, standing at the foot of the Temple with his arms outstretched. Steve looked out on the village with a huge smile. Curiously, Phillips whispered to one another and began to gather in the center of the village, facing the Temple. DJ, Riley, and Francis pushed to the front of the crowd, anxiously awaiting whatever Steve had to say.

Steve noticed them. “Yes! My friends! Please join me!”

Cautiously, DJ and the others joined Steve on the first step of the Temple. DJ leaned toward Steve and whispered. “Steve, what are you doing? Is this the gift you were talking about?”

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he faced the crowd of Phillips that stood before him. No one was left in the barracks, combat ring, or even the pickleball court. Everyone in the village stood facing one of their newest Phillips. Steve had their unbridled attention.

“This announcement is of great importance!” Steve hollered. “We have been part of your village for many days! You have adopted us into the House of Phillip! You have given us your Book and fed us your noodles! And I am proud to say that this day, through me…” he paused for dramatic affect, “the mighty Goddess rains her fiery vengeance upon you!”

KABOOM!

The Temple of Phillip burst in a fireball of destruction. The ground trembled. Splintered, burning wood chunks hurled through the air, raining across the village. Phillips screamed and cowered. They watched the sky for falling bits of woody shrapnel. All the while, DJ’s ears rang and he raised one arm to shield himself.

Steve’s arms were still in the air. “May your thirst for death grant you the deepest pits of the Hundred Hells! May your false god Phillip cower at the awesome might of the Goddess Uh! As your Temple has been rent asunder, so shall your cursed dogma crumble! Farewell, House of Phillip, and may you know torment until your dying days!” He threw out his arms. “Vytrum-tholys!”

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With those words, Steve encased every Phillip inside the largest Barrier spell DJ had ever seen. It was a giant blue dome one hundred feet in diameter, full of raging Phillips pounding their fists against its glassy edge like caged animals. Pandemonium ensued. Agony racked their senses. They wailed and pulled their hair, fell to their knees, clawing and scratching at the blue Barrier.

DJ watched the sight with a dangling jaw, still absorbing everything that had happened. But Steve wore a smile. He turned to DJ and said, “Time to go! Weapons are here!”

Steve reached under the Temple steps. He withdrew Francis’s ax, DJ’s sword, Riley’s bow, and his very own frying pan. Everyone watched him incredulously as they armed themselves. The Phillips screamed and cursed as chunks of debris bounced off the Barrier dome.

“Steve!” DJ said. “How—when did—?”

“No time for words, Sir DJ!” Steve hollered. “For now, we must make our escape! May the Goddess grant us safety!”

Steve led the way as they sprinted for the south gate. The tall wooden structure was sealed tight, locked with a series of bolts and chains. When they got close enough, Steve planted his feet and jabbed a finger forward. “Fulgyr-fylum!”

A bolt of blue lightning blasted into the gate, blowing a hole through the timber almost big enough to crawl through. Francis went to work immediately, hacking the hole larger with his ax. DJ looked over his shoulder, terrified that the Barrier spell would drop soon. His fear was confirmed. He could see the blue shell flickering, so they only had seconds.

“Let’s pick up the pace!” Riley shouted.

“Your criticism isn’t constructive!” Francis said.

It would be a tight squeeze, but Francis hacked a large enough hole. Riley wiggled through first. Then Steve. It was tough to make it through with their robes catching on the broken wood. Francis struggled to get through through with his massive shoulders and hefty gut. He finally plopped onto the other side just as the Barrier spell vanished. DJ looked over his shoulder and saw hundreds of cult members stampeding toward him.

He yelped and tried to climb through, but it was nearly impossible with one arm. DJ started to panic, but Francis thrust both his hands through the hole, grabbed DJ’s shoulders and hoisted him through.

“Ooowww!” DJ complained.

Steve threw both hands toward the hole. “Refyctio!” The broken bits of wood flew back into the wall, sealing it up, good as new. Just a second later, Phillips flung their bodies against the gate. Muffled thumps and angry shouts came from the other side.

“We’re nearly free!” Steve said. “Southward we go! Quickly! Invisi-pallyum!”

Everyone in the party vanished. Invisible. DJ slapped his hand all over his torso to make sure it was still there. Then he remembered reading about Evercloak in his spellbook—it granted invisibility for a short period of time. Steve just cast it on all of them, which was a pretty hefty feat. Hopefully it would last long enough to put some distance between them and the village. Under the cover of darkness, they’d have an even better chance.

DJ heard the footsteps of his friends take off southward. He followed.

As they went, Steve unraveled his story. When they were forced to take the oath and join the House of Phillip, Steve said the words with his mouth, but in his heart, he vowed to exact justice on the murderous cult. So for days, he meditated—while hidden, if possible—to focus his magical energy. Then at night, he would cast Evercloak on himself to invisibly study the village and devise an escape plan.

It was after the first night that he knew what to do. He managed to break into the shed by the combat ring and turn barrels of Holy Boom Powder invisible while he moved them to the Temple. It took several nights of working until dawn before most of the barrels were moved. Then he tied a series of fuses long enough that he’d be able to give his speech to the village while the fuse burned and the Temple got ready to blow.

Of course, he knew he’d need a plan to get out of the village after the explosion, and he knew exactly what spells could be effective. He meditated for an entire day so he could perform a massive Barrier spell to trap the villagers, Shockthread to break the gate, Repair to fix it, and Evercloak to make him and his friends invisible.

“How are you not magically exhausted after all that?” DJ said.

“Oh, I can hardly see!” Steve returned. “My head feels ready to burst! But we must fly! Do not forget the forest people that took us!”

That’s true. DJ hadn’t forgotten the people in the trees that stalked, captured, and carried them to the village. With any luck, the spell would wear off once they were out of range. But if not, they would have a battle on their hands. DJ cursed his broken arm and clutched his sword.

Dark bodies flickered into view just ahead of DJ—his friends. They all did their best to sprint in their cult robes, but it was hard to get a full stride. When they fully appeared in the darkness, everyone was running out of breath, so they slid to a halt.

They tried to keep their panting quiet, but took in measured breaths. They stayed still and listened to the forest. Steve squinted and kept his fingers splayed. Riley readied her bow and DJ drew his sword.

Silence. It lasted for a long while. DJ relaxed and retracted from his fighting stance.

Then a rustle above. Everyone looked up. Eight shapes dropped from the trees. They were dressed entirely in black, with nothing but a slit to reveal their eyes. Upon their chests, their garb had the same noodle insignia as the cult robes.

Everyone dodged out of the way and scrambled to their feet. All except DJ, however, who landed on his broken arm. Pain rocked through him and writhed upon the ground.

Steve cast Shockthread. The bolt of lightning ripped through three cultists, dropping them with gaping, smoldering holes in their bodies. As the smell of scorched meat wafted through the air, Steve dropped to his hands and knees and vomited. The magic had finally proved too much.

Francis buried his ax in a cultist’s stomach. Another cultist lunged and swiped at him with a dagger. Francis took the blow in the shoulder and winced as the blood seeped down his arm. Then he grabbed the cultist’s head and smashed it against a tree. Skull fragments and brain matter oozed through Francis’s fingers, and he threw the body away. It slumped across the ground next to its slain ally.

Riley shot an arrow into an advancing cultist. It found its mark in the foe’s shoulder, and the cultist dropped to one knee as it growled. Then it snapped the bolt in half. With shaking hands, Riley nocked another arrow, but she noticed one of the cultists advancing on Steve while he retched on the soil. She let the arrow fly to protect him, but it missed. That’s when the cultist focused on Riley instead.

Now she had two cultists advancing on her. She nocked a third arrow and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. DJ scrambled to get up with one good arm. In a sitting position, he fought through the pain and scooped up his sword. Then he hurled it like a boomerang toward one of the cultist’s legs.

The strike was true, and the sword sliced through the cultist’s hamstring. The cultist roared and collapsed, unable to move. The other cultist advancing on Riley stopped. It looked around. At that moment, Francis swung his ax into the last standing foe. With six cultists slain, one still standing, and one badly wounded, the battle turned three against one-and-a-half.

The cultist paused, tensed, then turned on its heels and fled northward. That left the last cultist—the one with the severed hamstring—laying on the ground, bleeding into the dirt. Utterly defeated.

Steve regained himself and he wiped the sick from his lips. Francis helped him to his feet, and DJ stood as well. Everyone stalked toward the remaining cultist, unsure of whether or not to land a killing blow. They didn’t get the chance.

“Heathens!” the cultist shouted. “I will not die by your hand! All glory to Phillip!” It turned its knife backward and plunged it into its chest. It gasped, gurgled, twitched, and stilled. The cultist eyes stared lifeless into the night sky.

DJ shivered. Seven dead bodies littered all around. The smell of death was beginning to fester in the air. He found his bloodstained sword in the dirt and scooped it up. He was worried he would have to kill again tonight, but it wasn’t the case. Thank the Goddess.

“Steven,” Francis said. “You have truly outdone yourself. That was a magnificent escape.”

Steve didn’t have the energy to reply. He just gave a woozy thumbs up. He would have collapsed again if Riley didn’t hold him up. She turned to DJ and said, “We should go.”

“Definitely,” DJ said. “Next stop, Varis.”

As DJ said the words, though, he was filled with a different sense of dread.