With her sword held high, Six’s body starts to convulse and blur with a quick flash of white. She grows taller and her long blond hair shrinks into a small patch on top of a large skull. Her face elongates and morphs, and somehow I know she’s changing into Setrákus Ra even before the glowing purple scar appears on his neck. Two battalions of Mog soldiers silently emerge from doors on the sides of the room and flank him. Without a word, Nine, Marina, Ella, and I move closer to one another, standing over Eight, to make it clear we will face him together.

‘All of you in one place. How convenient for me. I hope you’re ready to die,’ he snarls.

‘I think you have that wrong,’ I reply.

‘That’s what Number Six thought, too. But she was wrong. Very wrong.’ He smiles, his revolting and stained teeth glinting in the dim light.

Nine looks over at me and rubs his hands together, all eager anticipation. ‘Johnny boy, have we discussed how important oral hygiene is to me?’ He looks back at Setrákus Ra, ‘Dude, brush your teeth before you even think about threatening me!’ He extends his glowing red staff, turns to Setrákus Ra and charges. Thankfully we still have the power of our Inheritance.

30.

30.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nine charging Setrákus Ra. I turn back to Eight, to see if I can heal him. I keep my hands on Eight’s chest wound, waiting for my Legacy to start working again. Nothing. I beg Eight to hold on, to fight through the pain, but his brown eyes roll back, and his breath becomes more and more shallow. Panicked, I flash back on the drawing from the Loric cave, the one where Eight is killed by Setrákus Ra’s sword. Is the prediction coming true? I desperately keep pressing my hands all over his chest.

‘Marina!’ John shouts. ‘We have to get you and Eight out of this room, now! I have a feeling if we can get away from Setrákus Ra, our Legacies will start working again. If I’m right, you can still save Eight.’

‘He’s almost gone,’ I manage to choke out. ‘It might be too late no matter what we do.’ I can’t bring myself to tell him about the cave drawing. I wonder if Eight is able to think about any of this, to remember the drawing, to know what this moment might be. I hope not.

‘Then we should hurry,’ he says, handing me a Mog cannon and picking up Eight. ‘Shoot anything and everything that’s not one of our friends.’