Horace could feel his ears pop. Looking above had shown him as to why that was.

High above were the storm clouds that one only saw on the worst of nights simply hovering above the pit that the witch had created with their escape, and in the middle stood -- or rather flew his niece. He had seen her, still in the room far below, but had been so preoccupied with the other monster which had stood before them to notice her escape, so why was she coming down with such a vicious- Wait, Horace thought, eyeing suspiciously the vortex above him. That-that was magic; elemental magic which Riley had been incapable of understanding at this point. The meaning to all this was simply lost on him, so all he could do was climb. Unfortunately, the rate at which he could do so no where matched Fion's velocity who had already created a great distance between them. Whatever it was that was happening... it seemed the boy would have to handle it alone.

~

The djinn continued his own ascent, not acknowledging of the pressure system, or the intense magical energies that held above. His passenger, on the other hand, was all too aware. He ushered it to move faster, and faster, but was only met with the summon's scolding resistance. "Your rather stubborn for something I've summoned," he pouted with arms crossed. The fire spirit simply chuckled in response, knowing full well that this man wasn't his master.

~

Cygna watched the ensuing scene from far above. The man who's very soul now inhabited her daughter's body was reeking torment on the hindrance of a boy from before. This was exactly what she had wanted, yet, she was still not satisfied. Why was it that she had gotten the progenitor of destruction that she had desired and still be disappointed with the result? She shrugged it off, not wanting to double-think herself and decide she had indeed made the wrong decision.

~

Damn it all to the nine hells! He wasn't climbing fast enough. He had the strength, and the talentium, yet he couldn't move fast enough. The boy was being made short work of by his kin and -- with magics outside her reach, no less -- and he was powerless as to do nothing but climb and hope Fion would still be alive by the time he reached him.

Horace only had one last push though, and then he would be almost there.

~

He had arrive at the edge of the crater; companion and savior still well in tow. He had awoken with some great confusion, yet he still lived with nary a scratch to show for it. The dumb luck that seemed to follow him in life was absolutely amazing.

He could still see the storm, now localized on the other side of the pit. He could see little, yet the spirit still shouted, "There! There be my leetle weetch lady!" And he would have left to join had the man not forced him to stay with a minor binding spell (when had he learned that?).

The clouds began to clear, and all he could see was Fion, and... her.

~

Horace had finally made it over the pit's edge and yelped triumphantly as he collapsed on the ground. Given his bleeding and intense muscle fatigue, he felt he could collapse. Not a good thing.

Riley and Fion were no where in site; the only image was of that witch perched high above on her bird and the earthen mound that lay in front of him. "Witch," he called out as he regained his composure. "Where are they? Where did Riley and Fion go?" He could feel his breath go slightly ragged with the exertion this speech was taking from him. "You may wish to check there-" she pointed at the mound "-for your answer and a rather nasty surprise at that." Horace walked over to where she had indicated and readied his axe in a position that made it look like he was chopping lumber. With one swing he chopped the top off to find a black molten goo and a small pile of dead nasties... Riley's, if he wasn't mistaken. Sticking out among the dead cabal, was Fion, who was in a bad from whatever torture he had just been put through.

~

He couldn't believe it. That had been his body, his, doing all those nasty things; displaying feats of magic that he had never dreamed of being able to perform. Yet, the evidence lay bare before his eyes, and was left with a sickening nausea. Why? Why had she done those things to Fion of all people? He was an ass, sure, but to trap him with such a combination of familiar and unfamiliar magics was retching. He found himself paralyzed, and unable to help. Were it not for his uncle's intervention, Fion surely would have died, and it would be all because of her.