Discipline, came Mace’s calming voice in my mind.

It startled me because it was the first time I’d heard his voice in my head besides our conversation in the cabin. Until then, I’d only experienced vague, instinctive feelings from him. Perhaps it was something he could only do in dire situations. Or perhaps madness was setting in.

Discipline helps focus, he said.

Discipline. Right. That was one of Mace’s Positive Traits. It took discipline to focus my will. But how could I use “Discipline” when I was panicking and angry and more scared than I’d ever been in my life? My son could be dying right next to me!

Focus your will on breaking the spell.

Okay, so draw on Mace’s “Discipline” to focus my will on breaking the spell. After I thought about it, I wondered, What does that even mean?

Mace didn’t answer, but his instincts told me that we had to do it together or it wouldn’t work.

So I put all my will and focus into moving my muscles again, any muscle: my fingers, my toes, my eyelids, even my lips. But I still couldn’t make anything twitch.

I struggled for a long time. I couldn’t tell the time in the dungeon, but the dung fire nearby was getting dimmer, and my left arm—though unmovable—was numb from me lying on it for so long. I would push to move a toe or a finger and then rest from the frustration and mental raging that such a simple effort took. I also fought against the creeping despair that maybe I would never break the spell. Trox would return, kill us both, and that would be that.

As I rested after a particularly rough push, something disturbed the river water about twenty paces beyond the dung fire. There was a splash and then a slap as if something landed on the wet rock at the river’s edge. I couldn’t move my eyes to see what was there, so I tried focusing on the corner of my eye in that direction. But whatever was near the river was out of my vision.

Another splash and another slap near where I heard the first one. After the slap came a dragging sound along the gravelly shore. The sound was heading toward Jack and me.

Now what?!

My thoughts were in full-blown panic-terror mode, and focus was the last thing I could do. Some monster out of the dark river was crawling toward me and my son and would soon eat us alive. First, it would start gnawing my feet, then my legs, all the way up to my torso. I’d feel the horrible, indescribable pain of being eaten alive, and I wouldn’t be able to move.

Or worse—it would start with Jack, and I’d have to watch.

I almost lost my mind.

But it helps to have two people sharing one body.

FOCUS YOUR WILL ON BREAKING THE SPELL!

Mace’s voice reverberated within my skull like a bell. It got my attention but left me frustrated in addition to panicked.

That’s what I’ve been doing, but it’s not working!

BREAK…THE…SPELL…

You’re not making sense! I’ve been trying to move, but I can’t even blink. My muscles won’t—

Wait.

My muscles won’t work.

The whole time I’d been trying to move my muscles. I thought it took physical strength to break the Hold Person spell. Maybe instead, I should’ve been focusing on the spell itself?

I felt an instinctive sigh of relief come from Mace. Focus on breaking the spell.

I’m an idiot, I thought. I can’t believe I didn’t—

The dragging sound got closer, and a grotesque mewling accompanied it as if whatever was inching toward us sounded eager for a meal. Focusing on breaking the spell would be hard while listening to that.

But I had to, or Jack and I would die.

I couldn’t close my eyes, but I let my sight take on that zoning-out stare. It was doubly hard focusing on something else with my eyes pointed at my unconscious son, but somehow I ignored my senses and turned my attention inward.

I call on my Ancestral Blood, I thought, knowing these words were coming from Mace and not me, to grant me the will to break the spell holding me prisoner.

I felt a warmth spread from my heart to my limbs.

I repeated the mantra. I call on my Ancestral Blood…

The warmth spread to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I blinked. It was just one blink, but the joy and relief it gave me were indescribable. It fueled my will and focus.

…to grant me the will…

My fingers twitched, and then my feet moved. I could push air through my vocal cords, and I started making a moaning sound. I clenched my teeth and let the moan turn into a determined scream.

…to break the spell holding me prisoner…!

I pushed against the spell with all the will and Ancestral power coursing through my body. At first, the spell pushed back with equal power, but then it began to give way like the flimsy screen on a window. I was so close; I pushed harder—

Something cold, wet, and slimy grabbed my foot. A stabbing pain came from my leg just above my ankle, and then the thing from the river started pulling my body with it. My limbs were still frozen. I couldn’t kick the thing or struggle. I couldn’t even turn my head to see what was dragging me.

I clenched my teeth harder until my jaw creaked and focused on one final push against the spell:

I call on my Ancestral Blood to grant me the will to break the spell holding me prisoner!

Using the flimsy window screen metaphor, it was like I dove through the screen head first and landed on the cool grass outside. I was free.

I sat up, dug my free foot into the gravelly shore, and pulled back against the thing pulling me. Then I let myself take a good look at it.

I saw a pale, bald, humanoid face with milky eyes staring at me in sudden surprise, and its mouth—with jagged, uneven teeth—made a dark “O” when it saw me. The monster’s arms were tentacles, but with barbs instead of the suckers you’d see on an octopus.

My revulsion and terror made me decide. Okay, Mace, you’re in the driver's seat now.

Mace took over and knew exactly what to do. I stopped digging into the gravel with my free foot and lifted it. What happened next was like when one side stopped pulling in a tug-of-war: My body flew toward the monster, and I kicked it in the face with my free foot. Rather than a satisfying crunch when my foot connected, it was like kicking the red pulp of a halved watermelon. Juices and chunks flew in all directions, and the monster ripped its barbs from my flesh as it slithered backward on its tentacles toward the river.

I didn’t have time to scream from the pain in my leg or chase the retreating monster, for another one was crawling toward Jack. But it stopped with a tentacle in midair over my son’s foot when it saw me coming toward it. The monster’s mouth formed another dark “O” with those jagged teeth. I leaped up, took two steps, and drop kicked the octo-monster in the face just like the other one. My kick took half its head off, pieces and fluids exploding backward. The creature deflated into a heap.

The retreating monster behind me splashed into the river and was gone. With no more immediate threats, I went to Jack. I stopped next to him and said, “Jack, can you hear me?”

When I put my hands on his shoulders to roust him…they went right through him. It was like I was touching air.

And then he disappeared.