Beyond Berserk

"Because, there is no training for Berserker magic," he'd told us. Once the spell is cast over the animal's carcass, its soul will meld with your own, giving you enhanced casting abilities, and strength, but once it's done, there is no going back. Do you understand? There are no redo's. You either master it, or you succumb to the beastly instincts. Ya' think you all can handle that type of pressure?

They all nodded their heads in agreement.

"So be it then," he answered, crouching down to the ground.

"What are you doing, Fenrir?" Julia asked, kneeling down beside their new ally.

"Diggin'," he called out. "I reckon, you've never prettied your delicate hands back at Brakebills?"

She didn't answer.

"Ah, found my old stash. Just where I left it.

Eliot, looking beyond disgusted cupped his hands to his face, as if he were about to throw up. "What are those?" he asked removing a hand to point to the knapsack.

"These here are the bones of the creatures we'll be consecrating for your transformation," he announced, holding open the sack, allowing a putrid musk to escape its confines. "Now, what in tarnation?!" he'd bellowed looking at its contents. "Someone done ransacked my sack o' bones!"

Eliot looked, busting out in laughter. Julia and Quentin rolled their eyes, knowing very well what type of obscene joke loomed in his head. Fenrir carried on, unphased by the laughter.

"There were supposed to be chimera, leviathan, manticore, and phoenix bones in here!"

"Well, uh, what's left," Quentin asked, trying desperately not to sound too eager.

"Just, dragon, faun, and unicorn," he affirmed, examining each skull. "These were nev—"

"Those will do fine," Julia interrupted.

Looking to them all, he smiled, his glare more wolf-like than human. "Let's get this rodeo started then."

********************************************************************************************

Time was running out, and running out faster than the trio could've anticipated. A month had gone by since Fenrin taught them the Berserker enchantment, and still, there'd been no sign of the Beast. No killings, no missing persons, nothing. Not until today. Today was different. Today time stood still.

"HE'S HERE!!" Julia called out through muffled breaths, as she ran down the Brakebills hallway.

The Beast, slowly walked down the corridor, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. "Hello Mr. Coldwater...and friends. 'Tis a lovely day to die, wouldn't you agree?" he said through an awkward smile.

Eliot answered by firing off three viridescent spheres of flaming acid towards the swarms of moths that encircled his head, causing them to scatter, exposing a gravel pale face.

"Martin?" Quentin called out. "It's Martin Chatwin!"

Martin snapped his fingers, sending the moths that had dispersed, darting towards him, their carcasses now a sea green. "I thought it only proper to show you the face of your murderer. After all, that is what I'll be if that remedial Brakebills battle-magic is all you've packed in your arsenal."

Quentin looked to Julia, extending his left arm to which she outstretched her right. The two connected their hands, extensively entwining their fingers in unison, producing and firing an enormous array of cerulean lightning bolts at his chest.

"You got him," Eliot cried out.

"Not quite," he professed, straightening his tie. Weaving his fingers together, he emitted a black mist from his hands, to which every shadow of the corridor slithered to. "This will be your end," he bragged, compressing the dark matter between his mutated hands.