Тейлор Поттер и философский виал / Taylor Potter and the Philosophical Vial: Глава 13. Меч Героя

Amy started, but then stopped herself. Taylor read her like an open book — the desire to rid herself of the imposed aura of adoration for Potter and the fear of the Dark One's power — it was all a little amusing. The memory block faded, and Taylor remembered what had happened in the Great Hall on Christmas Day. No, that's not it, the new power had brought her the memory. Subjugate Amy and create an army of insects? A little later, now she needed to get her sword.

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"Here it is," Taylor said, holding out her hand.

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There, behind the glass, in an open case, lay a metal cylinder.

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"Is this a sword?"

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"Of course," Taylor's hand pierced the indestructible glass and pulled out the cylinder. "Or did you think it would be a regular sword? You yourself said Hero was a Tinker."

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"And what does it do?"

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Taylor pressed a button on the side, and a telescopic baton, about seventy centimeters long, extended from the cylinder. Another press.

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"This," Taylor replied, swinging it.

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Steel, wood, stone, force fields — everything was cut up like paper. The hole in the wall revealed Dumbledore's bedroom, and Amy was embarrassed to see a robe peeking out from under the bed — someone's, definitely not Fortuna's. Taylor thought her friend looked embarrassed.

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"What is a sword like that for?" Amy asked automatically.

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"To kill the Endbringers, of course," Taylor answered without a shadow of a doubt.

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Now she knew everything, as if the sword was transmitting to her the memory of past events.

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"Who?" Amy asked again.

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Wormwarts' defenses were resisting, becoming increasingly difficult to maintain, and Taylor knew the Headmistress would return soon. The ideal solution would be to activate the self-destruct system, but she lacked access. Taylor called upon several more of the Thinkers' powers, attempting to breach the defenses, but they held. Time seemed to slow, and Taylor sifted through her available powers like tools, simultaneously sensing that they weren't enough to resist Fortuna. She needed to clear her tracks and flee, gather new powers, new tools, and Amy could help her with that. Her power would be an excellent tool, and she would gain access to Taylor's body and maintain it in perfect condition. A perfect combination; she only needed to rob Amy of her willpower and rewrite her motivations.

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"They are a weapon once hidden by Eidolon in the Dimension of Secrets, and they are subservient to the power of whoever opens the way for them. No one can stand against them!"

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Taylor reached out to another power, and a storm of matter transforming into energy, and energy destroying even more matter, raged around her. Immediately, the defenses sounded an alarm, and the systems activated, but Taylor had already slipped away, turning to the power of teleportation, taking Amy by the hand. At the same time, Taylor felt herself crossing a threshold, her powers increasing exponentially, yet simultaneously losing control, and a hundred voices arguing in her head. Conflict. Murder. Destruction. Power.

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Yes, she will rule over all!

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The key to the Dimension of Secrets was somewhere nearby; she could smell the "aroma" of power all around her, and somewhere beyond Wormwarts, a whole bouquet of superpowers was fragrant, like a vast perfume factory. She would seize it, unleash the Endbringers and their fury, and with the Hero's Sword in her possession, no one would be able to stop these engines of destruction! She would absorb the powers around her and ascend, making Wormwarts her residence, and every year, new powers would come to her, young, immature, but twice as delicious!

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She turned to Amy and greedily pulled her towards her, intending to drink the power.

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"You said it yourself that you're my best friend, Taylor," came a barely audible sigh in response.

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The touch struck Taylor like an electric shock, shaking and thrashing, a savage pain pierced her from head to toe, and her powers went wild, completely out of control. A white shroud of pain enveloped Taylor, blinding her, knocking out her memory and spirit, and she collapsed.

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"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Amy whispered, shaking violently.

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Taylor rolled and twisted among the trees of the Forbidden Forest, lightning and fire blazing from her, water gushing, space bending, and everything around her breaking. A roar, full of pain and anguish, erupted from her clenched jaws, the roar of a tortured animal, not even a human. Amy shook and cried, the Hero's sword lying at her feet, transformed back into a metal cylinder. Amy knew she had done the right thing, and even if she had made a mistake, and Taylor would lose her superpower along with the Dark One's power, it was still better than this... a monster... a beast... horror. Dark Capes was one of the greatest horror stories, and Eric and Crystal sometimes frightened Amy with them. But tales, fairy tales, and fables couldn't convey even a hundredth of the horror Taylor evoked up close. At the same time, Amy knew that Taylor had only turned to the power of the Dark One, had not yet become one, which, in fact, allowed Weasley herself to carry out the operation of cutting off, another operation on the brain, yes.

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Truly, it seems like fate is just waiting for you to break the ban!

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Amy's shaking and trembling were further intensified by the fact that she knew she had to live with this now. Live and remember. Perhaps Taylor, with the power of the Dark One, could erase her memory, but more likely, she would simply enslave her. Servants of the Dark One — oh yes, Amy was well acquainted with that part of Cape folklore. Taylor's convulsions and twitching ceased, as if all her strength had drained from her, and the forest around her now looked as if there had been a battle. With a trembling hand, Amy touched Taylor and, with indescribable relief, realized she had succeeded.

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Amy fell into a daze, leaning her back against the nearest tree.

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"Amy! Amy! Amy!" and a slap.

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Amy came to her senses with difficulty and immediately remembered what had happened.

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"What happened?" Taylor asked.

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She looked terrible, with scratches on her face and arms, torn clothes, and hair stuck up with debris stuck in it.

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"Why are we here? What happened? Was there a battle here?"

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Amy only sighed, rising. She didn't know how to explain what had happened, and she had no intention of explaining it. It was already dark, but the moon was shining brightly, and Amy easily found the top hat in the grass.

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"There," she said, "you have obtained the Hero's sword."

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"Really?" Taylor asked, genuinely surprised. "Is that a sword? How do you use it?"

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Amy smiled confusedly, again not knowing how to explain all this.

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"Oh, here's someone to help us!" Taylor exclaimed suddenly. "Hey, hey, hey, Professor! We're here!"

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Amy had a panic attack—after all, the letter clearly said "do not seek help!" She told it, but the outcome was somewhat predictable.

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"Professor Niceguy doesn't count," Taylor waved off. "He's nice!"
T.N.

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Amy only sighed; in her eyes, not a single professor was worth her sister's life. Not even one like Victoria, who irradiated Amy with an aura and all. While Taylor explained the backstory to Professor Lockhart, in a confused and disjointed manner (Potter remembered receiving the letter), Amy tried to come up with a plausible version of what had happened in the interim, which Taylor couldn't recall. Nothing came to mind, and the sudden arrival of midnight and the opening of the portal was a relief to Amy.

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True, she immediately realized that she was not ready for anything, and she began to tremble again.

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It wasn't even a portal that had opened, no, a crack in space, as if someone had literally cut the fabric of the universe with enormous scissors or a claw, and now the wind was blowing through that gap. Crouching and shielding her eyes, Taylor walked into the wind and stepped into the crack, realizing she was making one of the biggest mistakes of her life, yet knowing she couldn't do otherwise. She'd barely stepped inside when the crack began to close, but Amy and Everywhere managed to follow.

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The light flickered, revealing a natural cave, part of which had been refined. Several mannequins were still working on one of the walls, chipping and sanding something. Lisa and Victoria sat bound near the spotlights, which diffused the light throughout the cave. Above and behind them towered another robotic mannequin, now standing with its arms folded.

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"Here we meet, Taylor Potter," he said in a shaky voice, glancing at Niceguy Lockhart. "Again."

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*

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