So OP

Elayne sits at the back left desk of a more linear classroom. She can’t help but play with the knot of the handkerchief tied behind her hair, bored out of her mind at whatever the teacher is spouting.

Boom!

The ground trembles. The few students in attendance —looking a few years older than her, all in the same light red jackets — frantically whip their heads around. Elayne does the same, peering out the window to her left.

She looks out over a grassy yard that stretches to the brick wall perimeter. Beyond that rises the towering white wall that surrounds the Capitol. Above it, smoke billows into the sky.

Boom!

The floor shakes, desks rattling. Students leap to their feet, screaming. Some bolt for the door.

“Everybody! Remember the drill!” the teacher, in a black wool dress with a white coif covering her gray hair, shouts.

But the students ignore her, shoving past each other, fighting to open the door.

Suddenly, the door blasts open, Flinging the students into the wall across the classroom, erupting into a song of pained screams.

Two tall, foreboding men in armor stride through the doorway. Goat horns jut from their helmets — one with long, pointed horns sticking straight up, the other’s curling in on itself.

The pointed-horned soldier raises a finger, pointing at Elayne, still frozen in her seat. The two exchange words in an unintelligible language.

“Students, gather around me!” the teacher screams.

The students scramble to her, clinging to each other and her legs as she begins chanting: “Divine wisdom, bless me with gracious ground, Terram tholus!”

A circle of rich brown stone bursts from the floor. It rises higher and arcs overhead, sealing into a dome.

Seeing that stone dome snaps Elayne to her senses, she springs from her seat, hopping across desks toward it. The two soldiers lunge at her.  Just as she leaps off the nearest desk to the dome, a gauntlet snatches her leg. She watches as the stone barrier seals shut around the students.

The soldier whips his arm, slamming her into the back wall with a heavy thud.

Elayne grunts — not from pain, but from anger. Sliding down the wall, she unsheathes the small sword at her belt. With a battle cry, she charges the intruders, sprinting between the desks, raising her sword.

The curled-horned soldier thrusts his spear. Elayne’s downward slash knocks it aside. She presses forward, but the other soldier’s spear is already upon her. She barely dodges, the tip grazing her throat and snagging her necklace, cutting the chain.

Without hesitation, she jumps onto a desk. Her necklace slides down the inside of her shirt, clattering against the wood. She leaps high above the soldiers, preparing a downward swing toward their helmets.

But the pointed-hoard soldier swings his spear, clubbing her in thigh, knocking her sideways. She crashes through the window, tumbling across the grass.

Elayne staggers to her feet, fangs bared, sword raised. She growls as the two soldiers climb out of the shattered window to meet her. Her stance is fierce, but her slow retreat betrays her intimidation.

Osric’s wheezes as he sprints down a wide cobblestone street. For a fleeting second, he wonders if the wheezes is fear or a lack of stamina. But he doesn't stop.

A bell tolls, deep and rhythmic. A warning bell, Osric assumes. A little late for that.

Half-timbered buildings burn on either side of him, orange flames fusing into the evening sky. The street is empty, but agonizing screams echo in the distance.

Osric freezes. Elayne! I left Elayne! I panicked like a coward! His chest twinges with guilt.

He spins on his heel, ready to sprint back — but stops as the armored soldiers appear, the black-cloaked mage in front. He tenses his shoulders and raises his arm up to cast a spell, knowing it's futile.

The clatter of hooves thunders from behind. A familiar purple carriage barrels into view. Cinder pulls hard on the reins, the horses skidding to a stop.

“Osric, get in!” Cinder shouts.

The carriage door flings open. Catalina holds out her hand, Randolf and Helen at her side.

“Osric, what happened?” Catalina pulls him in.

“The demons attacked.”

Catalina gasps. “I knew it.”

“Master, where’s Elayne?!” Helen demands.

Osric feels the carriage turn. He hops onto the seat, opening the front cubby. “Wait! We have to go back to the academy. Elayne’s still there!” he screams at her through the hole.

“Why isn’t she with you?” Helen presses, panicked.

“We got separated.”

“I’ll go,” Randolf says, already on the carriage step.

“Randolf?!” Catalina grabs his arm.

“I’ll be back. We'll meet at Angus' cottage.” He taps the sword at his belt.

“Nice thinking, bringing that,” Osric mutters.

“I never leave the village without it,” Randolf gives him a resolute nod, then darts down an alleyway, moving faster than Osric has ever seen.

Cinder cracks the reins, and the horses take off. The ground starts to rumble. Osric sticks his head out the window; a colossal stone slab bursts up from the street in front of them, rising higher than the buildings, sealing off the road. Dust raining down as the slab settles into place. The horses slide to a stop with nowhere to go.

He checks behind. The black-robed mage advances, soldiers at his back, his ancient book in hand. A glowing magic circle on the page, blinding Osric with white light.

Osric recoils into the carriage. So Demon Magic can do that too? How come it so OP?