The air in the dungeon crackled with an oppressive energy. The sickly green glow emanating from the Ruby Eye, now embedded in Eldridge's forehead, painted the cavernous space in a terrifying light. He was no longer the Professor of History; the transformation was grotesque, almost obscene. His skin stretched and cracked, hardening into obsidian plates. Bones warped and elongated, sprouting grotesque protrusions. His eyes, apart from the malevolent glare of the Ruby Eye, were milky white and vacant.

"Such…power!" Eldridge roared, his voice a distorted echo of its former self, laced with a guttural rasp that seemed to scrape against the very stone of the dungeon. The air around him vibrated, dust motes swirling in frantic patterns.

Ethan stumbled back, pressing himself against the damp, moss-covered wall. The magical energy radiating from Eldridge was almost palpable, a suffocating weight that threatened to crush him. He felt a surge of panic, cold and sharp. The improvised spells and cantrips he'd been throwing around were utterly useless against this. He was facing something far beyond anything he'd encountered in his short, accidental career as a Professor of the Obscure Arts.

"Eldridge!" Ethan shouted, trying to pierce through the monstrous facade. "This isn't you! This isn't what Margaret would have wanted!"

His words seemed to have little effect. Eldridge merely chuckled, a sound that was more a grinding of rocks than human laughter. "Margaret understands… she sees the potential! This… this will bring her back! Perfected!" He flexed a clawed hand, sending shards of rock flying.

Ethan knew he had to act. He couldn't stand here and watch Eldridge – or whatever Eldridge had become – complete whatever twisted ritual he had planned. But he was outmatched, outgunned, and frankly, terrified. He had to think, to find some weakness, some vulnerability in this… monstrosity.

His eyes darted around the dungeon, searching for anything, anything at all, that could help him. He saw the remnants of the summoning circle, chalk lines glowing faintly, the residue of arcane energy clinging to the air. He saw the scattered remains of Eldridge's research, ancient tomes ripped open, pages filled with cryptic symbols. He saw, in the flickering light, a glint of metal.

It was the silver locket, the one Eldridge had always kept close, the one containing a picture of his deceased wife, Margaret. It lay discarded on the floor, knocked away during the initial stages of the transformation.

An idea, desperate and risky, sparked in Ethan's mind. He remembered Ms. Ainsworth's warnings about the Ruby Eye, how it amplified desires, twisted intentions, corrupted the very soul. Could it be that Eldridge's love for Margaret, however warped, was still a point of connection, a vulnerability?

"Eldridge, look!" Ethan shouted, pointing to the locket. "Is this what Margaret wanted? For you to become this… this thing?"

Eldridge hesitated. The monstrous grin faltered. He turned his head, the Ruby Eye blazing, towards the locket. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of humanity seemed to cross his transformed features. He reached out a clawed hand, trembling slightly.

Ethan seized the opportunity. He remembered a simple banishing spell he’d overheard Professor Armitage muttering during one of the "faculty" meetings – a hastily scribbled incantation involving silver and focused intent. It was designed to ward off minor spirits, but it was all he had.

He grabbed a small piece of silver from his belt buckle, ripped it off with surprising strength fueled by adrenaline, and focused all his will, all his fear, all his desperate hope into the simple words of the banishing spell.

"Argentum… expello… tenebras…" he chanted, his voice shaking but firm.

A faint silver light emanated from the small piece of metal, a pathetic glimmer against the overwhelming power of the Ruby Eye. But it was enough. The light struck Eldridge's outstretched hand, causing him to recoil with a roar of pain.

The moment of distraction was all Ethan needed. He scrambled forward, ignoring the searing pain in his muscles, and snatched up the locket. He held it aloft, directly in front of the Ruby Eye.

"Eldridge! Remember her! Remember Margaret!" he yelled, his voice raw with emotion. "This isn't you! Fight it! Fight the Eye!"

He wasn't sure if Eldridge could even hear him, but he had to try. He had to appeal to whatever shred of humanity remained within that monstrous form.

The Ruby Eye pulsed, its green light intensifying. Eldridge staggered, clutching his head with his clawed hands. The transformation seemed to waver, the obsidian plates softening, the grotesque protrusions shrinking.

"Margaret…" he groaned, the sound barely audible amidst the swirling energy of the dungeon. "Please… help me…"

Ethan held the locket tighter, focusing all his energy, all his belief, into the image of Margaret contained within. He imagined her face, her smile, her love for Eldridge. He tried to channel that love, to use it as a weapon against the corrupting influence of the Ruby Eye.

The air crackled with tension. The dungeon held its breath. It was a battle not of magic, but of will, of love, against the insidious power of a cursed artifact.

Then, with a deafening crack, the Ruby Eye shattered.

The green light vanished, replaced by an oppressive darkness. Eldridge collapsed to the floor, his transformation receding at an alarming rate. The obsidian plates dissolved, the grotesque protrusions disappeared, and his skin returned to its normal color, though it was now pale and clammy with sweat.

Ethan stumbled back, gasping for breath. He clutched the locket, his hand trembling. He had done it. He had somehow, impossibly, managed to break the Eye's connection.

But the danger wasn't over. Even without the Ruby Eye's influence, Eldridge was still a formidable sorcerer, a master of the dark arts. And he was now lying unconscious, vulnerable.

Ethan knew he couldn't kill him. He couldn't bring himself to take a life, even the life of someone who had attempted to summon a Shadow Beast and petrify a student. But he couldn't leave him here, either.

He looked around the dungeon, his eyes falling on a set of ancient manacles, rusted but still functional, attached to the wall. He hesitated for a moment, then made his decision.

He carefully, gingerly, approached the unconscious Eldridge. He bound his hands and feet with the manacles, securing him to the wall. It was a temporary solution, but it would buy him some time.

He then turned his attention to the remnants of the summoning circle. He quickly, using his rudimentary knowledge of counter-spells, began to dismantle it, disrupting the flow of arcane energy and sealing the portal that Eldridge had attempted to open.

As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of unease. He had won this battle, but the war was far from over. The Shadow Syndicate was still out there, lurking in the shadows of Blackwell Academy. And he, a struggling art student who had stumbled into this world by accident, was now caught in the middle of it all.

He finished dismantling the summoning circle, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked at the bound and unconscious Eldridge, a mix of pity and apprehension swirling within him.

He knew he had to get out of here, to find Ms. Ainsworth, to tell her what had happened. But as he turned to leave the dungeon, a new and terrifying thought occurred to him.

What if the Ruby Eye's power hadn't been completely broken? What if a fragment of its influence still lingered within Eldridge, waiting to reawaken? And what if, even now, Eldridge was merely feigning unconsciousness, biding his time, plotting his revenge?

The shadows of the dungeon seemed to deepen, the air growing colder. Ethan shivered, a prickle of fear running down his spine. He knew, with chilling certainty, that his ordeal at Blackwell Academy was far from over.