“Zut!” I whispered. “Lucas! Lucas! Your sword!” He suddenly remembered the weapon Tuesday had given him. Lucas held it up, and waved the in a cumbersome manner. The Gwork stared at him with beady, red eyes. Gworks are most similar to mice. That is, if a mouse had teeth the size of skyscrapers, and legs as stiff as violin strings.
“Luc, do something!” Judith shrieked. His eyes were fearful as he stabbed at it.
“Look at you raw being!” I cried. Tears streamed down Lucas’ face, as he whispered the words “I can’t. I can’t.”

Reader, this is not a movie in which speaking some words will give him some magical power to believe in himself. There is none. But, dear readers, there is the magic of believing. If one believes they can do something, and tries their best to accomplish it, there’s a fifty-fifty chance they’ll get it. Lucas had no such belief. So, he fell.