Levi awoke with a start, her heart racing and her breath shallow. The faint smell of smoke still lingered in the air, even though she was in her apartment, safe under the covers. She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of the vivid nightmare that had dragged her from sleep. But as her fingers brushed against her face, she felt a burning warmth on her skin—like something was smoldering beneath the surface, just out of reach.
It was then that she noticed it: the sigil on her palm, the same one that had burned into her skin all those nights ago. It pulsed faintly, as though alive, as though beckoning her. She felt a surge of magic, a pull—no, a compulsion—as if the universe itself was calling her to something, somewhere.
Before she could even process the sensation, the world around her shifted. The air turned cold, and the walls of her apartment blurred into shadows. Her body felt weightless, and she was no longer in her room.
The sound of crackling fire reached her ears, sharp and terrifying. Levi gasped, blinking as the landscape around her morphed into something entirely different. She was standing on a charred, scorched battlefield, the ground beneath her feet cracked and split. The sky overhead was a fiery, smoldering red, as though the world itself was burning. The air was thick with ash, and the scent of destruction filled her lungs.
"Where am I?" Levi whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames.
As if in response, a voice echoed through the smoke.
"Eloria's path is yours to follow now."
Levi spun around to find herself facing a figure cloaked in darkness. The figure's face was hidden beneath a hood, but she could feel their presence—powerful, ancient, and heavy with regret.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to steady herself. "What is this place?"
The figure stepped forward, their presence emanating a strange, oppressive energy. The ground beneath their feet seemed to wither, the flames recoiling as they drew closer.
"This is the dreamscape," the figure said, their voice hauntingly familiar, like a distant echo from a forgotten time. "It is both a prison and a memory. A place where the past and the future collide."
Levi's heart skipped a beat. The words sent a chill down her spine. "Are you Eloria?"
The figure didn't answer at first. Instead, they gestured to the burning horizon. "This is what will come. The future you must stop—or embrace, depending on the choices you make."
Levi's eyes followed the gesture. In the distance, a towering citadel of flames rose from the earth, its spires reaching toward the blood-red sky. Figures, indistinct and shadowed, were gathered before it, their bodies bathed in fire. Levi's pulse quickened. There was something about the image that felt so familiar, so close to her own life. But how?
As she tried to take in the vision, the ground beneath her feet began to tremble. A tremor ran through the dreamscape, and the vision of the citadel warped, shifting violently as if the future itself was being altered before her very eyes.
"Stop this," she whispered, her voice shaking with the weight of the revelation. "What does this mean? How do I stop it?"
The cloaked figure turned, their face still hidden, but Levi could feel their eyes on her, their gaze piercing through the very core of her being.
"It is not you alone who will decide this fate," they said, their voice like a low murmur in the wind. "You are not just a witch, Levi Rose. You are the key to something far older. And like Eloria before you, you must choose: Will you break the cycle, or will you set the world on fire?"
Before Levi could respond, the ground split wide open, the flames reaching toward her with terrifying speed. Her body lurched forward as if caught in a violent wind, but she couldn't move.
The world was burning.
The vision faded.
And just like that, Levi was back in her apartment, lying in her bed, the weight of the dream pressing down on her chest like a stone.
She gasped for air, her pulse racing. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her hands trembled as they gripped the sheets. The sigil on her palm had vanished, leaving only a lingering warmth.
What did it mean? What did Eloria want her to do?
The words echoed in her mind: "Will you break the cycle, or will you set the world on fire?"
Levi squeezed her eyes shut, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The dream had felt so real—too real. She knew deep down that the future she had seen wasn't just some twisted vision. It was a warning.
And she had no idea how to stop it.
Rue Pendragon paced down the dimly lit alley, his thoughts clouded by the haunting vision Levi had shared with him. The weight of the prophecy, the burning future, pressed on his chest, threatening to crush him with its impossible burden. He had seen enough of the dreamscape to understand that it was no ordinary vision—it was a warning. Something was coming, something that had been set in motion long before Levi's birth. But what was his role in it?
As he turned the corner of the alley, a sharp, metallic scent hit his nostrils. Rue froze. His instincts flared, his eyes narrowing as his senses sharpened. He had been in this city long enough to know when he was being watched. The shadows themselves seemed to twitch with malice, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
A low growl vibrated from somewhere nearby, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and unmistakably hostile. Rue's eyes flicked to the shadows, scanning for movement.
Then, without warning, the ambush hit.
From all sides, dark figures emerged—demon hunters, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Their eyes glowed with an eerie, unnatural light, and they moved with a synchronized precision that betrayed years of training. Rue's heart pounded in his chest, but he remained still, assessing the situation.
"You've been a thorn in our side for far too long, Pendragon," a voice sneered from the shadows. Rue's gaze flicked to the speaker—an older man with a jagged scar across his face, holding a silver blade that shimmered with arcane runes.
Rue said nothing, but his lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. He wasn't afraid—he hadn't been afraid of death in centuries. But the hunters didn't know what they were dealing with.
The leader of the group took a step forward, raising his sword. "This ends tonight."
Before Rue could react, the first of the hunters lunged at him, brandishing a silver dagger. Rue's reflexes were sharp, and he ducked out of the way, letting the blade swipe through empty air. He countered with a swift motion, his fist connecting with the hunter's chest. The force of the blow sent the man stumbling backward, his breath knocked out of him. Rue's eyes flashed with a feral light.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rue growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The hunters, undeterred, closed in on him. But Rue wasn't prepared to play with them any longer. He could feel the power of his true form—his demonic heritage—stirring beneath his skin, threatening to break free. The world around him seemed to go still, the air thickening with the tension of the moment.
One of the hunters lunged again, but this time Rue didn't dodge. Instead, he let the attack connect, feeling the cold steel of the silver blade slice across his arm. Pain flared, but it wasn't enough to stop him. He could feel the silver searing his flesh, but beneath it, a much older power surged to the surface.
With a snarl, Rue let the transformation take hold. His eyes bled into an inhuman, fiery red, and his form began to shift, his body growing larger, his muscles rippling with dark energy. The hunters recoiled in shock as Rue's true form emerged—a hulking, monstrous demon, wings unfurling from his back and clawed hands extending like talons.
The air crackled with power as Rue roared, a sound that shook the alley and sent the hunters scrambling for cover. His voice, now deep and guttural, reverberated in their bones. "I warned you."
In that instant, Rue launched himself at the nearest hunter, his claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. The hunter barely had time to react before Rue's clawed hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground as though he weighed nothing.
The other hunters hesitated, eyes wide with terror at the sight of Rue's true form, but their hesitation only lasted for a moment. Rue's demonic form was a primal force of destruction, and they were not prepared for the sheer brutality he unleashed. His claws tore through their defenses, breaking their spells and cutting down their weapons with terrifying ease.
Despite the chaos, Rue kept his focus on the leader of the group, who stood frozen, his silver blade trembling in his hand. Rue's fiery eyes locked onto him, and the air between them crackled with an intense, suffocating heat.
"You're not going to win this fight," Rue said in a voice that was both soothing and threatening. "Leave now, or I will make sure you don't leave at all."
The hunter leader, clearly rattled by the demon's display of power, hesitated. His hands trembled around his blade. Finally, with a curse, he dropped the weapon and motioned to the others. "Retreat! This isn't worth dying over!"
The remaining hunters scrambled to escape, disappearing into the shadows from which they had come, leaving Rue standing in the middle of the alley, breathing heavily.
He exhaled, slowly returning to his human form as the heat of his demonic transformation faded. His red eyes dimmed to their usual dark hue, and his wings folded back into his body, vanishing into his flesh. The pain from the silver wound in his arm lingered, but he ignored it. It would heal in time.
Rue wiped a trickle of blood from his lip and muttered to himself, "Damn fools."
His thoughts drifted to Levi and the prophecy that now bound them together. If they were to survive what was coming, he would need to protect her—more than ever. The hunters had been a mere distraction, but something told him that this was only the beginning. Their enemies were growing bolder, and soon they would all be forced to face the consequences of their actions.
But Rue couldn't shake the feeling that something darker was looming—a power even greater than the hunters that would soon come for them all.
He turned and walked away, the city's lights flickering dimly in the distance, as the night closed in around him.
The soft glow of early morning light filtered through the curtains of Prairie Smith's bedroom, but it was the oppressive weight of the night that lingered in her mind. She had spent hours going over the journal, scribbling down notes, trying to make sense of the cryptic words that danced on the pages of the ancient text. Her curiosity about the witch, Eloria, and her connection to Levi had grown with every passing day. It was clear there was something monumental unfolding, but Prairie couldn't yet see the full picture.
That night, however, the lines between reality and dreams blurred.
In the dream, Prairie was standing at the edge of an endless ocean, the waves crashing violently against jagged rocks below her. The sky above was a swirling mass of crimson and black, the air thick with an unnatural stillness. The world felt wrong, like time itself had fractured, pulling at the very fabric of reality.
Then, she saw Levi.
Levi was floating in the middle of the ocean, her body limp and eerily still. The water around her glowed with a sickly light, swirling as if it were alive, and it began to pull her under, drawing her deeper into the depths. Prairie reached out, but no matter how hard she tried, the distance between them grew, as if the universe itself was conspiring to keep them apart.
"Levi!" Prairie called, her voice choked with fear, but the sound was swallowed by the roar of the waves. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a sinking dread, a gnawing sense that time was slipping away, irreversibly.
Levi's eyes flickered open, but they were not the eyes Prairie knew. They were dark, unfathomable, as though they held the weight of centuries of secrets. The air around Levi crackled with an energy that sent shivers down Prairie's spine. The witch's hand reached out toward her, but before Prairie could touch it, Levi was pulled under completely, disappearing beneath the waves.
Prairie's body jerked awake, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She was back in her own bed, but the feeling of suffocation still gripped her chest. Her heart raced, and her hands trembled as they gripped the edges of the blanket. The room felt too small, the air too thick.
The dream lingered, the image of Levi drowning in time seared into Prairie's mind. She could still feel the weight of it—the endless, crushing pull of time and fate closing in on her friend, her witch. The sense of helplessness, of knowing there was nothing she could do, gnawed at her.
But there was something more. Something she couldn't quite grasp.
The dream was a warning. Prairie didn't know how she knew it, but the certainty hit her like a bolt of lightning. Levi wasn't just in danger from the forces they could see—there was something far deeper at play. Something tied to the very fabric of time, something that threatened to tear them both apart.
As Prairie tried to steady her breathing, her mind raced, trying to connect the dots. She had already learned that Levi's power was no accident. That strange sigil on her wrist, the connection to Eloria, the grimoire—all of it was part of a larger design, one that was about to unravel.
And Prairie had no idea how to stop it.
But she had to. She had to help. For Levi's sake. Because in the depths of her dream, she saw the future, and it was one where Levi was lost—drowned—by the very force that was supposed to empower her.
Prairie swung her legs out of bed, determined. She couldn't let that future happen. Not on her watch.
But what was she supposed to do? Where did she even begin?
The question hung heavy in her mind as she stood, the weight of the dream pressing down on her chest. Time was running out, and whatever this vision meant, Prairie knew one thing for certain: it wasn't just Levi who was at risk. It was all of them.