Levi sat against the cracked, graffiti-covered wall of an abandoned building, her chest still heaving from the close call with the figure in the alley. Her mind raced, the pounding rhythm of her heart syncing with the chaos swirling around her. She had escaped—barely—but at what cost? Rue was still out there, and she knew the hunters wouldn't stop until they had both of them. The weight of it all pressed heavily on her shoulders, each breath feeling like an anchor to the past she couldn't outrun.
As she sat there, the night stretching around her like a living thing, a sudden warmth washed over her. The temperature seemed to rise, but it wasn't from the usual crackling heat of the city. It was something else—something familiar. Something she couldn't place.
She closed her eyes and allowed the memory to take over, the faint whisper of a voice from long ago echoing in her mind.
"One day, you'll walk backward to save us all."
The words hit her like a jolt of electricity, and Levi's breath caught in her throat. The memory was clear now, vivid in a way that startled her. She was a child again, no more than six or seven, standing in the dim light of her childhood home. The smell of incense and earth filled the air, the flickering glow of candles casting dancing shadows on the walls. Her mother, a woman of strange beauty and even stranger power, stood before her, her eyes locked on Levi's with an intensity that left no room for doubt.
Levi could remember the feeling of warmth that radiated from her mother's hands as she cupped her face, the soft murmurs of ancient words, and then the moment her mother's gaze turned to something beyond her, as if seeing into the future. The weight of those words—so simple, yet so heavy—hung in the air between them.
"You will walk backward to save us all."
Levi's mind snapped back to the present as the memory faded, leaving her disoriented and confused. What did it mean? Why had her mother spoken those words? And more importantly, why were they haunting her now?
She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself. Her mother had died when Levi was just a teenager, leaving behind only fragments of her past—fragments that didn't always make sense. But now, as Levi felt the power stirring inside her, it was as though that buried memory was trying to resurface for a reason.
The magic inside her surged again, a pulse of fire igniting under her skin. She exhaled sharply, letting the flames flicker in the palm of her hand. It was as if the words from her mother were tied to this magic—tied to what was happening to her now. Was this what her mother had meant? Was this the "backward" path she had to walk?
Levi shook her head, frustration building. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to understand the full weight of what was happening to her, but the more she resisted, the more the pieces of her past seemed to fall into place. And yet, there was something elusive about it—a key that remained just out of reach.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a distant rumble, the sky above her flickering with sudden flashes of energy. It was subtle at first—like a whispering storm—then it grew, a hum that reverberated through the ground, setting the air thick with tension. Levi's heart skipped a beat. She had felt this before, but only in brief, fleeting moments. The pull of something ancient. Something dark.
She pushed herself to her feet, the memory of her mother's words still echoing in her mind. "Walk backward."
Was she supposed to go back? Back to where it all began? The question burned in her mind as the world around her seemed to shift.
The magic flared again, this time more intense, as though it recognized her inner conflict, feeding off her doubt and fear. Levi knew what she had to do, but the decision was overwhelming. She wasn't prepared to face what lay ahead, not fully, and yet it was clear that the past—her past—held the key to everything. The prophecy, the sigil, the grimoire... they were all connected to this moment.
Levi could feel herself being pulled toward something—an inevitable collision between the future she feared and the past she didn't fully understand.
With a deep breath, Levi made her decision.
It was time to uncover the truth. And for that, she would have to walk backward.
The air was thick with tension as Prairie rushed through the narrow alleyways of the city. The words from the old journal she'd found in the library still echoed in her mind, haunting her with their implications. The Council of Shadows moves in silence, ever-present, ever-watching. It had taken her days to piece together the fragments of information, but now, she was certain of one thing—the Council was real, and they were coming for Levi.
She reached the small, dimly lit café where Levi and Rue often met, the smell of espresso and ink lingering in the air. Prairie pushed the door open, scanning the room quickly. Rue sat at the corner, eyes unreadable as he flipped through a collection of ancient books. Scout was perched on a stool nearby, his face twisted in thought, while Levi was hunched over her phone, her face illuminated by the screen.
"Levi, Rue—everyone, listen," Prairie's voice was urgent, strained with the weight of the news she carried. She could feel the heat of the day seeping into the café, the pressure of what was coming bearing down on her.
Levi looked up first, frowning. "What's wrong, Prairie?"
Prairie took a deep breath. She had to make them understand—had to make them see the danger that lurked in the shadows, the dangers that were closer than they realized.
"The Council of Shadows," Prairie began, her voice low but insistent. "They know about Levi. They know about the prophecy. They're... they're after her."
Rue raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his sharp gaze studying Prairie, as though weighing her words. Scout, on the other hand, tensed. His expression darkened, and he set down his coffee cup with a slight tremor in his hand.
"The Council?" Levi repeated, the unease creeping into her voice. "What are you talking about? Who are they?"
Prairie looked from one face to the next. She could feel the weight of their skepticism. They weren't ready to believe. Hell, Prairie wasn't even sure she fully believed it herself—but there was no denying the truth anymore. The evidence had all pointed to them.
"The Council of Shadows is an ancient group, formed long before the modern witches, vampires, or demons walked the earth," she said, lowering her voice even further, as though afraid the walls themselves might overhear. "They manipulate the flow of magic. Control it from behind the scenes. And if they've discovered Levi…" Her words faltered, the reality of it hitting her like a blow. "They'll do anything to stop her. Or worse—use her."
Levi's brow furrowed, but there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. Prairie could see the pieces starting to fall into place, but there was fear there too, that same fear Prairie had felt when she first learned about the Council's reach.
"And... you think they're already here?" Rue asked, leaning forward, his voice suddenly sharper, more alert. "You think they're already hunting her?"
Prairie nodded, a chill running down her spine. "They're everywhere. They have agents in every corner of the world, but they operate in the shadows, hidden from the public eye. And the worst part? They have eyes everywhere. There's no place safe from them. They control everything—every spell, every grimoire, every magical artifact. If they've set their sights on you, Levi, then…"
Rue stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Then what?"
"Then we need to move. We need to protect her, and we need to get ahead of them," Prairie said, her voice firm despite the fear trembling just beneath the surface. "If we wait, they'll be on us before we even have a chance."
Levi met Prairie's gaze, her eyes dark with understanding. She knew, too, that they were running out of time. "What do we do?"
Prairie bit her lip. "We find out everything we can about the Council. We don't know where they are, but we have to figure it out. If we can stop them before they have a chance to make their move, we might stand a chance."
Scout, who had been eerily quiet up until now, stood from his stool, his eyes piercing. "And if we can't?"
Prairie swallowed, the weight of his question pressing down on her chest. "Then we fight."
The room fell silent. No one spoke for several moments as the words settled between them, heavy and full of unspoken dread. The Council was coming for them. And the only thing they had on their side was the small window of time before the shadows closed in completely.
Rue's voice broke the silence, low and deliberate. "Then we prepare. Whatever it takes, we prepare."
Levi nodded, determination setting her jaw. She might not know everything about her magic, about her role in all of this, but she wasn't going to back down. Not now. Not when the fate of everything seemed to hinge on her actions.
And so, the plan was set into motion. The Council of Shadows had made their move. It was time for Levi and her allies to make theirs.
Rue's body convulsed, pain wracking through him like a thousand searing flames. The infernal magic lashed out at him, tendrils of dark energy curling around his limbs, binding him to the cold, stone floor. His breath came in shallow gasps, each inhalation feeling like fire was pouring into his lungs. The power of the demon tribunal—the high lords of the underworld—was merciless.
The tribunal had summoned him here, to this dim, blood-soaked chamber, to face judgment. They had been threatening him for days. The whispers had grown louder, the weight of their demands more insistent. Now, here he was, bound to the very essence of their cruelty, their hellish magic tearing at his mind and body.
A low growl rumbled from deep within his chest. He fought the urge to scream, fighting the pressure that threatened to break his resolve. He was no stranger to pain, no stranger to the torture of his kind. But this? This was different. This was not the physical agony of battle or punishment—it was the destruction of his will, the corruption of his soul.
"Kill her, Rue Pendragon," came a voice from the shadows, chilling and mocking. It was the voice of Varathor, the high demon lord who had once been his master. "Kill the witch, and this ends. You will be free. Refuse, and you will die by your own blood. Your soul will burn in the pits forever."
Rue's eyes, once blazing with fierce defiance, now flickered with agony. His hands clenched into fists, the chains of dark magic rattling around his wrists. The power seeping into him felt like a thousand knives cutting into his skin, each one more intense than the last.
He had been here before. He had made deals with demons, had slaughtered without mercy to survive, had done unspeakable things in the name of survival. But this... This was something different. The power that the tribunal wielded was not merely about control or death—it was about the destruction of his very essence. They wanted him to betray everything he had fought for.
Everything he had come to care for.
Levi.
The thought of her was a flicker of warmth in the dark, like a beacon guiding him through the chaos of his tortured mind. He couldn't—wouldn't—betray her. She was the key to everything. She was the future, and Rue had promised to protect her. He had given his word, and that word would not be broken.
"Kill her," Varathor's voice repeated, sharper now, venom dripping from each syllable. "You know what will happen if you refuse. You know how much pain you will endure. You know how this ends. There is no other way."
Rue gritted his teeth, his body trembling with the effort to remain upright, to resist the force that sought to tear him apart. He could feel his blood boiling, could feel the infernal magic pressing in, trying to crush his resolve. His heart thundered in his chest, but there was one thing that kept him steady—one thing that remained clear in the swirling madness of pain:
He would not let them win.
"No," he muttered, his voice hoarse but resolute. "I will not."
The room seemed to darken further, the shadows growing longer, the oppressive weight of the tribunal's anger suffocating. The demons that surrounded him seemed to revel in his suffering, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of his fall.
"You defy us?" Varathor sneered, stepping forward, his towering form emerging from the shadows. "You choose her over your own life? Your own soul?"
Rue's vision blurred, blood seeping from his mouth, his body slick with sweat, but he lifted his head. "She is not the enemy. I will not kill her. You have no power over me."
Varathor's laughter echoed through the chamber, mocking and cruel. "Fool. You think your defiance matters? We will break you, Rue Pendragon. You will see her dead by your hand, or we will tear you apart piece by piece."
Rue's chest heaved with the effort to remain conscious, but the pain was overwhelming. It was a fight for his life now, for his very existence. The infernal magic coursing through him felt like it was eating him alive, but still, he resisted. The thought of Levi, the fire that had ignited between them, kept him alive in ways nothing else could.
"I will not break," Rue snarled, his voice gaining strength with each word. "I will not betray her. You can kill me, torture me, do whatever you wish—but you will never have my soul."
There was a long silence. Then, the tribunal's anger reached a boiling point, a blast of dark energy erupting from Varathor's hand, throwing Rue against the stone wall. The impact left Rue gasping for air, his body bruised and battered.
But he didn't yield. His spirit remained unbroken.
"You will regret this," Varathor spat, his eyes burning with fury. "We'll see you undone, Rue Pendragon. Your soul is ours. One way or another."
Rue forced himself to his knees, his vision swimming, but the words that escaped his lips were clear and steady. "You won't have me. Not now. Not ever."
And despite the searing pain, despite the odds stacked against him, Rue knew one thing: He would keep fighting. He would never let Levi down.