Lamia stood at the edge of a crumbling skyscraper in the desolate heart of Silver Hill, gazing out from the balcony as thick plumes of black smoke twisted skyward. The city burned beneath him, a smoldering carcass of chaos and ruin. And yet, amidst the devastation, Lamia smiled—his destruction was a masterpiece. Beautiful, haunting, and complete.
The arrogant wealthy, those who once believed the world revolved around their gold-laced whims, now knelt before his power—possessed by his undead army of witches or slaughtered mercilessly and left to rot in the streets. The lucky ones died quickly. The rest? Not so much.
His eyes swept over the carnage below. Corpses lay in grotesque piles, limbs twisted, faces frozen in terror. Those who had attempted to alert the government were intercepted and beheaded before they could utter a word. The blood-streaked pavements and echoing silence of death fed Lamia's dark satisfaction.
Beyond Silver Hill, nestled on the horizon like a defiant jewel, lay Paradise High and Golden gate—the last beacon of youthful defiance. His fingers curled tightly around the rusted railing. He wanted that place gone. Reduced to ash.
But as he stared toward it, a memory surfaced—the image of the human who had fought him. The only one who had ever come close to defeating him. Lamia let out a sardonic laugh, sharp and mocking.
"Oh, what a mess," he muttered, voice laced with amusement. "A mere 19-year-old human almost besting me? I suppose I should be humbled." He narrowed his eyes, his grin widening. "Very well, Paradise... here I come."
He turned away from the balcony, unshaken, his ambitions clearer than ever. There was only one thing standing between him and the full extent of his dominion—the Phoenix Stone. With that, he would wield absolute control over the darkness, and not even the gods could stop him.
He knew who possessed it—that pathetic witch. The same one who dared defile his name. Foolish creature. She would pay.
It was time they all learned who they were dealing with. During his last encounter with those fragile students, he hadn't even used his full strength. This time, he would make them bleed. He would make them weep. And then he would burn everything they loved.
As Lamia strode deeper into the ruined tower, the air grew colder. A stench of decay clung to the walls like a disease. From the shadows emerged a grotesque being—ten glassy eyes scattered across a decomposing face, clawed hands dangling like broken tree branches. Its voice crackled like thunder.
"What is it, Nymaria?" Lamia asked, plucking a moldy blueberry from a collapsed table and popping it into his mouth. "Found something that threatens my reign?"
The silence from the creature was heavy. Too heavy.
Lamia's smile faded slightly. "Oh, the quiet treatment? That bad, huh?" His voice darkened. "Speak. Now. Or regret it."
Nymaria's voice was jagged and icy. "It's more than bad. The Red Oak Tree... it's awakened. A prophecy was revealed. A divine being is coming—with an army of awakened supernaturals. Among them, a reincarnated goddess... and a dragon reborn."
Lamia's face twisted with fury, then slowly morphed into a grin. He chuckled—a low, ominous sound that reverberated through the room.
"Nymaria, do you lack faith in your queen?" he asked, voice dripping with venomous charm. "You think I'll let a divine being, summoned by an old tree, dismantle the empire I've built?" He scoffed, waving a hand. "Degrading."
Then, his grin widened, manic and cruel. "But fear not. I have a plan. One that will change the tides of fate. Tonight, I shall claim the Phoenix Stone. It will grant us immortality, control over death, and with the dragons on our side once more... the divine being is finished. The balance he protects will crumble. Darkness will take its rightful course."
Lamia stepped forward, shadows trailing behind him like loyal pets. "Our daughters will thrive. Our empire will rise."
Nymaria's many eyes gleamed as she bowed. "It's time for dream traveling, my Queen."
She led Lamia to a hidden chamber. Inside, battered bodies of children—residents of the ruined city—lay on the stone floor, trembling with silent terror. They had been taken as offerings. Their spirits would open the dream gate.
The moment Lamia stepped into the room, the children's eyes widened with horror. They recognized their nightmare. And he smiled in return, baring teeth too sharp to be human.
"It's time," he whispered, lifting his hands.
A dark and guttural laugh burst from his throat, sending chills through the air. From the corners of the room, witches emerged—grotesque, with twisted limbs and jagged claws. They joined Lamia in his cruel laughter, and then—chaos.
The room erupted in a storm of magic and gore. Screams tore through the stone walls as the witches began their dark ritual. Shadows coiled like serpents, ripping into flesh with inhuman precision. Blood splattered across the walls as the children's skins were shredded, their souls pulled violently into the spirit plane.
And in that horrific sacrifice, Lamia's path to the Phoenix Stone was carved.
BACK TO PARADISE HIGH
Asher pulled away from Jeremy's unexpected embrace, lips tingling from the kiss he hadn't seen coming.
"Jeremy... what the hell was that for?" Asher asked, voice low and confused.
Ezekiel's eyes were aflame with rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he stared at Jeremy—the boy who dared touch what belonged to him.
Jeremy took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if it caught you off guard. I know I've been a jerk—ignoring your feelings, pretending none of it mattered. But I can't do that anymore. I need you, Asher. You fill a void in me that no one else can."
Ezekiel's heart twisted painfully. No. This wasn't happening. He wouldn't allow it.
Asher blinked, stunned. "I don't get it. You were clear. You didn't want anything romantic with me. Said being gay would ruin your future. That it was an abomination. So what changed? Don't you care about your future anymore?"
Jeremy looked away, guilt written across his face. He had been afraid. But fear couldn't erase his feelings.
Before he could respond, Slyvia stepped in, anger flashing in her eyes. "Enough, Jeremy! Asher just got back. Instead of checking if he's okay, you're trying to guilt him? That's selfish!"
She wrapped Asher in a comforting hug, gently rubbing his back. "We're just glad you're back."
Rose stood nearby, silent until Asher called her name.
"Rose! My beautiful sister... are you okay?"
Rose blinked, touched by the question. She should've been the one asking him that. And though jealousy had flared earlier at Jeremy's kiss, she wouldn't let it come between them.
"I'm fine. But what happened to you, Asher? Why were you following the whirlwind?"
Ezekiel watched Asher closely. He wanted to speak, to beg for forgiveness, but Asher wouldn't even look at him. The pain of that indifference was unbearable.
Slyvia and Jeremy waited for answers. Asher sighed. They deserved the truth.
"The sirens took me," he said quietly. "Specifically... Rowan."
Rose stiffened. Rowan. The one she thought she'd killed. Was he back for revenge? Because of what she'd done?
Jeremy and Ezekiel exchanged stunned looks. Ezekiel's heart sank. What had happened between Asher and Rowan?
"And?" Ezekiel asked, unable to hide his curiosity, even as Asher continued to ignore him.
"I'm sorry," Asher said. "That part's... private."
Jeremy and Ezekiel looked crushed. But before they could speak, Slyvia rolled her eyes.
"Enough of this drama. I know this isn't just about Rowan. You mentioned something before—something about an apocalypse. Care to elaborate?"
Asher nodded. "Lamia's not gone. I saw him in a vision. He's raising an army of dead witches. If I'm right, he's preparing to launch an attack on our city. On all of us."
The group fell silent. The weight of the revelation was suffocating.
Rose's mind reeled. War was coming.
Slyvia ran her fingers through her tangled silver hair. "We're not ready... none of us are."
"Is that all?" Jeremy asked, watching Asher's pale face.
"No," Asher said grimly. "The veil between the world of the living and the dead has been torn apart. The dead are coming."
Everyone froze.
Then Slyvia spoke. "We need to go to the Oak Tree. Talk to the spirits. Get answers. We're the future of this world. Who's with me?"
Asher raised his hand. "I am. I won't let my family die."
Jeremy and Rose followed suit.
Ezekiel hesitated. He looked like a ghost, drained of all his usual charm. But then he whispered, "I'm coming too."
Slyvia's eyes glowed bright silver. She lifted her hands—and a beam of light engulfed them, carrying them into a bottomless abyss toward the unknown.