Asher collapsed onto the massive bed, its sheer size swallowing him whole. The pillow beneath his head was plush and smooth, but no amount of comfort could erase the dread pressing down on his chest. The thought of marrying Rowan made his skin crawl—and worse, his powers were useless, numbed by the sedative she kept slipping into his system.
He needed to escape. Badly.
Then it hit him—why hadn't he noticed before? The structure's design was ancient, almost alien, with walls that resembled ocean coral and stained-glass windows like scales. Of course. They were underwater. That's why everything felt so... submerged, so strange. And yet he could breathe.
No water flooded the building, but it pressed in from all sides. The realization made him shiver. To be forced into marriage with a siren—one as brutal and twisted as Rowan—was a nightmare far worse than any he could conjure.
A yawn escaped his lips despite his inner turmoil. He needed to stay alert, to remain vigilant. But his body betrayed him, and sleep dragged him under.
He fell.
Not in a dream, but in a vision that felt all too real. A jolt of pain tore through his body as he landed. Screaming, Asher looked around—and immediately wished he hadn't.
Corpses littered the ground like broken dolls. Blood pooled in rivers. The human race... annihilated. And in the center of the carnage stood Lamia, grinning—a demonic god among a legion of twisted souls, their stolen human bodies smeared with blood.
Asher stumbled backward, overwhelmed by the devastation. His breath hitched, his knees buckling. No one could see him—this was just a vision. Right?
Wrong.
Lamia turned, his blackened teeth flashing in a wicked grin. "Oh, Child of Light… I can feel you. Watching. Afraid. Good."
He approached slowly, shadows writhing at his feet.
"This is your future," Lamia sneered. "Your parents, your friends, your precious Silver Hill... all will fall. And you—" he pointed a skeletal finger— "you will die. By my hands."
Before Asher could react, Lamia gripped his arm, and a searing pain burned through him. He screamed—and in a blinding beam of light, he was torn from the nightmare.
Rain pattered against his cheek. Asher groaned, blinking. He was back—in their home at the Silver Hill skyscraper.
"What the hell...?" he muttered, groggy and disoriented.
A scream jolted him fully awake.
"Asher, we have to leave! The city—it's falling! The dead armies are here!" Hayley burst into the room, sword in hand. A sword he'd never seen her wield before.
"What are you talking about? Dead armies?" Asher asked, dazed.
But then—crack—the floor split apart. A clawed hand tore through the tiles.
"No... this can't be real," Asher whispered.
"Go!" Hayley cried. "Get your sister and run! Don't look back!"
"But I—what about Dad? Why did I leave Paradise High? Why is Rose here?" His voice was frantic.
"This isn't real!" he shouted—but reality snapped into place when the claw plunged into his mother's stomach, ripping her apart before his eyes.
"NOOOOO!" Asher dropped to his knees. "Mom! I'm sorry—about everything, for when I blamed you for the boarding school—I didn't mean it—I love you, please—come back!"
He sobbed, trembling, but the ground ruptured again, skeletal figures crawling forth, more grotesque than nightmares.
Just as his vision blurred from fear and grief, a hand yanked him away.
"Asher! It's Rose—get up!" she shouted, pulling him toward the hallway. "The city's gone. We're the last ones left!"
Asher's heart shattered. "The last... what do you mean—?"
"There's no time!" Rose screamed.
They ran through the collapsing skyscraper. Outside, the city was unrecognizable—just lifeless ruins and crimson skies. Corpses stirred across the horizon, rising to join the horde.
Rose caught the look on Asher's face and swallowed her sorrow. "Come on. Our friends are waiting."
"Friends? I thought you said we were the last—?"
But before she could answer, the undead ambushed them.
They barely escaped, ducking through the emergency exit their parents had once shown them, racing to the river where a massive boat waited.
But the dead were faster. Claws scraped. Daggers flashed. Blood spilled.
Asher thought it was over. Until—
Whoosh.
A black circle of shadows engulfed them. A cold hand dragged them into the void, just as a skeleton lunged for Asher's throat.
They reappeared on the boat.
Asher gasped, chest heaving.
Ezekiel stood before him, spellbook in hand.
Slyvia and Ava were there too—but only them.
"Where's Jeremy? Emily? I saw her last—she was alive—"
Slyvia looked away, her voice hollow. "They're gone. Lamia killed them during the battle. The dead witches… they're immune to magic now. We barely made it out."
Asher staggered. "No... no, this isn't happening."
Ezekiel stepped forward, placing a hand on Asher's shoulder. "You have every right to grieve. But if not for Rose… we'd all be dead. Her dragon saved us. She's more powerful than we ever imagined."
Asher's eyes widened. "A dragon? Rose has a dragon?"
Before anyone could answer, searing pain flooded his chest.
He shot up from the bed, drenched in sweat. Heart pounding.
A vision. A glimpse of a future too terrifying to ignore.
Humanity would fall. Lamia would destroy everything. And the dead would walk the earth.
But amidst the chaos… there was a flicker of hope.
Rose.
Asher sat up, eyes burning with resolve. "She's the last dragon rider. The last mage. She's the key—not me. I have to escape and find Slyvia. We need to protect Rose. She's the only one who can stop this."
But the moment he remembered Rowan—her voice, her binding grip—his confidence wavered.
No… getting out wouldn't be easy.
But he would find a way.
He had to.