Makaela awoke in a dark corridor.

Torches burned on the stone walls, cascading their flickering, reddish-orange light across the stone ground. At the end of the hallway, there was a purple curtain. Three hooded figures stood in front of it, speaking in hushed tones with their heads facing away from her.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep holding her father's spell book. A scowl gripped her lips. She was supposed to be packing. They were leaving the chateau soon. Running away again from the Order of the Black Lotus.

None of that mattered at the moment, though, for she was elsewhere now.

She peered at the three people on the other end of the hallway. Her eyes narrowed.

This is a dream.

She was no stranger to vivid dreams. They often felt so real she couldn't tell them apart from reality. Countless nights were spent waking up screaming from them, terrified of the visions filling her mind. It sometimes took her minutes to realize she was awake again.

She could already tell this was another one of those dreams.

Her eyes settled on the trio ahead of her. They hadn't noticed her yet. Strange. She wasn't even hiding.

Blinking rapidly, she approached them.

"Where is he?" one of the figures asked. His voice was gruff and coated in a German accent. A silver vulture mask covered his face. "It's almost time to leave."

Makaela sneered.

A Shade.

They all were.

"He went to look for the little prince," another answered. This one was a woman with a rabbit's face covering her own. "The Obscurio is gone. He thinks he took it."

The third Shade, donning the face of an owl, scoffed. "He wouldn't. He's not that bold. Or stupid."

"Who knows what he's capable of. You've seen how he gets during training. Perhaps the stress finally got to him."

"Thorian's going to kill him if he took the ring."

Makaela was standing right in front of them now. They still hadn't seen her.

She was starting to think this wasn't a normal dream.

Usually, they were just a collection of images. A bright sun. A shadowy figure in a dark graveyard. Fangs ripping open bleeding flesh. But never had she been placed into a scene like this. She was observing an entire conversation between Shades.

Something told her this was actually happening, and she was just listening in.

Despite all the questions swirling around inside her head, she kept her attention on the three Shades speaking before her. As they continued to speculate, a loud pop sounded on the other end of the hallway.

Makaela and the three Shades spun around simultaneously.

Black smoke swirled across the stone bricks. The torches flickered and swayed, their flames nearly extinguishing from the sudden burst of cold that entered the corridor. The smoke dissipated, revealing a tall, spindly man. The silver jackal mask covering his face conformed to the sharp angles of his head. A platinum-colored braid fell across his shoulder. Bony, ringless fingers were clasped together across his midsection.

The trio of Shades dropped down to one knee, lowering their heads in submission. He regarded them with a curt nod.

Makaela's lip curled at the sight of him.

She recognized that mask. She recognized his bone-white skin and rigid stance.

Thorian.

As much as Makaela hated who she was looking at, she couldn't help but respect the sense of authority he held. Without speaking a single word, he had gotten his subjects to bow to him as if they were peasants. Then again, he was a king.

Her father never had that type of presence, despite once being the ruler of magicians himself. Pierre had been many things, but menacing wasn't one of them. He was practically a pacifist, opting to use violence as a last resort.

She often wondered if that's what led to his death.

"Where's Sebastian? Did he have the ring?" Rabbit Face asked.

Makaela sucked in a breath at the mention of the man's son.

Sebastian...

His name was almost foreign to her. Like a forgotten memory that had been scrubbed from the database of her mind. A trace of it remained, a stain in her psyche. A deep frown marred her full lips.

Thorian didn't answer.

Vulture Face urged the rabbit to be quiet. She grumbled an apology, her head still bowed.

"Is the mission still on, sir?" Owl Face inquired. He sounded a bit older than the other two.

Thorian nodded. "We'll be leaving shortly."

"And what of the Obscurio?" Rabbit Face blurted out. The other two Shades snapped their faces toward her. Even though they were masked, Makaela could feel the disapproval emanating off of them.

Makaela watched on intently, awaiting the man's answer.

The Obscurio...

Her eyes widened.

That was House Tenebris' artifact. She remembered the name from one of Xander's lessons. According to him, it was the twin to the Illumio.

Annoyance flashed across her face at the thought of the ring. She still couldn't believe all of this was over a piece of jewelry. Had it been up to her, she would've just given it to him. She didn't even know why they couldn't.

Thorian's plan for the artifacts was still unclear to her.

Whatever it was, she didn't need it involving her. If relinquishing her house's artifact kept the rest of her family safe from harm, she would've done it in a heartbeat. Though, something told her Thorian would still kill her if she did so.

That was just the type of man he was.

"The whereabouts of the Obscurio don't concern you, Yuri," Thorian finally answered.

Makaela approached him with her fists balled at her side. She glared at his mask-covered face, watching as he stared through her. She wished she wasn't dreaming. She wished she was actually standing in front of him so she could punch him in the throat.

She examined him, circling the man like he was an exhibit at a museum. While his robes covered most of his neck, she spotted a few veins sticking out against his alabaster skin. They were dark and thick, filled with what looked like black blood. She screwed her face at him.

Was he sick? She didn't know any illness that did that, though.

She hoped he was. Perhaps it would kill him before she did.

"Meet the others at the portal room," Thorian told his Shades. "I'll be joining you shortly."

Portal room. Makaela blinked, the gears in her mind turning as she finally worked out what was going on.

Shadows pulled toward Thorian's feet. In the blink of an eye, he had sunk into them, vanishing into the floor. The trio of Shades copied his disappearing act, leaving Makaela alone in the hall. She remained there, frozen. An invisible force gripped her neck. Her hands trembled as realization set in.

The Shades were mobilizing.

That meant they found her.

Panic pooled at the base of her stomach, slowly creeping up through her ribs and eventually settling in her throat. Her mind went into a frenzy. She needed to get out of...whatever this was. She had to warn her family.

Backing into a corner, she started to hyperventilate. She sank to the floor, her bulging eyes frantically searching for an escape. There was no doorway. No staircase. No magical portal to transport her back to her bedroom.

She was trapped.

Oh no...

Angry tears sprung in her eyes. She ran up to one of the walls and banged her fists against the bricks. It felt like she was hitting a cloud. She wasn't truly there; it was just a projection of her.

She closed her eyes, hoping it would stop her head from spinning. Shuddering breaths left her cold lips.

In the distance, she heard her name.

As she did so, the sound of someone calling her name echoed around her. It was small at first, but the voice gradually got louder until it felt like someone was pounding on her eardrum.

The sound shook the walls. Her dream state began crumbling away like a sandcastle caught in the tide. Spots began to fill her vision. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, her head full of blinding noise.

She was waking up.

❁

"Makaela!"

Lightning seemed to spark up her muscles as she jolted awake. Her breathing was choppy and labored as she shot up from the bed. A thin coat of sweat had formed on her blazing forehead. Her skin was clammy and warm to the touch.

Rubbing her eyes, she squinted at the person beside her. Her uncle stood at her side, worry lines etched into his face.

"Are you alright?"

She tried speaking but the words tumbled out of her mouth, nothing more than unintelligible babble. Across the room, she peered through the wide window taking up the whole wall. Through the curtains, she could see the rain outside had stopped. She could also see the sun had set ages ago. The sky was a deep black, stars dotting the heavens. A thick, mist hung in the air outside her window. Night was upon them.

"How long was I asleep for?" She sounded like she was gargling gravel.

Olivier paused for a moment. "A few hours. I came to wake you so you could finish packing. We need to get going."

Exhaling loudly, she hung her head. That was right—they were leaving. She swung her legs over the bed and stood up gingerly. Her legs felt like they were made out of jelly. As she took a step, the contents of her dream slammed into her with the force of a blasting spell. Her knees buckled. With her head buzzing, she dropped back down onto the bed.

Thorian. The Shades. They were on their way to the chateau.

She whipped her head toward her uncle.

"I have to tell you something—"

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. Now that he was sure she was alright, the disappointed look he wore earlier during their argument returned. "I think you've said enough for today." He picked up her bag of clothes from the ground and tossed it at her. "Finish packing. We're leaving in a few minutes."

"No, you don't understand. We're—"

"You're not listening, Makaela. Finish packing your things. Now."

He was the one who wasn't listening. She figured this was what it felt like when people tried arguing with her. But now wasn't the time. He needed to know what was about to happen. She had to save them.

She threw the bag onto the ground and glared at Olivier.

"I had a dream...I think." She rubbed the back of her neck as she tried to recall the nature of the experience she had just moments ago. Swallowing hard, she continued explaining. "I don't know where I was, but I saw Shades. I saw him."

Her uncle's face paled. "Are you sure it was a dream?"

She let out an exasperated groan. Her fingers flew to her matted curls, pulling at the tangled strands. "I don't know! But it was real. I know it was real. I know it was. Thorian...he's planning something. He's—"

Olivier's face lit up. Her words faltered as she shot him a confused look.

"What?"

"You dreamwatched."

"I did?"

"Of course you did!" He facepalmed. "You've always been a vivid dreamer. Your mother was a dreamwatcher as well. It only makes sense that you'd turn out to be one too."

"Huh?" His words hadn't confused her. His lack of urgency and alarm did.

She knew what dreamwatching was; it was a type of psychic magic only a small percentage of magicians ever attempted to learn. An even smaller percentage mastered it. The skill involved projecting one's consciousness into another location, often with intentions of spying on others.

Whether she was dreamwatching or not was irrelevant right now, though.

They needed to prepare for an attack.

"Dreamwatching is an incredibly rare discipline, Makaela. Those gifted in the psychic arts are often said to possess this ability," Olivier beamed at her proudly.

Psychic arts?

"But our people are lightweavers."

"Yes, but the strongest magicians often aren't limited to one discipline."

A cocky smile surfaced on her lips. She quickly got rid of it. Now wasn't the time. "Did you not hear what I said? Thorian is coming. The Shades are on their way here."

Olivier's expression darkened. "Right." He turned and walked briskly to her door. "Grab your stuff. We leave now."

This time she didn't argue.

She rushed into her closet and finished stuffing clothes into her bag. Once she finished, she slipped on a pair of shoes, grabbed a lightweight coat, and headed for the door.

Olivier had left the room, likely to tell the others. As she entered the hallway of the second floor, a crash echoed throughout the chateau.

Her blood turned to ice water.

The entire mansion went quiet. She stared down the hall leading to the staircase up ahead. Danger lurked at the bottom of the stairs, she knew it. Still, she made her way toward them. She concentrated vitalae to her casting hand, preparing to shoot off an attack at whoever might've been at the base of the staircase. Shivering slightly, she tiptoed down the stairs. Once she reached the bottom, she raised her hands and got into her dueler's stance.

The front door of the mansion had been blown to splinters. Three Shades stood just inside, their silver masks shining with moonlight. She recognized them all from her dream. At their feet laid a body.

It was Olivier. 

A smoldering hole presented itself on the back of his woolen sweater. Her emotions ran rampant as she looked upon his still body. Anger. Fear. Dread.

Please. Please not him too...

Her fists clenched. She wouldn't grant Thorian and his lapdogs the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her lip twitched as she glared at them.

The trio of Shades parted, allowing their leader to step through the door.

Makaela flinched backward. She kept her hands raised. The golden mark in her palm glowed with bright, ethereal light.

Thorian stopped and brought his branded palm to his jackal-faced mask. Pulling off the disguise, he smiled at her, revealing his abnormally sharp teeth. "My, my," he mused. "You've grown."

It took every fiber of her being to remain at the foot of the stairs instead of leaping forward to snatch his throat like an enraged panther.

"Is that her?" Rabbit Face asked.

Vulture Face nodded. "That's her, alright. Look at her. Filthy little halfling."

Makaela took a half step backward.

Halfling.

The word always felt like a slap in the face no matter how many times it was directed toward her. Her own housemates referred to her as the "halfling". House Lumaian magicians were of European descent—white. Half of Makaela's lineage hailed from the white beaches of Nigeria. Black. Her mother wasn't even a magician. She was a half-blood. She wasn't truly one of them.

She loved her black skin and the way it shined in the sunlight. She loved her curly hair and wide nose and thick lips. Nothing anyone said would change that. Still, that didn't make the words they threw hurt any less. Keeping her expression neutral, she took a few calming breaths. Her temper was known to get the better of her. But now was a time for control. They outnumbered her four to one.

Now was the time for her to be smart.

Thorian snapped his head toward Vulture Face. "Apologize."

Vulture Face cocked his head. "Huh?"

"Do it!"

Yelping sharply, they mumbled an apology to Makaela.

Her face twisted in confusion. She peered at Thorian with curious eyes.

What is he playing at?

"I don't condone their disrespect," the man told her. Through the slits in his mask, she could see his one good eye staring intensely at her. "We are guests in your home."

"Guests? Is that how you treat your hosts?" She pointed at her uncle. He had started to stir on the ground. Relief displaced her concern. "You're not guests. You're intruders," she spat.

Thorian chuckled. "You remind me so much of Naja. You're the spitting image of her."

Her lips curled into a snarl. "Don't you dare."

He held his hands up like he was innocent. He wasn't. Thorian was the guiltiest person in the room. She would make him pay for his crimes.

"Alright," he began. "I'll skip the pleasantries." Holding out his hand, he narrowed his gaze behind his mask. "Bring me the Illumio, child. No one else has to get hurt."

She bit down on her lip, her gaze averting to her shoes.

Thorian took a step forward. She instinctively inched away from. Stopping, he held out his palm.

"Please...do not make the same mistakes your parents made. They would still be here today if they listened to me. Their pride and ignorance are got what killed them."

"No. You killed them. You're a murderer and a tyrant." Confidence swelled in her chest as she berated him. Memories of that fateful night resurfaced. Hot blood rushed to her head.

"They stood in the way of progress," he argued, his voice strained. "I am on a mission to bring us all back where we belong. Magicians deserved to be one the ones controlling this world." He pointed a long finger toward the door. "Have you seen what the ordinaries are doing to the planet? They're killing it. If we don't stop them, they'll take us all with it." Huffing, he shook his head. "You should be helping me, not fighting back."

She didn't believe a word he said.

He was a liar. He was a thief. He was a killer.

That's all he would ever be to her.

"Makaela, where is the ring?"

She lifted her chin at him, her eyes narrowed. Her mouth stayed shut.

In truth, she didn't even know for herself. The last time she checked, it was in Olivier's study. But with them all preparing to evacuate the chateau, who knows where he stored it. She didn't let Thorian know that, though. He was under the impression she was the guardian of the ring.

If it kept his attention off others, even for a moment, that was fine by her.

Thorian sneered.

Her eyes darted around the living room as she searched for an escape route. The front door was out of the equation. She could've fled back upstairs, but they would strike her down as soon as she turned to leave. The back door was the only viable option. If she could somehow get down the hall...

Her thoughts of escaped were extinguished like a flame in the rain.

Ahead of her, Thorian pressed his hands together. His fingers moved and interlocked, performing an intricate sequence. The movements were sharp, structured. Unlike the free-flowing and lax nature of lightweaving. She didn't recognize the ritual, but she knew what it was.

Shadoweaving.

Dark magic.

Makaela inhaled sharply. She didn't even have the chance to run.

Thin tendrils of crimson magic shot from Thorian's palms. They rushed her, wrapping around her body and stabbing her skin like barbed wire. They pricked at her skin, the pain akin to a thousand tiny needles penetrating her. Pain erupted across her body. She fell to her knees, paralyzed. Her golden eyes rolled back into her head as her back arched. Thorian's attack elicited a glass-shattering scream deep from within her core.

The man advanced, his fingers still twisting as he manipulated his hex. The bright red tendrils of agony-inducing magic continued crawling over Makaela's body, scuttling like spider legs, aligning with the movements of the dark magician's nimble digits.

Thorian took a step towards her, twisting his fingers as he manipulated the hex currently inflicting intense pain upon her entire being. The crimson tendrils of agony-inducing magic crawled over her body like spindly spider legs, aligning with the movements of the dark magician's nimble digits.

"You should have given me what I asked for." He knelt beside her, lowering his lips to her ear. "I always get it in the end."

Through her blurred vision, the pain terrorizing her amplifying with every labored breath she drew, she could see the sinister glint in his eye. She felt it in his words, in his cold breath tickling the side of her neck.

There was no remorse on his pale face. Not a single ounce.

He closed his fist.

Before she knew it, another scream was forcefully ripped from the depths of her throat, echoing down the shadow-filled halls of the chateau.