The air was thick with smoke and sulfur. Even the shadows trembled as a colossal dragon, its scales as black as scorched obsidian, hovered above the bloodied skyline. Its wings beat like thunderclaps, shaking the ground with each rhythmic flap, while its eyes—burning twin furnaces—glared down at the chaos below.
Ezekiel turned with a fierce scowl, his fingers already crackling with arcane energy. Every bone in his body screamed to retaliate. "We take it down. Now."
"Don't," Asher commanded, stepping in front of him. His voice was calm, but there was a sternness to it that silenced even the fire kindling in Jeremy's sword.
Ezekiel's magic fizzled out at his sides. Jeremy blinked, half-pivoted toward Asher in disbelief.
"We have to find my mother. That's the most important thing right now," Asher insisted, locking eyes with the beast above. "And by what I've learned… dragons can't be affected by magic."
Just then, the beast shrieked—an unholy, ancient sound that split the skies—and opened its maw. A torrent of flame surged from its throat, racing toward them like a tide of burning judgment.
Jeremy acted instantly.
He leapt into the air, the soles of his boots leaving molten imprints behind as he swung his flaming sword with all his might. The moment the blade made contact with the dragon's flame, a blinding shockwave burst outward. The sword glowed, not just with heat but something older, something divine. A strange, pulsating light surrounded the trio—like a sacred barrier forged from forgotten celestial metal.
Asher's breath hitched. He had never seen Jeremy's sword do that. Not even during the fall of the Leviathan.
"Wha—what's happening?" Ezekiel shielded his eyes as the flame that had nearly roasted them froze in midair, suspended like a massive pillar of writhing fire.
The dragon roared in frustration, clearly confused, thrashing its wings as the fire it had created refused to obey. That moment of hesitation was all Ezekiel needed. He formed a portal, a swirling vortex of violet and shadowy light.
"Go!" he yelled.
He grabbed Asher and Jeremy, hurling them through the portal just as the flames cracked free.
They landed with a wet splash inside a grimy sewer tunnel. The air was damp, filled with mildew, blood, and something rotten. Rats scattered at their arrival. Asher coughed, his lungs stinging from the smoke that still clung to his clothes.
He dropped to his knees.
"We—we made it…" he muttered, voice hoarse. "Jeremy… your sword. You saved us."
Jeremy blinked, still staring at his weapon. The glow had faded now, returning it to its normal crimson flame. "I didn't even know it could do that. It reacted to something… maybe you."
Asher's head bowed.
"If it weren't for you, we'd be ash." His fists clenched. "I'm so useless now. My powers—gone. Like I'm a bystander in my own story."
Ezekiel crouched beside him, lifting Asher's chin gently. "You're not a bystander. You're the reason we made it this far. You gave up your essence to seal the Leviathan. You saved an entire city back then."
"But was it worth it?" Asher whispered. "All this destruction. What if it's because of me? What if I'm the catalyst? If I just—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Jeremy snapped.
Asher looked up, startled.
Jeremy's face twisted in fury. "Don't you dare talk about dying for everyone like it's noble. You're not some martyr we'll remember in songs. You're our friend. You're all we have left."
Asher didn't answer, the words hitting harder than any dragon's flame.
Ezekiel nodded solemnly. "We've lost enough. If you think we'll let you go too, you've clearly lost your mind."
For a while, the only sound was the dripping of sewer water and the heavy breaths of three souls weighed down by the apocalypse.
Then… a noise.
From the end of the tunnel, a figure emerged.
A cloak brushed the damp stone, and a golden mask caught the low light. Asher's breath caught in his throat.
"...Mom?"
Hayley pulled off her mask, revealing a face untouched by the world's horrors—but colder than stone.
"Come. I have something you need to hear," she said emotionlessly.
Jeremy immediately stepped in front of Asher, sword drawn.
"You may be his mother, but I swear to the gods, if you flinch the wrong way—"
Hayley arched a brow. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be a scorch mark on the ground already."
Jeremy didn't lower his sword.
"Really her?" he muttered to Asher.
Asher didn't answer. His stomach twisted. Here he was—after crying for her, believing her lost—and she stood there with no flicker of joy in her gaze. It was as if he meant nothing. Bitterness settled deep within his bones.
"Don't worry," he said tightly. "I trust her even less than you do."
As they followed her deeper into the tunnel, the darkness slowly gave way to light.
They stepped into a chamber—hidden beneath the city—where survivors huddled in silence. Bloodied, tear-streaked, lost. Mothers cradled still children. Fathers stared blankly at walls. The stench of death and despair was suffocating.
Asher's eyes watered.
Hayley turned to them. "This is all that remains of Silverhill. Only fifty of them. The rest… incinerated."
She paused, voice lowering. "And the dead armies have been seen near Golden Gate. Riverlake is under siege."
Silence fell like a blade.
Ezekiel stepped forward. His voice was a snarl. "You knew. You knew Asher had powers, didn't you? And you sent him to that treacherous school alone?"
She didn't blink. "Because I had no choice."
Ezekiel laughed bitterly. "There's always a choice."
Hayley walked to a stone table where a bloodstained map was laid out. "There is one more thing. A last hope—buried in the deep in the book of shadows . But it will cost everything, the book of shadows has the answers of how to end the dragons, dead witches and the armies of the dead." Hayley stopped for a moment.
" But it's in the hands of Lamia. You want to stop this war, Asher? Then you need to go there. You, Jeremy, and Ezekiel. What waits for you may be worse than the dragons. Worse than Zandros. But it's the only way."
Hayley deadpanned, her eeerie words sticking to them like a leech.