It’s not my own, but it pulls me down, down, down until…
Until everything around me shifts.
One moment, I’m surrounded by damp stone and the cold bite of underground air—and the next, it all disappears. The weight of the darkness lifts, replaced by thesudden brightness of open sky and the roar of crashing waves.
Golden sand sinks beneath my feet, warm and soft, as if it’s been sun-soaked for hours. The scent of salt and something sweet—almost like wildflowers—rides the breeze, brushing against my skin. In front of me, a vast ocean stretches to the horizon, its waves rolling in with a hypnotic rhythm. The water glistens like scattered gemstones under the sun, hues of sapphire and jade blending and breaking in the tide.
I blink, trying to ground myself in this surreal scene. I’m on a beach. But not one I recognize.
I’m also not alone.
There are dozens upon dozens of Nephilim loitering on the beach, all focused on something ahead. At first, my body locks up as panic fuels me, but it passes quickly when I realize none of the Nephilim pay me any mind. They can’t see me. At least, I don’t think they can, but I still won’t go out of my way to make much noise to test that theory.
Like a ghost, I weave through the Nephilim. I feel like I’m watching a movie as things become clearer around me. In the back of my mind, I feel resistance, but it’s easy to ignore. It’s like the Nephilim doesn’t want me to see the scene playing out before me, which only serves to pique my interest more. What is this monster hiding that he doesn’t want me to see?
The pressure in my head thrums harder, becoming almost painful.
My vision gets blurry, and the scene around me starts to fade around the edges. “No…” I groan, not sure if I’m speaking out loud or just in my head. I’m losing the connection with the creature quickly, but not quick enough. Flashes of the vision come back to me.
A Nephilim stands at the center of the beach, and immediately, I can tell it’s different from the others. It’s taller, with a more imposing build—muscles lean and defined like a soldier carved from stone. An eye patch covers one of its eyes, and deep, jagged scars mar the side of its face, twisting his features into something cruel and battle-worn.
Beside it sits an old well.
Its weathered stones are cracked and covered in creeping moss, and it looks entirely out of place here—like it’s been torn from another world and dropped carelessly onto the sand. I may not be familiar with beaches, but even I know having an old, ancient-looking well near the shore is strange.
There’s a faint glow emanating from it, making me shiver. Something feels off about it. Evil, a sinister presence, lingers in its depth.
The eye-patched Nephilim is talking, but I don’t catch many of its words. Only snippets.
“Poison.”
“Destroy the fae…”
“…to Pixie Cove…”
“No survivors.”
My head throbs, threatening to split my skull in half. I need to hear more. Need to hear what is poisoned and how it happened. But the pain comes back tenfold, harder than before, and I scream. My vision blurs before the scene around me darkens, leaving me in shadows.
“Evangeline!” someone screams out.
I scream louder. It hurts. Everything hurts. It’s like a knife slicing through my skull agonizingly slowly.
There’s a loud, volatile roar. Chain clanks against stone. The salty smell of the beach is replaced by a mildew smell. And I’m cold. So cold.
“Deathhhh…”an inhuman voice snarls.
Then everything happens in slow motion.
My vision sharpens, and suddenly I’m back in the musty prison.
But something’s wrong.
I’m no longer standing safely behind the others. I’m close now—far too close—to the Nephilim’s cage. I don’t remember walking forward. The air is thick with damp rot and the sharp sting of magic. My heart pounds as I take in the creature crouched just a few feet away, its body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Shouts come from behind me, but they feel so far away, like they’re behind a wall.
The creature doesn’t look at me. Not yet. But the energy in the room shifts—tense and volatile—as dark magic crackles around us, pulsing with a life of its own. The Nephilim’s shoulders tremble as it lifts its arms, and I realize our grave mistake. We underestimated the creature, thinking we had some semblance of control over it. But we don’t. Not even a little.
The Nephilim has simply been lying in wait for us to make the first move. I watch in frozen horror as it summons a swirling orb of black, shadowy magic. More screams come from behind me, only this time, they are louder. Maybe moving closer? I don’t darelook, not wanting to take my eyes off the creature in front of me.
