Chapter 2

Freya POV

I froze, the ID card slipping from my numb fingers and clattering onto the desk. My brain struggled to process what my eyes were seeing. The fire was massive—easily the size of a person, maybe bigger—burning in shades of dark red and flickering orange that cut through the rain like the water wasn't even there. And there was something in it. A shape. A person-shaped shadow at the core of the flames.

"What the—"

The fire was getting closer. Fast. Too fast.

I shoved my chair backward and scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping over my own backpack. My hands came up instinctively, as if that would somehow protect me from whatever the hell was about to—

It passed through the window.

Not shattered. Not melted. Just passed through the glass like the window wasn't even there, like it was made of mist instead of solid matter. The fireball condensed mid-air, flames spiraling inward and collapsing into a single point before dissolving completely.

Where the fire had been, there was now a person.

A guy.

Standing in the middle of my bedroom, between my desk and my bed, rainwater dripping from his dark hair onto my carpet. He was tall—easily over six feet—dressed in black tactical gear and a long coat that seemed to move on its own. In his right hand, he held a sword wreathed in flames.

But it was his face that made my thoughts stutter to a halt. Sharp features, sea-blue eyes that were almost unnaturally vivid, and when he turned his head slightly, I caught sight of a pointed ear emerging from his hair.

My brain short-circuited.

Oh my god, whispered the part of my brain that had read way too many fantasy novels. He's gorgeous.

Then the logical part kicked back in: But why does he have to show up in a nightmare? If I'm going to dream about someone this hot, couldn't it at least be a nice dream?

"Freya Granger," he said, and his voice was deep and smooth with a slight British accent. "I am Edward Ashford, Captain of Moordale Academy's Night-watch. I've been sent by Headmaster Blackthorn to escort you to the Academy."

I blinked at him. Once. Twice.

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?"

"Ready for what?" The words came out as barely more than a squeak. "I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

My eyes tracked from his pointed ears to his impossibly blue eyes to the flaming sword in his hand. None of this made sense. None of this could be real.

"Why..." I swallowed hard. "Why are you in my dream?"

Edward's expression flickered—confusion, then something that might have been understanding. He opened his mouth, closed it, then fixed me with a look that was equal parts patient and long-suffering.

"This is not a dream, Miss Granger."

"No, it definitely is," I insisted, my voice climbing toward hysteria. "Because people don't just turn into fireballs and fly through windows. And they don't have pointy ears and magic swords. This is just my brain processing stress, and when I wake up—"

The wall behind Edward rippled.

Not like water. Worse. Like the plaster and paint were melting, turning liquid and black and wrong. A viscous, red-tinged substance oozed from the wallpaper, dripping down in thick rivulets that seemed to crawl upward against gravity.

I watched, frozen in horror, as the substance coalesced into a shape. Something with too many limbs. Something with eyes that were just black voids. Something that opened a mouth full of too many teeth and shrieked.

The sound hit me like a physical blow. I clapped my hands over my ears, but it didn't help. The shriek burrowed into my skull, high-pitched and wrong and hungry.

Edward moved.

One second he was standing still. The next, he was between me and the thing, his flaming sword cutting an arc through the air. Fire bloomed where the blade struck, and the creature screamed again—a different sound this time, full of pain and rage.

The thing convulsed, its form dissolving into ash and black smoke. But it left something behind. Where it had died, a dark stain spread across my carpet, viscous and glistening, still twitching slightly like it was alive. The smell hit me next—acrid and chemical, like burning plastic mixed with rotting meat.

I stared at the stain. At the scorch marks Edward's sword had left on my floor. At the faint wisps of black smoke still curling up from where the creature had been.

My stomach lurched.

I pinched my thigh, wanting to get out of this nightmare. But the pain was real. Immediate. Undeniable.

But when I looked up, the stain was still there. The scorch marks were still there. Edward was still there, turning back to face me with those impossibly blue eyes.

"Oh god," I whispered. The words came out broken, barely audible. "This isn't a dream. This isn't—"

My knees wobbled. I grabbed the edge of my desk to keep from falling.

Edward's expression didn't change. He just watched me with the same calm, professional detachment, like watching someone have a complete mental breakdown in front of him was a normal Tuesday night.

"You've been found," he said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "Staying in the human world is no longer safe for you. You need to come with me."

"No." The word burst out of me before I could think. I shook my head so hard my vision blurred. "No, you've got the wrong person. I'm not—I can't be—I'm nobody! You're looking for someone else!"

"The prophecy doesn't make mistakes."

"I don't care about your prophecy!" My voice cracked, climbing toward hysteria. "I'm not going anywhere with you! Just—just leave me alone! Please! I'm not who you're looking for!"

My whole body was shaking now. I could feel tears threatening to spill over, my breath coming in short, painful gasps.

Edward took a step toward me.

I took a step back, my hip bumping against my desk.

He took another step forward, his expression unreadable.

I backed up again, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. My shoulders hit the wall near my closet, and I had nowhere left to go.

Edward closed the distance between us in two strides. The flames along his sword winked out with a soft hiss, and he shifted the weapon to his left hand, freeing his right. He planted that hand on the wall beside my head, leaning in close enough that I could see the faint scar along his jawline, the way a silver earring caught the dim light, the exact shade of blue in his eyes as his pupils dilated slightly.

"Listen carefully, Miss Granger," he said, his voice dropping to something low and dangerous.

He paused, and even without the flames, I could feel the heat radiating from him—not the comfortable warmth of a fireplace, but something wilder, barely contained.

"If you don't come with me right now, I will have to take you by force."

My legs gave out.

Just—completely stopped working. I would've collapsed right there if Edward hadn't caught me, one arm around my waist, the sword vanishing in a flicker of embers as he steadied me with both hands.

For a second, we just stood there. Him holding me up. Me trying to remember how breathing worked, my vision tunneling to a pinpoint and my ears ringing.

Then Edward stepped back, releasing me carefully, like he was worried I might crumple again. The sword reappeared in his hand—no flames this time, just cold steel—and his expression had shifted back to something neutral and professional,as if he hadn't just threatened to abduct me from my own bedroom.

"Come along, Miss Granger," he said, his tone almost conversational now, like we were heading out for coffee instead of fleeing from nightmare monsters. "It's time to go."