They arrived at the oak tree.
No, not just a tree.
The air shifted the moment their boots touched the moist moss surrounding its ancient roots. This was no ordinary oak—it was a monument carved by time and nature, a sentinel standing since the birth of the stars. The bark was gnarled with patterns that resembled runes, whispering lost tongues when the wind rushed through its golden leaves. The tree rose into the heavens like a celestial tower, its crown disappearing into the clouds above. A halo of pale green light shimmered around it, alive with a heartbeat older than gods themselves.
The five stood there, spellbound. Not one dared breathe too loudly. The scent of dew and the heavy presence of fate wrapped around them like invisible chains.
Sylvia, usually so sharp-tongued, was mute.
Rose's eyes glowed faintly, flickers of recognition stirring in her irises.
Even Ezekiel, the Lord of the Dead, bowed his head ever so slightly.
Asher took one hesitant step forward.
The tree's bark pulsed.
And then came the voice—not spoken, not heard, but felt inside every bone and vessel.
"Asher."
The tree knew him. It had been waiting.
With a loud rumble that shook the ground, roots slithered aside and revealed a glowing pool of light beneath the oak. Asher was drawn to it like a moth to flame. The others formed a half-circle behind him, breath caught in their throats.
In the mirror-like glow of the pool, scenes began to play. The visions shimmered like silk across the surface.
Asher saw himself—eyes glowing with gold, hair like shimmering moonlight, wearing armor made from woven vines and starlight. He stood on a mountaintop with a staff carved from the root of the world itself.
Protector of the balance of nature.
Controller of the strings of fate.
The divine being fated to restore harmony in a world choked by corruption.
But then the vision cracked.
Darkness bled into the picture. Fire. Betrayal.
And then, the twist of a blade, Into his stomach—not from a stranger, but a hand so familiar, so trusted.
Jeremy.
Jeremy, the divine guardian.
The pool showed him next. He stood proud, divine energy bleeding from a cross-like mark carved into his back and glowing down his chest. His sword—Angel Michael's blade—rested at his side, pulsating with heavenly fire.
Next was Ezekiel, wrapped in shadows. Cloaked in midnight, eyes rimmed with silver. His aura was cold, necromantic. Bones answered his call. He was the Lord of the Dead, commanding the spirits of forgotten eras, but his face was solemn, already showing the signs of rot—his own fate catching up.
And finally, Rowan.
The siren prince.
Hair the color of ocean waves, skin glimmering with a blue sheen, and eyes that shimmered with longing. He stood beside Asher in one of the visions, their hands intertwined. Their souls sang the same song, ancient and tender. Theirs was a love written into the stars.
But nothing was safe.
The tree groaned, the pool darkened. Lightning surged around them.
"One will betray you."
Asher staggered back. The words felt like knives.
"You will not fulfill your destiny… because Jeremy will kill you."
Gasps echoed through the glade. Rose backed up a step. Rowan clenched his fists. Sylvia's eyes widened.
But it was Jimmy—divine guardian Jeremy himself—who fell to his knees, trembling.
"No…" he whispered. "No, no, no…"
His hands reached for Asher, who was frozen. "I wouldn't—couldn't—hurt you. You're the one who holds my heart, Asher. Please… you have to believe me…"
Asher's eyes were full of confusion and fear.
"I don't… I don't know what to believe anymore," he said, voice raw with emotions.
The oak tree's branches twisted again, like fingers drawing back curtains of fate.
New visions bloomed.
Ezekiel saw himself now, eyes sunken, his lips dark with the blood of countless dead. He was standing atop a mountain of corpses, his face unrecognizable—twisted, feral. Shadows had overtaken him. The necromantic powers he wielded had long since poisoned his soul.
The vampire within him, once dormant, had fully awakened. Fangs pierced his lips, and blood dripped down his chin as he roared. The dark powers had consumed him. He had become a weapon the enemies would use to murder Asher, one that will drain Asher neck of blood and end his life.
Ezekiel clenched his fists, pain in his gaze. The grief was palpable.
"I saw it," he whispered. "I saw my end, I will be a tool of destruction."
Then it was Sylvia's turn.
The light showed her past.
The scene shimmered, and she saw the phoenix stone glowing in her hands, and behind her… a statue. Her father.
Her voice caught in her throat.
The same man she had seen in the basement where she found the Phoenix Stone—his eyes carved in sorrow, lips sealed in warning.
The oak whispered:
"Find the truth of your coven's origin. Your father's legacy. The past is buried deep, and your answers lie beneath. Only then will you win the last war."
Sylvia's chest heaved. Everything was beginning to overwhelm her, she was exhausted with all these damn prophesies.
Then the air grew heavier.
The pool shifted to show witches—dead witches—chanting in dark tongues, their bodies wrapped in decay and venom.
But their eyes were alive.
Immortal.
"The dead witches… they're becoming immortal," Rose said in horror.
And then…
Rose.
Or was it Lucinda?
The image showed Rose commanding a dragon—a massive beast of black and gold. Her hair was flaming red, her eyes glowing with fiery determination. She soared across the skies, her scream resonating with power.
Rose gasped.
"That's… me?" she asked, voice shaking.
Asher couldn't breathe.
"She was your sister, but no longer" the tree said. "Your blood. Was replaced with someone soul."
"She is the dragon reborn."
And with her, came the only way to defeat the witches.
But if the Phoenix Stone fell into the wrong hands—if the witches used it to command the dragons first…
The battle would be lost.
Asher trembled.
Jimmy fell to the floor in tears.
"No… I can't let this happen. Asher, I swear I won't betray you. I won't. Please, believe me…"
Asher looked down at him. His heart was a warzone.
But the oak wasn't done.
"Seek the goddess. Ava will help you."
"Sylvia, guard them. You will know the way to the dragons through the Phoenix stone you wield . Summon the beasts before the demons do."
"Lucinda, your memory will return. It will hurt. You must endure."
And with that, the world cracked.
They were thrown back, spiraling through light and shadow, and landed in Oblivion.
Back to the real world.
Asher's lungs screamed for air. He gasped, clutching at his chest. The others groaned, rising slowly.
Silence.
"Is… is that it?" Asher asked.
He looked up at the sky.
"That was useless. It didn't help us—"
"You're wrong," Sylvia interrupted.
Her voice was low, but firm.
"It told us enough. We have to find the dragons, so we have the Phoenix stone; we have to go. Now. Before anyone else does. We can't let the students start asking questions."
Asher stood, brushing off dust.
His eyes drifted to Ezekiel.
The necromancer stood stiffly, his face even paler than usual.
"Ezekiel?" Asher asked. "You good?"
Ezekiel swayed.
Then his knees buckled.
Blood poured from his mouth—thick and dark, like tar.
He fell hard to the ground, gasping, his hands clawing at the earth.
"EZEKIEL!" Asher screamed, rushing to him.
But it didn't stop.
Blood turned to sand.
Sand to mud.
Mud to maggots.
They poured from his mouth in a horrific tide, crawling across the earth and writhing in the moonlight.
Rose screamed. Sylvia stumbled back in horror.
Rowan stood frozen, his hands covering his mouth.
Asher dropped to his knees beside Ezekiel.
"NO—no, no, no—don't do this to me—stay with me!"
Ezekiel's eyes were wide in terror, tears falling down the sides of his face.
"I—saw—everything…" he whispered. "The end… I saw it…"
Asher clutched his face.
"You're not done, you hear me? I won't let this consume you."
But the maggots kept pouring.
The scent of rot was thick in the air.
Jimmy dropped beside them, grabbing Ezekiel's hand.
"We're not losing anyone today! Not now!"
But the oak's prophecy still rang in their ears.
One of you will betray him.
One of you will fall.
And the world will burn.