[edited: 05/09/2017]

Something felt different to Remy as she walked through Astracia with Maksim the next day, and it wasn't that she felt slightly awkward after asking him to stay with her last night; the air was cooler, a slight breeze ruffling through her clothes, and each time she walked past someone on the way to the Central Hall, they appeared on edge. There was a dread, too, that was bubbling in the pit of her stomach, though she could not be sure it was not simply because of the atmosphere or because she was worried about Sarah. She forced herself to ignore it all, instead focusing on Maksim.

"If Sarah is in Refilyn," he was saying, his eyes narrowed in determination as he continued the conversation about how he would help Remy's friend, "it means that the Dark Ones managed to find a portal that brought them here from the Mortal World, and I can guarantee that they are hiding it somewhere close. The best place to begin our search is the Central Hall; they have all sorts of records on portals and their locations. I believe that we can find her if we look hard enough."

"And these records are available to anybody?" Remy questioned. Her dread returned, this time stronger; she kept thinking about the image of Sarah that Bliviar had shown to her, and how it might have changed overnight. She had not appeared to be hurt then, but perhaps she was now. She imagined how Sarah must feel, too, trapped in the darkness with dangerous warlocks, and all of this because of her. If she hadn't have run out to Maksim that day in Calderdale, none of this would have happened. It was the first time that she regretted ever meeting him.

"Perhaps not anybody, but you forget that my mother is a Council member. I believe that she will help us if necessary." His arm brushed against her shoulder. He seemed to be walking much closer to her today, and he had not yet made a sarcastic remark—or at least, he had made none that made Remy want to talk to him any less. Whatever had happened between the two of them yesterday, it had changed something in them. She didn't mind. She liked feeling that for the first time he might actually enjoy her presence.

"Your mother hates that we're helping Sarah," she frowned, shoving her hands in the pockets of her red cloak and ignoring the stares of other warlocks and witches. She was beginning to get used to them now and found that it wasn't as hard to keep her head up while being scrutinised as it had been only a few days ago. "Why would she do that?"

"I spoke to her last night." His blue eyes flashed with something—a memory, she thought. Hilda must have said something to him last night that had changed his opinion of her, for she was not self-centred enough to believe that she was the only one who had brought about his sudden change of heart. "She is not all that keen on our idea, but she knows that it is the right thing to do, I think. Perhaps she just feels rather overpowered now that there are two stubborn children in her household instead of one."

"I suppose we are quite stubborn," she agreed, feeling pleased with herself. Hilda was most certainly a force to be reckoned with, so if she had given in to their tenacity, Remy thought it was quite a feat. "Maybe she's finally realised that you're trying your best, and that should be enough."

"What do you mean?" He halted and tilted his head to the side. His red hair was tousled as though he had not bothered to style it this morning, but she liked it better that way, when it was in loose waves that curled around his jaw and the nape of his neck. She thought it made him appear more relaxed, as though the world might not end after all if he did not always remain so uptight. Still, his lips were pursed and his expression serious enough that she knew he had not transformed from his old self completely.

"Well, your mother is constantly on your back about your brother," she explained as cautiously as she could. "I just thought maybe it was time that she accepted his darkness and reminded herself of your goodness. Maybe she finally has."

"Maybe," he said quietly, and a ghost of a smile wavered on his lips, though it did not last for long. A rumble of something unfamiliar erupted through the sky, and Remy looked up to find it filled with threatening clouds that looked about ready to explode with something ominous.

"I thought you didn't get clouds here," she whispered to Maksim, whose eyes were wide with disbelief and alarm. "How is that possible?"

"I do not know." He shook his head and gulped before grabbing her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world and striding forwards much quicker than he had been before, pulling Remy along with him so that she had to jog to keep up. "We need to get to the Central Hall quickly. I have a rather bad feeling about them."

"Is that a warlock thing?" She was mostly asking because she didn't want to hear the sudden burst of panic that was ricocheting through the gathering crowds of people. "Your bad feeling?"

"No," he replied. "It is a common sense thing."

Their breathing ragged, they raced through the throng of witches and warlocks, pushing past people who had stopped dead on the cobblestones and avoiding people who were running frantically to meet others.

With the next crack of thunder, the rain fell, but it didn't take Remy long to realise that it wasn't rain at all; it was a thick black substance that clung to her clothes and welded her hair to her face, just like the rain in her dream. "Maksim," she urged desperately, pulling him back so that he was forced to stop. His red hair was smudged with the black rain, and his face was dotted all over with it. "This was in my dream last night: the rain, the thunder. I think he's sending me—us—a message."

She didn't need to specify who 'he' was; both of them already knew the answer, and it would not do either of them any good to hear that name aloud.

Her skin began to burn from the liquid, but she had expected as much. She wondered how she could possibly be experiencing this horror twice in twenty-four hours, how this could be real, how she could not escape the darkness no matter how hard she tried to.

"We need to find shelter," he said, realising himself that it was blistering his bare skin. He didn't need to fight the crowd when he hauled her through it again; they were all moving in the same way, all of them crying out while those without coats or long sleeves screamed and writhed in pain.

Chaos. Dread. Darkness. It was never ending. People were falling onto the floor as the pain got too much to bear for them, and she wanted to stop, but she couldn't be certain that Maksim wouldn't rip her arm from her socket if she did. Her side ached from so much running, and her vision blurred from tears as the black drops stuck to her eyelashes.

Then, it stopped. They were inside, and as she looked around to find out where, her stomach dropped. It was the empty church from her dream, exactly how she had seen it then, with stained glass windows and debris where the pews should have been. There was an alter at the front where the shadows hid.

"No," she shook her head frantically. "No, we can't be here. We need to leave."

The bustle of other people drowned her voice out so that Maksim had to lean down to hear what she was saying, but she knew that he had when he straightened with a baffled expression.

"Max," she tried to pull him back out of the church, but to no avail. The large, heavy doors were shutting, locking out those that wanted to get in and trapping Remy and Maksim in the process. "Please. We need to leave. I've been here before."

"We cannot go back out there. You will be burnt to a crisp."

"He wanted us to come here!" she shouted then, consumed by her desperation. She didn't care if people heard her, if she was drawing too much attention to herself. All she could think about were the images swimming in her head of Maksim being impaled, of herself burning. "I've dreamt about it, just like I dreamt about the rain and him wanting the key! We are no safer here than we are out there."

She ran to the doors and tried to push them back open, but they were locked. It was too late.

"Remy," he said gently and drew her away from the wooden doors. People were watching them both with strange expressions. She barely noticed. "Calm down, please. It was a dream. It was not real. You are safe."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head, willing him with her eyes to understand even though she knew he could not. He had not felt those dreams the way she had. "The rain was a dream, and now it's real. I'm telling you, Max, he's here."

He opened his mouth to reply, but could not, for the world turned black and she could no longer feel him holding her. She could not hear, could not see, just as she hadn't been able to in her dream last night. She felt herself being thrown against something hard, but the sensation felt distant, as though she was witnessing it from someone else's eyes. It lasted a lifetime.

Then everything was too bright, and she couldn't open her eyes at all. A liquid was trailing down her face that smelt coppery and tasted metallic. Blood.

Her senses awoke and she saw where she was; in the ruins of the church, scattered among the rocks and the rubble. She searched for Maksim in distraught, but came across something altogether different. Carved into the only remaining wall in front of her, the one that she had no doubt been thrown up against in the explosion, were words in a language she very definitely recognised, printed very clearly in what looked like black ash.

FINAL WARNING, MORTAL GIRL.

Then, below it, was a quote, one that she knew she should have recognised but didn't. Nonetheless, reading it sent shivers down her spine.

"THEIR FATE IS IN THE FIERY LAKE OF BURNING SULPHUR."

She did not have time to decipher what it meant. The blackness found her again, and this time, it showed no mercy.