I was dreaming- or maybe- seeing a vision.

A thick fog permeated every centimeter of the area I was in, but it slowly parted, revealing barren soil and streams of blood. Incoherent whispers could be heard close by, and it seemed that’s where I was supposed to go since it was blocked by the least amount of fog.

I stepped forward, pausing after the occasional clicking or chattering that echoed just at the edge of the white barrier surrounding me.

I have seen more than enough horror movies to know that shouting ‘HELLO’ as loud as I could probably wouldn’t end well. Though, now I could understand why they did it. There was an urge to shout and hope that someone, someone human and, maybe, familiar, replied to me. If that did occur, certainly the risk would be worth it since you’d receive a comfort.

However, this wasn’t real. At least, it didn’t feel real to me yet, so I wouldn’t yell out to people who probably weren't even really there. I kept my eyes forward, ignoring the growing discomfort that only increased from each sound.

Left foot.

Inhuman skittering in the distance.

Right foot.

A sound that resembled a wail, but was too far and too faint to be certain about it.

That’s was pretty much how each step went. There was always a strange noise in between.

That was until I heard a thumping. Not like a heartbeat, but rather something solid being hit against another object. As I thought that far, the fog in front of me cleared, revealing a vaguely human figure.

Underneath a cloth that was drenched in blood, there was someone hammering at something. I observed them closely, refusing to approach any further as I noticed that the streams of blood all originated from that cloak which constantly released tiny drops of blood.

Going by logic, there was no way the tattered cloth on the being in front of me could hold enough liquid to create a single stream, let alone multiple, but there were too many logic-defying phenomena surrounding me for questions to arise now.

The sound I mentioned earlier, the rhythmic bursts of something being struck, came from a boulder in front of the cloaked being.

It chiseled words into the face of the boulder which was obviously flattened beforehand.

“To take your destiny… to wrench it from... the indifferent and unfeeling hands of fate...” It said in a grating voice that made me wince.

Even worse, it spoke in a language unlike anything I’ve heard, but somehow I could understand it clearly.

Each syllable, as grunting a bestial as they were, seemed to scrape across my brain like thousands of tiny shards of glass. I felt physical pain that nearly made me black out, but found relief each time the being paused.

“Crawling like a worm… out of the comfort of warm soil and… into the terrifying unknown… just to perish…”

I was on the ground clutching my head by the time it finished talking. I had begun screaming in pain the entire time too, but there was a sense of separation. Even as my body recoiled in horror, my mind maintained immense clarity. It was a strange sensation, but it allowed me to think about what was being said to me.

“If even the stars in the heavens die, does that mean that all is for naught?”

I listened carefully and forced my eyes open, so I could peek at the being who carved away at the stone. It was only then that I noticed, its pallid hands which were covered in dark veins, hosted six fingers. Exactly like the figure inscribed onto the sarcophagus I received the grimoire from. I shuddered to think of about the thing that hid under that blood-stained cloak.

“Break the promise of inevitability.”

Its words weren't broken sentences anymore. It paused with its chisel in hand and slowly began to turn toward me. I couldn’t help but stare, even as my heart throbbed in sheer panic and my brain screamed at me to look away. The desire to know overcame it all.

I forced my eyes to confront what my body could not and I quickly learned that was a mistake.

Horrifying was too kind of a word.

What I stared at wasn’t human or demonic or ghastly. It was the subject of some twisted joke that evoked the sensation of drowning or suffocating. Having your body thrash around in sheer panic as death came closer was likely the closest feeling to what I felt looking at it– no – to have it look at me.

It ignored my shaking body and the high-pitched, unending, scream that emerged from my mouth and opened its robe blood-stained robe.

I wish I kept my eyes closed.

…

You don’t simply wake up after a dream like that.

Your eyes open, sure, but you don’t wake up. Before relief of escape comes, there is skepticism and caution. I wanted to bury myself under a rock and only peek out after a hundred years had passed just to be safe the danger passed, but I could see that I wasn’t alone.

“You gave us a scare, Casper,” Evanora sat on the edge of my bed, reading a book.

My heart jumped, thinking it was the grimoire, but when I looked it over, it turned out to be her own personal notes on the runes. I looked to my finger and discovered the ivory ring wasn’t present, but a dark red spot was. When I focused on it, I felt it getting heavier.

I guess the grimoire was still with me so I shifted my attention.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked the need to drink water rattled my brain as I staggered out of my bed.

“Careful.” Evanora raised her hand and the clothes on my body pulled at my back, stopping me from falling.

“I’m thirsty,” I croaked.

“I’ll get you some water then,” Evanora replied.

A cup came floating toward me soon after she finished speaking. As soon as it was in range, I lunged for it and gulped it down like a man who had spent a week in the desert.

I wiped my mouth and looked at her before saying what was on my mind after seeing her move clothes and dishware.

“Do you ride a broom around too?”

Evanora shook her head, “We’ve long since abandoned that practice.”

I couldn't tell if she was joking or serious, but she continued on despite that.

“To answer your earlier question, you’ve been sleeping for a week, Casper. Rusalka and the others contacted me and informed me that cold air was pouring out of your apartment. I came as quick as I could, fearing the worst. You were in some sort of coma that altered the area around you, making it unbearably cold for any ordinary people. I prevented it from leaking out as much as I could, so no one else in this building should have noticed with the exception of the witches.”

“I see,” I gave a half-hearted reply.

Seeing my reaction must’ve sparked Evanora’s curiosity as she leaned closer.

“You’re aware of why it happened?”

“Another awakening,” I lied even as she looked over my face with a hint of doubt.

However, she didn’t pursue it and stood up after seeing I was healthy enough.

“I have to go, but I hope you’ll be careful in the future. Your behavior this time was reckless. I really don’t mean to overstep my boundaries by imparting you with some responsibility that you didn’t ask for, but what you did could’ve endangered Rosemary and her family. What happened to you counts as using your gift in public which is strictly prohibited in this country like many others. If you knew it would occur, or felt it happening, I only wish that you would have warned them. Your secrets are your own and I made sure everyone would respect your privacy going forward, but you risked your freedom by acting rashly. If there comes a time where a similar situation might occur, we can protect the area with hexes and charms. If you don't want our protection, then at least give them a chance to leave.”

“S-Sorry,” I answered back, a bit taken off guard by her stern tone.

After what felt like a motherly lecture, Evanora departed, leaving me a tad guilty. The safety of the Rosemary and the others weren’t my responsibility like she said, but if it wasn’t for them I would have been discovered and arrested without a doubt.

However, the guilt passed, I didn’t want to weigh my actions against their own, but the way they went about getting to me wasn’t exactly right. Each time they tracked me, I was forced to see my dead mother. So, I considered us even at the moment.

Turning to the mark on my finger, I concentrated on it on, and the ivory ring surfaced from my finger. It was a bit unsettling to see, but I had already seen something far more horrific. I couldn't recall it, but I vividly remember the fear that stemmed from seeing it.

The grimoire came to life unfolding in front of me revealing the changes that occurred while I was asleep.

The two paths you've chosen have brought you onto the path of the unknown. The skills and knowledge you’ve learned thus far have been shattered and remade to fit accordingly.

You cannot advance further on the Path of the Death Bringer until certain requirements are met.

The demon princes of hell gaze upon you with disgust, as a result, you can no longer receive a demon’s brand or access any form of demonic knowledge. All demonic entities will immediately become hostile should you come across them.

Your necromantic skills have changed to fit the Path of the Dread Sorcerer. They must be reacquired through this path to be used.

Path of the Dread Sorcerer:

Nothing on this path can be purchased with souls. Only your desire to learn will lead you to fruitful gains.

The Endless Penumbra: Something is growing within your body… Until you learn to control it, all of the souls you gather will be devoured by it.

Art of Sanguina: To free yourself from the restrictions of the living, you must first control your lifeblood. Once you are untethered, you will find it hard to discover any limits to this art. This art is necessary to advance further on this path.

Art of Mortality: To think that raising the dead is the peak of necromancy is pure ignorance. Only once you explore your own death and gain enlightenment will you gain an idea of the power you could wield. This art can grow based on how many beings are killed by you. Alternatively, a strong understanding of death can further your advancement.

Form of Bones: For a Dread Sorcerer, your body is your greatest defense. To be bent, broken, and crushed is a small price in that regard, wouldn’t you agree?

Form of Flesh: To use this form requires you to act as a medium between worlds. If you use your flesh as a gateway, you may summon spirits to fight for you… for as long as you can withstand the pain, that is. Or perhaps you wish to carve runes upon your skin and make use of their effect for a time?

Song of The Crow: Because you possess an artifact with a small affinity toward death, you can enhance its powers further and permanently bind it to your soul.

Song of Silence: This will summon a death fog in the area around you. The longer your enemies stand within it, the more you can will it to weaken them. You cannot move or speak while using this power as any sound you make will cause the death fog to target your soul.

Penelope’s Song: A unique skill that is the result of walking the Path of the Death Bringer and Dread Sorcerer. Once a month, when the moon is at its brightest, you may meet with Penelope should she be willing.

Breathless Walk: Move as the spirits of the dead do, silent and unseen. Pass through any solid object that is not affected by magic or living. While in this state, you can not harm others. Beings with strengthened perception or eyesight may discover you if you are not careful. If discovered by the living, you will be forcefully removed from this state. In addition, the moment you breathe is when this technique will end.

The Broken Scale: A pound of flesh is the greatest collateral of all. Offer a vital part of your body up and your sorceries will become more powerful. Any part that is exchanged will be rendered unusable for a long period of time.

Stampede of Pale Horses: Call the ones who ride pale horses.

They do not acknowledge your existence, grow stronger to gain their notice.

Touch of Azrael: You cannot accept this in your current state as it would tear your soul asunder.

Inheritor of Thanatos: You are absolutely worthless and will continue to be seen as such until deemed otherwise, Casper Clay.

I read each skill before stopping at the final one. The emboldened letters carried a vaguely threatening tone and whoever or whatever directed those words at me seemed to think I was completely repugnant.