1.28 – The Dream

Leona startled awake to a chill. Was the heater breaking down? She wrapped her arms around herself, not ready to crack open her eyelids. Her breath fogged in the icy air, and goosebumps prickled across her skin. The blanket she remembered falling asleep under was gone. She shifted, curling tighter, but the cold only sank deeper, gnawing at her bones.

Interrupting her groggy thoughts, a feminine, musical voice echoed faintly through the drafty air. It was hauntingly melodic, yet distant, as if carried on a phantom breeze. “Leona... Leona...” It wasn’t loud, but its clarity was unnerving—each syllable crisp, distinct. The voice seemed neither urgent nor hostile, just insistent, beckoning.

Leona frowned, her heart beginning to thud faster. She blinked into the dark, groggy confusion muddling her thoughts. Was someone calling her? A bright, childlike smile tugged at her lips as a wild thought leapt to her mind: Mama? Dream logic made the impossible feel plausible, and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself the hope that her mother had somehow returned to life.

Yawning, she stretched, rubbing her hands over her face to dispel lingering grogginess. But as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her breath hitched. Grave markers? Headstones? Her hands dropped, and she sat bolt upright.

To her shock, she found herself in a graveyard, its silence broken only by the faint whisper of the voice. The smile that had graced her lips dissolved into a grimace. She yanked her head left, then right, trying to make sense of the scene. Ancient, weathered stones stretched out in uneven rows, bathed in silvery moonlight.

A loud yelp escaped her throat, her pulse now pounding in panic. She scrambled to her feet, the icy ground biting at her soles. I’m still asleep, right? She pinched herself hard, hissing at the sharp sting. Nothing changed. No... this can’t be happening!

Her thoughts spiraled. Is it really Mama? She tried to summon the memory of her mother’s face, which lately felt hazy. She grasped desperately at the details, terrified they were slipping away forever.

But as she glanced down, another horror jolted her senses: she was completely naked. The chill made sense now, but the realization was paralyzing. She spun around, instinctively covering herself with trembling hands.

Fear shot through her like lightning. Who would bring a sleeping girl to a graveyard... naked? Quinn’s pranks were bold, but even she wouldn’t sink to this level.

Had someone kidnapped her? Drugged her? The terrifying thought of what else might have happened—what could still happen—made her stomach churn. And what about Goonie and Quinn? Were they in danger too?

A soft, lilting laugh echoed, so close it felt like a caress against her ear. She froze, clutching herself tighter. The voice was far too sweet, far too gentle, as it crooned, “Leona... Leona... Come to me, my love...”

Her heart leapt into her throat. My love? Alarm bells rang. This wasn’t right. Hell no. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, to push back the rising tide of terror. Her bare feet shifted nervously against the frosted grass.

A pale glow emerged from the swirling mist, drawing her gaze to a nearby mausoleum. It was ancient, its stone worn smooth by wind and time. Faint, silvery light seeped from its entrance, bleeding into the fog, and for a moment, it felt as if the mist itself was alive, whispering secrets.

Leona’s throat tightened. Do I run toward it... or away? What do I do?!

Barely perceptible mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks cloaked in thick fog, boxing her in. She didn’t recognize the landscape—where she was wasn’t San Isidro. The vastness, the isolation, sent another shiver down her spine. Her academic mind tried to make sense of it, recalling geography lessons and images of similar mountain ranges. But nothing was familiar; this was nowhere she’d ever been.

The voice called again, its tone like a lover’s lullaby. “Leona... my love...” It was intoxicating, almost hypnotic.

Run. The thought seared through her panic like a bolt of clarity. She bolted, feet pounding against the cold earth, lungs burning with each breath. There was no direction—just away. Her nakedness didn’t matter now. Nothing did, except escape.

Yet no matter how far she ran, the mausoleum loomed closer with every blink. She swore it was chasing her, the glow brighter now, an eerie beacon drawing her in. She stumbled to a halt, panting, trembling, and turned.

The mausoleum now stood mere feet away, its heavy stone doors slightly ajar, the light spilling out more intensely, beckoning. She fell back, her hands clawing at the ground as the voice sighed sweetly in her ear.

“Come to me, my love...”

No way she’d gotten turned around after spinning away to flee and somehow ended up closer to the mausoleum. No way. Leona’s heart hammered, her pulse loud in her ears. She had zero interest in figuring out how it had happened. This was get-away time. She pivoted sharply, ready to bolt again—

Her breath caught in her throat. Every direction she turned led straight to the mausoleum. She spun to the left—there it was. Whirled to the right—the same grim structure loomed, unwavering, unavoidable. The towering mountains at the edges of her vision mocked her with their distant, cold indifference, offering no escape.

With a trembling step forward, she felt the awful truth: every step was toward it.

Her panic sharpened as she tried walking sideways, eyes locked on the looming mausoleum, her bare feet dragging across the ground in slow desperation. She even attempted walking backward, watching the structure like it was a venomous creature poised to strike. But nothing worked. No matter how she moved, she only drew closer.

Leona’s mind raced. Stop moving? Just stop moving! But her body rebelled, an unseen force compelling her forward. She fought it at first, teeth clenched, every muscle taut with resistance. But exhaustion and bitter cold gnawed at her resolve, sapping the fight from her limbs. It’s useless. Her steps slowed, then stilled, the mausoleum now impossibly close. She exhaled in resignation, her breath visible in the frigid air, and steeled herself. Whatever waited inside, she’d face it.

Her skin prickled with cold, the chill cutting deep, her body trembling violently now—not from fear, but from the gnawing bite of the freezing air. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, her lips tinged blue. A part of her, distant and detached, wondered if this place would kill her by cold before anything else had the chance.

The massive stone pillars loomed ahead, cracked and weathered, heavy with age and shadow. The thick mist curled around their bases, swirling like tendrils of smoke, parting only when her bare feet disturbed the vapor. The door between them, wreathed in fog, gaped open like a mouth ready to swallow her whole.

She stepped inside.

The air changed, thickened, but the temperature didn’t ease. It still felt like a tomb. She hugged herself, breath clouding before her face, and blew into her cupped hands, trying to summon some warmth. It didn’t help. She hopped from foot to foot, moving purely to stave off the cold.

The mist seemed to recognize her, shifting lazily along the floor, swirling in slow, hypnotic currents. Every step she took made her feel smaller as the mausoleum pressed in, the oppressive silence broken only by the soft echo of her own footsteps.

Leona rounded corner after corner, fingers brushing against the stone walls to keep her balance. Dust hung thick in the air, clogging her lungs with each shallow breath. Yet as she ventured deeper, the icy chill began to ebb, and warmth—artificial and strange—crept back into her bones. The mist thinned as well, its presence less suffocating, but the oppressive dread remained.

Finally, she stumbled into a broad chamber. Her breath hitched at the sight of the coffin, dark and elaborate, resting at its center like some malevolent prize. It was the only thing in the room, unmissable. As she approached, braziers flared to life on either side, igniting with deep purple-black flames. They cast no heat, only shadows, and the flames flickered with an eerie, unnatural rhythm, their glow bathing the coffin in a sickly light.

The voice resumed, smoother now, seductive. “Leona... Leona... Come to me... almost there...”

Her feet betrayed her, inching closer despite her mind screaming no. She clenched her fists, heart pounding, terrified of what might happen next. Her thoughts raced through every horror trope she’d ever known—zombies, vampires, demons—but nothing prepared her for what she saw.

With a sudden, violent crack, the coffin lid burst open.

Leona stumbled back, gasping, her stomach twisting. Rising from the coffin with an unhurried grace was a woman—beautiful, terrifying. Her jet-black hair cascaded down her bare shoulders, her skin a dusky, flawless shade. She was as naked as Leona, her form statuesque, every movement a sinuous, deliberate tease.

Leona’s eyes widened in shock, her face burning as black wings unfurled from the woman’s back, vast and sweeping, stretching until they filled her entire field of vision. The wings’ edges brushed against the flames, rippling like silk, and the woman hovered effortlessly, levitating above the coffin.

She yawned, exaggeratedly languid, as if waking from a centuries-long slumber. Her lips curled into a lazy smile, her teeth glinting in the purple light.

Leona averted her eyes, face flushed, heart hammering. Great. Of course, her captor was a pervert. And, clearly, a super-powered one. Just her luck.

The winged woman’s laughter echoed like a melody, rich and mocking, as if she could read Leona’s mind, savoring her fear and confusion. She remained still, lounging midair with an unnatural grace, her predatory eyes glinting in the purple-black light.

"So, you’re my Leona,” she purred, her voice as velvety as sin. “Welcome. It is, of course, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I won’t bore you with introductions. No, let’s talk about the wonderful opportunity that lies before us instead."

Leona clenched her fists but said nothing, trembling—not from the cold now, but something deeper, more invasive. The woman’s words were like a slow, insidious poison, sliding into her veins.

“Your concern for your friend,” the woman continued, her lips curling into a smug smile, “paired with that delicious bitterness… It called to me so sweetly. Such a pure heart you have—how could I possibly resist such an invitation?” She stretched lazily, her wings shifting, their inky expanse nearly blotting out the surrounding flames. “Ah, my sweet Leona… You crave power, don’t you?”

Leona’s jaw clenched tighter. Don’t listen. Don’t talk with her. Don’t acknowledge her.

“Oh, yes,” the woman cooed. “The power to fly, to escape gravity’s chains. To become unrestrained, to take whatever—or whoever—you desire. Sarah’s parents, for instance…” Her voice dripped honey. “Wouldn’t you like to smite those who dare to stand in your way?”

Leona flinched, her breath hitching at the mention of Sarah. The woman’s voice wrapped around her like a noose, each word tightening it. She remained silent, fists trembling with the effort to stay composed, but the woman’s smile only widened.

“For those friends who abandoned you,” her captor continued, voice softening into a mockery of sympathy. “The ones who found their own loves while yours went unrequited. The ones who ignored your cries for help. You think Quinn and Goonie can fill the hole in your heart? You’re alone, my dear. Utterly, painfully, dreadfully empty.”

Leona’s chest ached, the words digging deeper than she’d expected, but she bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, refusing to show weakness.

“But you can have more,” she whispered to Leona, her voice soft and intimate, drawing closer. “More than the scraps life has offered you. Don’t you want to prove your worth to your family? To show them how much you can give back? The entire world, my sweet.” She leaned in, her smile blindingly radiant, but the gleam in her eyes was sharp, laced with cruel amusement. “I am the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

Her words dripped like honey, but the chill in her gaze betrayed them. “And such a sweet thing you are.”

Leona fought the tremor in her limbs, every instinct screaming for her to run. Running will only take me closer, she reminded herself bitterly, her breath shallow and uneven.

“No…” Leona gasped, voice trembling but defiant.

The woman’s expression shifted, her softness melting into something colder, more calculating, eyes narrowing with an edge of disdain. “And yet, there’s a fire in you, isn’t there? A desire to strike back at those who’ve rejected you, the ones who’ve slapped your wrist and denied you.” She stepped closer, her gaze hungry, predatory. “That defiance... that is what I like most about you.”

Her words hung in the air, sweet and venomous, like an invitation to something darker.

As she spread her arms wide, her wings seemed to extend like jagged jaws, framing her in an embrace that felt more like a trap. “And so, I offer you everything—”

“BLACK ANGEL! IT’S YOU!” Leona’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and loud, breaking the villain’s hypnotic monologue.

For a fraction of a second, Black Angel’s eyes widened, her smile faltering ever so slightly. But it returned, smooth and composed, her lips curling once more. “Naturally,” she said, voice dripping with condescension. “Do keep up.”

Leona’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She took a shaky step back. “But… you’re dead.”

“A lamentable half-truth,” Black Angel replied with an elegant shrug. “I suffered… a minor setback. But look at me now.” She spread her arms again, flourishing as if performing for an invisible audience. “Do I seem like a ghost or zombie to you?”

Leona refused to meet her gaze, watching from the corner of her eye as Black Angel posed, flaunting herself with pride. The woman’s body was flawless, a cruel contrast to the rot and decay she should have embodied as among the dead.

“No,” Black Angel continued, her voice turning sweet again, dripping with mock concern. “No flesh hanging from my bones, no desiccated corpse here. So why fear a dead angel, hmm?”

Leona’s blood turned to ice. “Because you’re a monster.”

“Good,” Black Angel purred, her grin widening. “Now, with the pleasantries done, let’s move to business.” She raised a finger, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’ll show you what it truly means to live. You, bound by rules and systems. You lack what you need to change the world. But I can give it to you, Leona.”

Instead of running, Leona dropped to the cold stone floor, folding her legs beneath her and closing her eyes. She inhaled deeply, trying to center herself. Dragonmage had told her that she supposedly had some mystical talent. Could she wish all this away? Either way, it was a protest—a refusal to engage on Black Angel’s terms. She needed clarity, and she needed it now.

“Oh?” Black Angel’s voice dripped with amusement. “What an interesting tactic, Leona.” 

The air stirred, and suddenly the villain was right in front of her, too close. The space between them vanished in an instant, and Leona felt the cold presence of those wings like shadows blotting out the last of the light.

“You can’t escape me,” Black Angel whispered, her breath warm against Leona’s cheek. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Leona's breath came in ragged, panicked gasps as Black Angel’s fingers lifted her chin, delicate yet unyielding. Her eyes fluttered open involuntarily, and there it was—the orb Sarah had gifted her, the one containing the soft tuft of gray down. It shimmered with an eerie, unnatural glow now, cradled in Black Angel’s hand as if it had always belonged there.

“Accept my gift, Leona,” Black Angel purred, her voice smooth, but laced with dark intent.

“No.” Leona turned her head away, her teeth clenched in a desperate attempt to resist.

“Tsk, tsk,” the villain chided, her voice dripping with condescension. “No matter how hard you try to run, my dear Leona, you can’t escape me.” She tilted her head, her expression morphing into one of mock curiosity. “Though I must admit, I’m curious—why cling to that name you took for yourself? Is being a woman so important to you? I can give you that, once and for all, without all the pain and suffering. All you need to do is embrace me.”

Her words slithered into Leona’s thoughts, tempting her with promises of power and transformation. But Leona’s defiance surged in her chest like a fire—she couldn’t, she wouldn’t give in.

Her smile remained gentle, almost maternal, until her hand snapped around Leona’s throat, lifting her effortlessly from the ground. Leona’s feet dangled, her body limp, helpless as if her very will had been drained away. Her eyes, compelled by some malevolent force, met Black Angel’s gaze.

Leona's thoughts screamed at her to fight, to move, but her body betrayed her. The shadows in the room writhed and slithered like living things, forming chains that coiled around her, binding her arms, legs, and torso. They constricted with a snake-like hiss, pressing into her skin, unyielding and cold.

“Comfortable?” Black Angel asked with a smirk, tightening her grip. “Good. Now that I have your undivided attention, let’s discuss your future.” She released her grip just enough to let Leona collapse onto her knees, dragging her into a forced posture of submission. A dark, shifting pedestal rose from the floor, cradling her neck and holding her head in place, forcing her to meet the villain’s eyes.

Leona strained, desperate to look away, but the cruel contraption held her fast. Black Angel loomed above her, wings unfurled, a dark queen reigning over her prisoner. With an almost tender smile, she extended the orb once more.

“Accept this gift,” she murmured, “and I will grant you power beyond your wildest dreams. All you wish for. In return, I ask only for a modest… presence within you. Through your hands, I will have my vengeance.” She laughed, a sound full of malice and triumph.

Tears blurred Leona’s vision as she struggled, her heart thundering with despair. Would she use me to kill Mistral? Would she make me hurt everyone I love? Panic clutched her chest like a vice. I can’t let her!

Black Angel’s expression darkened, the sweetness vanishing. “Still resisting? Why, Luv? I know what you truly desire. I know your fears, your pain… I. Know. You.” Her voice was like a dagger, driving into Leona’s soul with each word.

The shadows thickened, and a coffin of pure darkness materialized around Leona, swallowing her whole. The dim purple light from the braziers flickered and vanished, leaving only suffocating blackness. The walls of the coffin pressed in, cold and unyielding, choking the air from her lungs.

“Enjoy your eternity in this prison,” Black Angel whispered, her voice echoing cruelly in the void. “Perhaps, in time, you’ll understand my torment… and see things my way.”

Leona’s screams echoed within the coffin, but there was no one left to hear them—only the endless dark and the tightening walls of despair.