The dream began the way all nightmares do—quietly, like the world holding its breath.
At first, it was only mist. A dim gray haze that stretched in every direction. Then came the sound—the low rumble of something massive dragging itself through the fog, followed by the metallic clash of steel on bone.
When the haze lifted, we were standing on a battlefield.
Blood soaked the ground so deep that it gleamed black beneath the light of a bruised sky. The air stank of iron and smoke, of things freshly slain and things that refused to die. Around me, dozens of slayers—men and women—fought tooth and claw against creatures that had no right to exist together.
Werewolves howled across the ridge. Vampires moved like ribbons of shadow, their eyes bright with hunger. Chimeras thrashed through the lines, tails tipped with venom. Ogres swung clubs that shattered armor and bone alike. Somewhere in the distance, a massive, scaled thing roared—a dinozard, its jaws red with gore.
There was no order, no command—just chaos, raw and endless.
My sword felt slick in my hands, the hilt trembling under the impact of every parried blow. I swung, again and again, through skin, sinew, scales. A vampire lunged from the smoke and I caught it through the chest, the blade bursting out its back. It hissed and dissolved into ash before I could breathe.
To my left, Chloe moved like a storm—quick, ruthless, every strike precise. Her daggers found throats and hearts, carving light from the dark. Landon was somewhere ahead, fighting three beasts at once, his sword a streak of gold in the red murk.
We weren't alone. Other slayers fought beside us, but their faces were blurs, their cries too brief to remember. They fell and rose and fell again, swallowed by the tide of monsters.
The world became a blur of claws and teeth.
I ducked beneath an ogre's swing, rolled through the mud, and came up slicing its wrist open. The thing bellowed and brought its club down again. The ground quaked. I barely leaped aside in time. My ears rang, my vision swam.
A flash—Landon's voice, hoarse with exhaustion. "Ava—move!"
I turned just as the dinozard crashed through the line, scattering men like straw. It was enormous, half scales, half rotted flesh. Its eyes burned sickly green.
We hit it together. Landon drew its attention while Chloe flanked, leaping onto its back and driving both blades deep into its neck. I ran forward, slicing across its exposed flank, my blade biting through decayed scales.
It screamed—a sound that split the clouds—and collapsed.
But more came. Always more.
A flood of shadows poured over the ridge: vampires, dozens of them, moving in unison. For every one we cut down, two more rose.
My body ached. My breath came ragged. Blood ran down my arm—mine, not theirs.
I caught sight of Landon again—his once-handsome face marred with streaks of ash and blood. His wheat-blonde hair was matted with crimson. Even in that ruin, something about him looked untouchably fierce. He shouted something I couldn't hear, swinging his sword in a wide arc that cleaved through three foes at once.
Then, out of nowhere, pain exploded across my chest.
A vampire's claws raked through my armor, slicing flesh. I stumbled back, gasping, eyes blurring. Chloe screamed my name. Another beast hit me from behind, sending me sprawling. I fell into the mud, my sword slipping from my grasp.
Shapes loomed—fangs, teeth, claws.
I reached for my weapon, but the world tilted. The last thing I saw was the sky—dark, endless, uncaring—as Landon's voice vanished into the roar.
Then the monsters came down on me.
And everything went black.
I woke with a gasp, my lungs clawing for air.
The cave was dim, sunlight just beginning to touch the mouth. My body was drenched in sweat, my heart hammering like I'd sprinted miles. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The scent of smoke, the warmth of the dying fire—it took a full minute before my breathing slowed.
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
I sat up, rubbing my face, and blinked toward the fire. Chloe was awake, sitting cross-legged near the flames. Or, more accurately—she was staring at Landon.
Like, really staring.
He was still asleep, stretched out shirtless beside the fire, one arm thrown lazily over his head. The faint morning light made his skin glow bronze-gold, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. Even I had to admit—he looked unfairly good like that.
Still.
"Chloe," I whispered.
She flinched, nearly falling over. "What?"
I arched a brow. "Really?"
She turned red. "I—I was just making sure he's breathing."
"Sure you were."
Her glare could've curdled milk. "You don't get it, Ava. He's—he's like… art that learned how to smirk."
I bit back a laugh. "Art that snores, apparently."
She frowned but didn't argue. A few seconds later, she sighed and stood, tugging my sleeve. "Come on. Let's get some air before I embarrass myself further."
We stepped outside the cave. The morning had sharpened to a crisp chill, dew glittering on the rocks. A faint mist hung over the valley below, soft and silver. We found a pair of flat stones near the mouth of a stream and sat there, the water whispering between us.
For a while, neither of us spoke. Then I said, "So… you're really obsessed with him, huh?"
Chloe groaned. "Oh, gods, not this again."
"You were ogling him like he was a sacred relic."
"Can you blame me?" she shot back. "Have you seen him? The man's carved like a statue of temptation. His face, his voice—his everything. He's like a god walking around pretending to be human."
I rolled my eyes. "You've never seen a god."
She smirked. "You haven't either."
"Exactly," I said. "So you don't know what they look like. For all we know, gods could be wrinkled old hermits with fish breath."
She snorted. "Blasphemy."
"Realism."
She laughed softly, then gave me a sideways glance. "Come on, Ava. Which girl isn't obsessed with him?"
"Me."
She blinked. "You're serious?"
"Completely."
Chloe narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky, you know. You've always been… different. Immune. Most of us fall for the pretty ones. You just fall for your job."
"Is that your polite way of asking if I'm into women?"
"Maybe."
I smiled faintly. "No. I don't think so. I like men. Sometimes. Depends on the day."
She arched a brow. "Depends on the day?"
"Yeah. Sometimes they make me feel… something. Sometimes they just make me tired."
Chloe burst out laughing. "So what turns you on then, Miss Selective?"
I looked at her, deadpan. "Slaying beasts."
She groaned. "You're impossible."
I grinned. "Honest."
She shook her head. "There's more to life than just killing monsters, Ava. We should enjoy it, too. Love, passion, something. Otherwise what's the point?"
"Maybe the point is to keep people alive," I said quietly. "To do the work others can't."
She sighed. "You've been like this since the Academy. All discipline and no fun."
I smiled. "Someone had to set an example."
That made her laugh again, softer this time. "You were the Academy's little storm cloud. Always studying, training, sparring. You probably slept with your sword beside you."
"I did," I said. "Still do."
Her words pulled me back, into memory.
The Academy of the Slayers' Guild was built on the cliffs above Brightfield—a sprawl of stone halls, training grounds, and echoing chambers where the air always smelled of steel and rain. That's where I first saw Landon.
The day he arrived, everything stopped.
Girls stopped sparring mid-duel. Instructors lost their train of thought. Even the masters who'd seen a hundred prodigies turned their heads. He was tall, sun-bronzed, with that same unshakable calm that made you think he knew every secret in the world. And those eyes—blue, not soft sky blue, but sharp and bright, like polished ice.
He didn't walk into the academy so much as arrive, the way storms did—unavoidable.
The stories spread instantly. That he'd ranked top of his class in the Southern Division. That he'd fought a lesser vampire unarmed and lived. That he'd kissed one of the instructors and got away with it.
The academy went insane.
Every girl I knew wanted his attention. Even some of the older mentors found excuses to linger near the training fields. And he? He moved through it all like it was a breeze—smiling, flirting, never staying long enough for anyone to catch him.
Whether he actually slept with all those admirers, I had no idea. I didn't want to.
Chloe, though? She was one of the faithful. Has been ever since.
And me—I was the anomaly. The one girl who didn't chase him, didn't sigh when he walked by. I had books to read, sparring drills to master, Systems to study. While everyone else dreamed about his eyes, I was memorizing combat sequences and researching how Vault resonance affected weapon storage.
I guess I've always been that way. The nerd with a sword.
My thoughts must've lingered too long because Chloe nudged me. "You're smiling," she said. "Thinking about him after all?"
I opened my mouth to deny it. Then a voice—smooth, unmistakable—cut through the morning.
"Thinking about me?"
We both jumped.
Landon stood at the edge of the clearing, sunlight pooling over his shoulders. His hair caught the light—wheat-gold, untamable. His skin, sun-warmed and dusted with faint freckles, looked like it belonged on a sculpture. His eyes—those absurdly blue eyes—were half-lidded with sleep, but still sharp enough to make Chloe visibly melt.
Even I had to look away for a second.
He grinned. "What time are we leaving?"
Chloe stammered something incoherent. I just said, "Now sounds good."
We packed quickly, leaving the cave as bare as we'd found it. The road stretched before us again—long, winding, lined with old oaks and glints of dew on every leaf. The sun climbed higher, burning the mist away.
We walked in companionable silence for hours. The forest hummed with quiet life: insects buzzing, birds darting between branches, the occasional rustle of small animals in the underbrush.
By midday, the air had turned warm, heavy with the scent of pine sap.
When Landon finally stopped, I was grateful. We'd reached a small clearing—a wide circle of grass surrounded by low stone outcroppings. Perfect for camp.
"This will do," he said.
Chloe nodded and reached into the air before her, drawing the tent straight from her vault—a compact bundle of cloth and steel rods that unfurled neatly onto the ground.
"Still jealous of that thing," I muttered.
"Then get one as good as mine," she said smugly.
I opened my own vault and pulled out my tent, setting it beside hers before kneeling to anchor it in place. Landon followed, his tent unfolding with the same efficient grace he brought to everything.
Within minutes, we had a miniature camp—three tents arranged in a small crescent, firepit between them. The clearing already felt like ours.
Landon straightened, brushing his hands together. "All right," he said, that familiar glint in his eye returning. "Who's craving fresh game meat?"
I perked up immediately. "Me."
"Same," Chloe said.
He grinned. "Then it's settled. We'll hunt before dusk."
I could feel the faint stir of anticipation—the kind that only came before a hunt. The forest around us whispered with unseen life, as if waiting.
Whatever lay ahead, I could almost taste it already.
Landon slung his bow over his shoulder, sunlight glinting off his hair. "Let's make dinner worth the walk."
And just like that, the three of us set off into the trees—ready for the hunt to come.