A dark forest. A full moon overhead. Red lupine eyes...
Everything suddenly dissolves-first into blackness, then into blinding whiteness.
Then... images begin to form, blurry at first.
They gradually resolve, and Edward finds himself seated once again on that log, before the bonfire.
Looking around, everything is exactly as he remembers: a cloudless sky speckled with glimmering stars, the chirps and howls of nocturnal creatures in the distance, the solitary hut, the familiar stretch of land.
In general, everything is unchanged.
Even the events begin to unfold as they had before-but now in fast-forward, like a movie on high speed: the hut is dark, then suddenly teeming with women moving about inside. A woman's scream pierces the air. Their shadows flicker behind a tacky-looking garment strung across the entrance. They speak in an alien tongue. The woman screams again-then, abruptly, the sound of a crying baby replaces it. A birth.
Then silence. The hut goes still and dark once more.
As expected, the man appears again, seated opposite Edward by the fire. He looks exactly the same-same staff, same posture, same air of eerie calm.
Just like last time, Edward watches him reach for the gourd, scoop out the powder, and toss it into the flame. By now, the fast-forwarded pace has slowed, and everything plays out in real time.
The flames burst into a wild, crackling blaze.
Edward tries to move-but he can't. No matter how hard he tries, he just... can't. His limbs are frozen in place.
The man circles the fire, chanting in a deep, rhythmic cadence.
Edward's eyes dart toward the wall of the hut-and he sees it. The sigil. The same one from Beatrice's grimoire. His chest tightens in panic. He tries to stand again, tries to scream-but his mouth won't open.
"Ohhh, this isn't good. This can't be good at all," he says to himself, trapped inside his own mind.
Just then, the man stops.
Now standing directly across the fire from Edward, his eyes lock straight ahead. His large, sinewy hand grips the staff tightly. The man's physique, Edward realizes now, is built-strong and taut.
Edward narrows his eyes at him.
And then the man speaks. His voice is cold and thunderous as he utters a single word:
"Tyamavuka."
Suddenly, his eyes roll back and glow with an intense, glaring blue light.
Without warning, he drops into a combat stance-his body shifting with purpose-and raises the staff. Its carved rune symbols, which Edward hadn't noticed before, begin to glow blue, lighting up one by one in a helix pattern.
Edward wants to look behind him, to see what the man is targeting-but he can't. His body is still locked in place. All he can do is stare at the glowing staff, waiting to see what will happen next.
But then-everything disappears.
---
Edward blinked slowly, opening his eyes to see the familiar ceiling of his room above him.
He blinked again. Then rubbed his eyes hard and blinked once more.
Sitting up straight in bed, he looked around frantically-not even sure what he was looking for. Just looking. Searching.
"No, no, no, no. Nooo, please," he muttered, clutching his head. "What was that? What was any of that?... I have to see it again. I need to make sense of it. I have to."
He wasted no time. Without hesitation, he fell back on the plush mattress, pulled the duvet over his body, and forced his eyes shut. He stayed like that for a while.
Nothing.
Sleep refused to come.
With frustration, he sat up again, his face painted with disappointment. He stared at the moving blur of cloud shadows cast across the floor and wall by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. The night was quiet, save for the faint, steady chorus of crickets.
After a moment, he began to relax. He kicked off the blankets and sat on the edge of his bed, lost in thought.
Then-an idea.
He rushed to the closet, retrieved the grimoire from its hiding spot, and sat at his desk.
Switching on the lamp, Edward opened the book and began flipping through the pages. He scanned each one, desperate to find something that could help him understand the dream, or reconnect with it. But page after page failed him. Most of it was unreadable. Ancient text. Symbols. Images he couldn't understand.
Still, he pressed on. He had to try.
He paused, brows furrowed. The only thing from the dream he recognized was the sigil on the hut's wall-the same one Anita had called the symbol of the Kilinge Circle, the ancient witch clan Beatrice belonged to. That same sigil-the one that felt... familiar, in an unsettling way.
Everything else in the dream was confusing. Foreign. Unrelatable.
Edward let out a frustrated breath and closed the grimoire.
But just as he did, something caught his eye.
Wait.
He flipped back. Frantically now. Searching.
There.
He leaned closer. "The heavens are truly gracious," he whispered in awe.
On the page before him was a spell-translated into English.
Encouraged, he flipped through more pages. And to his amazement, he found even more spells translated-some in Swahili, others in Luo. Mostly Swahili and Luo, actually. But still-he understood all three languages.
"Jackpot!" he said with a grin. "Thanks to the heavens... and thanks to Jenevive. Anita, your mom is awesome."
He knew it had to be her who'd translated the spells. The presence of Luo made it all the more certain.
Re-centering himself, Edward readied to try a spell. He chose a simple one-one that required only a chant.
He took a breath, steadied his nerves, and began the incantation.
As he chanted, his hands began to glow.
--------
Edward suddenly heard Stay by The Kid LAROI and Justin Bieber begin to play.
It was his phone ringing.
He pulled it out of his pocket and set it to his ear.
"We have been ringing the doorbell for the past five—"
"Circle to the backyard," Edward cut in bluntly. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Anita yap or whine.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he kept staring blankly at the forest ahead.
A few moments later, Anita rounded the corner into the backyard. Spotting him, she stomped furiously toward him and shoved his bag into his chest.
Edward staggered slightly but regained his balance. Anita didn't seem to care. In her mind, they were even now—his cold phone tone balanced against her arrogance.
Mdachi stood off to the side, silent. He'd already had enough of Anita for one day—especially after she'd spent all afternoon reminding him that he'd called her Ann the previous day.
Recovering from the shove, Edward slung the bag over one shoulder and gave Anita an indifferent glance. With a sigh, he tore his gaze away and turned to Mdachi.
Mdachi shrugged and briefly pouted his lower lip the moment Edward looked at him.
"Well, aren't you going to ask us how school was today?" Anita's tone was suddenly sweet, gentle, and laced with a mysterious hint of mischief.
Edward studied her for a moment, trying to figure out her angle. But the look she gave him after his "delay" made him give in instantly.
"How was school today?" he asked.
Anita smiled, clearly pleased. "It was fine. Better than I expected."
"So what's got you all sugar and honey then?" Edward asked with a suspicious grimace.
"Well, guess what?"
Edward rolled his eyes and groaned. "What?"
"That's not guessing," Anita reprimanded.
Edward turned to Mdachi for help, but before he could speak, Anita shot him a glare. Mdachi shut his mouth and looked away.
Edward sighed again. He was tired and didn't have the energy for this. "Anita… just tell me, okay? I wasn't at school today. A lot happens there, so guessing what you're thinking is impossible."
"Okay—only because you said please." Anita finally relented. Edward breathed out in relief.
"So, you see…" She dragged it out, fully aware she was killing him with suspense. "We might be in the clear after all."
She still wasn't being specific, and Edward's mind instantly started working. In the clear about what?
"Madam Beatrice—she doesn't suspect anything at all."
Edward had already guessed that was where she was going—he remembered Mdachi telling him earlier.
"You don't look surprised," Anita noted.
Edward was about to explain, but Mdachi's pleading stare stopped him. The message was clear: Anita had told him not to share this, and he'd done it anyway. Both boys knew she'd blow up if she found out, so Edward improvised.
"Yeah, sorry… I didn't quite get what you said."
Anita looked a little annoyed but brushed it off. "I said," she repeated firmly, "that Madam Beatrice doesn't suspect a thing."
Edward played along. He knew every detail already, thanks to Mdachi. "…Really? That's so… wonderful." His delivery was so dry it nearly cracked, and his lack of enthusiasm made it worse.
Anita wasn't stupid. She turned to give Mdachi a plain, pointed look, then gave Edward the same one.
"I know, I know—you're not stupid, and you weren't born yesterday," Edward said, reading her thoughts.
She nodded, crossing her arms expectantly.
"Mdachi already told me," Edward admitted, "that Madam Beatrice checked in for your English teacher and wasn't suspicious of you—either during class or when you went to her later for 'help' in studies… though you were just testing her."
"Yep. He filled you in nicely," Anita said. "Thinking about it, it seems my mother overestimated her—saying she could be smarter. But… the lady didn't even seem to have a clue that someone had gone through her office."
Mdachi slapped his forehead. "Anita, I told you—you're underestimating her. Do you really think she's so short-witted she'd show her hand? Of course not. If I were her, I'd act the same way. What you did was way more dangerous than us sneaking into her office yesterday."
"Oh yeah? How's that?" Anita shot back.
"Because you might have just lit up her suspicion toward you—and, by extension, all of us. If she's really the witch who erased Edward's memories, don't you think knowing we're onto her would put us in greater danger? Especially when we don't even know her connection with the werewolf who killed Hallington?"
"I know, but…" Anita's words faded as Edward's thoughts drifted.
The mention of Beatrice's possible guilt—and Hallington—triggered a memory. He recalled rummaging through his mother's work documents, searching for one file in particular: the details of Hallington's house's new owner. When he found it, his gut proved right—Beatrice was listed as the buyer.
It hadn't shocked him. It only cemented his belief that she was the witch involved in Hallington's death and the erasure of his memories. Though the picture wasn't complete, he'd decided: Ask questions later, act first.
"Right, Edward? Wasn't that a bigger risk overall?" Mdachi's voice pulled him back.
He blinked, nodded once—then again, more firmly after catching the gist of the question. "Yeah, you're right, Mdachi." He looked at Anita. "That was dangerous, baby girl… but we appreciate your risky efforts."
Her forming frown softened into a smile, and she glanced at Mdachi triumphantly.
Mdachi rolled his eyes, then shot Edward a Really? look.
After a moment's thought, a mischievous smirk spread across Mdachi's face. "Oh, and I forgot to tell you something, Edu."
Edward, sensing the setup, stopped in his tracks to share his own find later. "Shoot."
Anita narrowed her eyes—she could already see where this was going.
"Someone was looking for you at school today," Mdachi said.
Anita froze. Oh, he was definitely going there. Was it necessary to tell Edward? Apparently, yes.
"Huh? Really?" Edward sounded genuinely surprised. "Who?"
"Edric." Mdachi put mocking emphasis on the name. He didn't like the guy, but making Anita squirm was too tempting.
Anita's heart skipped but she quickly masked it.
Edward raised a brow. "Really? How come?"