Point to note - my story is set in a 'universe' where all the dragons and the wild powers were supposedly *hint hint* killed in the 'epic apocalypse' our dear Ms. Smith has mentioned but not concluded. This is also my 3rd attempt at this darn fanfic thing, so bare with me and please make it worth my while by commenting/reviewing. Enjoy!

Prologue

It had been the usual grey, dreary London night. The clouds were grey, the air was grey, the buildings were grey; even the people were grey. There had been nothing special about the 28th of November. That is, until Amelia had gone to bed that night.

She was falling down a hole, black and endless; the walls were shiny with slime, bones of dead creatures sticking out. The sound of air rushing by was deafening but it didn't drown out the violent beating of her heart. She tried to scream but nothing would come out. Her limbs flailed around, struggling against the force of gravity that took away her breath. She was falling at a constant speed, neither slowing down nor speeding up. She just kept falling, stationary yet not stationary.

Then, out of the obscurity, came a rush of red.

Her lungs and stomach burnt as if on fire when the blood forced its way down her throat. The revolting metallic taste coated her tongue like felt. She scrubbed her skin frantically until she was no longer sure whose blood was etched into the lines in her hands.

Suddenly, Amelia stopped moving, suspended in air, surrounded by dark clouds that disappeared when she tried to touch them. If she stretched her arms just a little she could almost touch the moon. Beneath her were miles and miles of fields and mountains.

It wasn't cold. Or if it was, Amelia most certainly didn't feel it. She felt at peace here, whereverhere was. There was no complex network of buildings or roads or people to work your way around; there was only the sky, the moon and stretches of lovely greenery. Her mind was clear, quiet, and tranquil. She could breathe slowly; she could wrap her arms around herself, close her eyes and feel her heart beat restfully, knowing that she was safe. She could open her eyes and appreciate the humble beauty of nature. The mountains were not ominous or daunting, they were giants who would protect the delicate blades of grass that surrounded it; the trees at the base of the mountains were not ghosts that scratched windows in the dead of night with their claw-like branches, they were there so you could build tree houses to hide in, away from the harsh glares of the world. It was all pretty and innocent and so, so simple.

But this was a dream and Amelia, being who she was, could not have a fantasy even in a world that was supposed to be just that. There was always a story that needed to be shown, always a future that needed to be foretold. That was the lifelong curse of a seer; dreams were not an outlet for her mind.Her dreams were the future and so, when a scream shattered the stillness of the night, a dreadful fear began to grow in her. Someone's future was about to drop brutally into her hands.

The clouds parted and lightening flashed. She didn't feel any of it, only saw the blinding pale blue electricity strike a field, leaving behind in its wake a vast crater the size of a small town. A young woman ran towards the crater, her long, auburn mane flowing behind her. She looked up; the expression on her face broke Amelia's heart. She could do nothing of course; she was condemned to watch as a phantom, let the dreams show her the future, let the future speak for itself.

There was so much pain etched into her delicate features, so much anguish in the glistening tears that fell from almond eyes the colour of emeralds. She wanted to reach out and hold this stranger's hands, tell her that everything would be okay.

"But it won't, Amelia."

She gasped. The people in her dreams never knew her. Ever. This new revelation terrified her. The woman didn't say anything more, simply gazed at Amelia with eyes that suddenly turned to stone. She couldn't help but flinch.

"You could have stopped this." Her breath caught in her throat. There was cold venom in the woman's soft, smooth voice, even more so than what was evident in her jewel coloured eyes. She didn't like this, she didn't like this one bit. Amelia had been, her whole life, the perfect daughter, the perfect friend, the perfect girlfriend. She was kind, polite, hated conflicts and fights. She tried to get along with everyone, even those she didn't particularly like because what was the point in being mean? Did it really achieve anything? And yet here she was, in a dream that was anything but, being looked at with more hate than she had ever seen.

"You don't even know what you've done, do you?" Amelia shook her head, hating herself for her emotional weakness; her visions were never direct, there was almost something that was left for her to interpret. Shame filled her when she felt the warm wetness of tears rolling down her cheeks. Of all the ways to respond… She opened her mouth to apologise for whatever she was supposed to have done but the woman pressed a finger to her lips and dropped her eyes to her hands. Amelia followed suit, watching the woman's slender hands with so much concentration, even her dream self's head hurt.

There was a great, booming sound as lightening shot up to the clouds. For a second, she was stunned, and blinded, having no idea what had taken place. Then, when the whiteness subsided from her vision, and she looked back down, she saw the woman's hands crackling with electricity, fine threads of it circling her long fingers, pulsating with bursts of energy. The woman raised her head to meet Amelia's golden eyes; she was sad once again.

"Don't let this happen to me," she pleaded with a trembling voice, her small shoulders shaking as she cried anew. Mortified, she saw angry red burns on the woman's hands, dark olive skin burnt away. "Please." That last whimper of desperation faded into the thunderous sound of lightning. She would help, Amelia would do whatever it took to make things right with her, she would –

And then it was over; just like that, Amelia Marseaux was awake, in bed, eyes wide open, heart beating fast, breathing fast and shallow. She turned to look at the alarm clock – 5:30 AM flashed in neon red. Closing her eyes again, she slowed down her breath and shot up when she realised something.

Amelia couldn't remember her face, the woman in her vision. She shot out of bed as if on fire and ran into the table. Cursing and rubbing her knee, she went to the large, oak wardrobe and peered into the mirror, squinting as she tried to make out her reflection. It was still dark outside.

"Why can't I remember?" she whispered to herself. Even in the darkness, the dark circles under her eyes were clear. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, almost glowing, like a cat's. "I need to remember her." She kept repeating those words as if it would make them true but she knew, of course she knew, that it wouldn't happen. There was a reason for why she could not remember, there was a reason for everything. Amelia just had to figure out why in time to save her.

Simple really. It was always that simple.