Every night it was the same dream. And Misty Day was not fool enough to believe her dreams were only dreams. Sometimes, on nights like this when the moon was full, Misty liked to go for walks through the city alone. It helped her to think. And it stopped her feeling like the walls of the Academy were closing in on her. Many young witches had come to the school, her home, to learn the ways of witchcraft. They had brought with them so much noise and energy. All that magical power reverberating off the walls, it was just too much sometimes.

Tonight Misty decided she would take a long walk through New Orleans and clear her head. She needed to figure out what her dream could mean. At home, her best friend, her lover and her Supreme, Cordelia, was sound asleep in their grand old four poster bed. Part of her wanted to turn back and crawl into bed beside her warm body, but she knew she had to figure this dream out. It had been gnawing at her insides all day long.

Misty walked down streets filled with traffic and people. It was Friday night and the city was buzzing with life. She walked past a bar. A neon sign over the door read "Live Jazz". Its light shone on her mess of blonde curls, turning them blue and red. The smell of bourbon and the sound of jazz music filled the air. A rowdy group of men emerged from the bar and pushed past her, laughing and talking loudly. She did not pay them any mind. She knew she had enough magic burning inside her to instantly kill all of them. She walked on in her favourite boots, past hot dog vendors and groups of friends laughing and talking. American flags hung from buildings and waved listlessly in the light of old fashioned street lamps. Cars cruised past.

Misty had no particular destination in mind. But she was not surprised when she looked up from the pavement and saw the entrance to a cemetery. She always seemed to end up here. Tombs stood in endless rows, their white bricks shining in the ethereal moonlight. Misty walked towards them.

In this cemetery, surrounded by the remains of the dead, she had once lost her own life. She would never forget being underground, buried alive in that awful coffin. Alone in the dark with only the sound of her own voice for company, she had begun to sing. The songs of Stevie Nicks had stopped her from losing her mind. And when her throat had been so torn and bloody that she could no longer sing them, she had clung tight to the belief that Cordelia would find her. Cordelia was so very powerful. And she would not give up on her. She would not forget her. Even as she drew her last breath, it had given her comfort to know that she was loved by someone that much.

Cordelia had found her eventually, but by then it had been too late.

She didn't remember anything from that in between time, when her soul had drifted away from her body. She only remembered waking up scared and confused and then seeing Cordelia's face and knowing she was loved. She remembered how grateful she had been, how happy she had felt to see Cordelia in that moment. As she walked among the crypts she felt a pain in her chest and ached to be with her lover. She pulled her shawl tighter around her body and shivered, looking over her shoulder. But she did not leave. She had come out here tonight for a reason, and she was going to stay here until she figured things out.

Stone crypts stood solemn and silent on either side as she walked down the long straight path between them. She only had moonlight to guide her and her path disappeared into the dark distance ahead. Stone angels gazed down upon her, attending to their silent vigil. Gravel crunched underfoot.

Misty found the tomb where she had once been trapped. She stopped and stared at it for a moment, then sat down in front of it. The ground was cold and hard. Gravel scratched the back of her legs. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the cold stone of the tomb wall. She tried to think. Despite the cold air and the hard ground, despite her troubled mind, Misty soon fell asleep.

Misty was walking down a dark hallway. The walls were made of dark, grim brick. The hall had the faint odour of damp and rot. It was lined with doors made of metal. Each had a small square hole at eye height for viewing the room beyond. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her head hurt. Her heart thumped in her chest. She was looking for someone. She had something very important to tell them.

She finally arrived at her destination. Although this door looked the same as the others, she knew it was the right one. The person she was looking for was inside this room. Misty could feel something else beyond the doorway, something malignant and vile, something cruel and darkly pulsing. She did not want to open that door. She willed herself not to open it. But there was nothing she could do, she was not in control.

She watched her own hand helplessly as it pushed the door open. She walked inside. The air smelt of sick and sweat. There was a metal bed in the middle of the room. A man was tied to it with leather straps. He strained against them, the veins in his neck and head bulged. His skin was unnaturally white. Misty thought he looked like a living corpse. His eyes were those of a wild animal caught in a trap. They were bloodshot and bulging and they rolled to and fro in his head. Then they landed on Misty. They stared straight into her soul.

"No!" Misty screamed, but her lips did not make a sound.

A crowd of people were gathered around the bed. She wanted to ask them to help her. She wanted to tell them to escape this room. But she could not speak. She could not run. She was staring into the face of evil and evil was staring back.

She screamed.

Misty's eyes flew open. Her scream was given full voice. She saw Cordelia. Her face was full of concern. The early morning sun had turned her hair the most beautiful shade of golden blonde. She felt Cordelia's hands grasping her arms. That stopped her screaming. She began to breathe heavily, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were wide and her face was drained of colour. She was covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Sweetheart!" Cordelia said, "Sweetheart, it was just a dream."

Cordelia's eyes were filled with worry. Misty threw her arms around Cordelia and Cordelia hugged her close. She stroked Misty's wild hair.

"It's okay," Cordelia said, "Everything will be all right."

Misty held Cordelia tight. How could she begin to tell her the truth? How could she explain? Nothing was all right. Something was very, very wrong.