‘Where am I?’ Eloise woke up abruptly to find herself by a small pond, in the middle of a very large garden. The cool evening breeze blew wisps of her dark red hair into her face.
She looked down to find herself in a beautiful white gown. She slowly stood to her feet confused.
‘My wedding day?’ But that was two days from now. She quickly touched her stomach to find no stab wounds. She found no blood in her palms either. She swore they were filled with blood minutes ago
The scene of Cole stabbing her was so vivid now. 
She died......
Yes, she died. She would never mistake the fear she felt while, Cole pushed her off the balustrade. It was real. She knew what she felt. The sharp piercing pain from the cold iron knife, he stabbed her with. The satisfaction in his eyes while he stabbed her multiple times. The hate.
 Pure hate, she thought.
But why?
Why would the love of her life kill her? 
Most importantly, why wasn’t she dead yet? Yes, she was the Phoenix. She could rise from the ashes every time she died but not this time. She was sealed.
Yes, by that woman. She’d seen that tattoo on her hand before, but where? 
Oh, she remembered it all perfectly now. There was a witch circle, the seal of the condemned, a bright red moon and her blood.... 
 She fell from a three-story building, right to the bottom of the pool. She spent her last breath drowning because she couldn’t swim. 
What a terrible way to die, she thought. Or maybe not.... She was alive, wasn’t she?
Some terrible dream that was......

INTO THE FLAMES.

Old Stan walked into the Hornet Inn and everyone went silent. Everyone at the Inn was clad in black cloaks and black nose masks. 


“You lost, mate?” a man asked. He stepped forward with a narrowed look. 


“I am looking for your master,” he responded flatly. He spotted a few people holding small vials of a black potion. They passed it around and poured it into their drinks. 


“What are you looking at, huh? Did the Red faction send you? Are you a spy?” The man demanded. 


“Your master!” Stan insisted, loudly. 


“You better leave, mate, before this gets ugly,” he abruptly pulled a dagger from its shaft and gestured toward the door. 


Old Stan remained unfazed as he looked around the room. 


The man advanced toward him, aiming the dagger at him. Stan suddenly smacked him with his cane and kicked him across the room. He flew into the brick wall and fell onto the ground, unconscious. 


Stan clicked his tongue, tipped his black hat and position his black metal cane in front of him. 


Chapter 42(The Black Enclave)