Warlock Ch 18. You Only Bring Calamity…
"You have always been more than that," the voice replied, a hint of something ancient in its tone. "And soon, you will remember."
Damian's chest tightened, the pressure building as if the air itself was squeezing him. "Remember what? What am I supposed to remember?"
"Chaos. War. Calamity," the voice answered, its tone shifting, darker now. "It has all happened before, and it will happen again. You are both the cause and the solution. The past cannot be changed, but the future..."
Before Damian could ask another question, the artifact pulsed violently, and a sharp pain shot through his chest. He gasped, clutching his heart as the world around him twisted, spinning out of control.
Suddenly, everything around him shifted. The empty space disappeared, replaced by a scene of chaos and destruction. Damian found himself hovering above a battlefield, the sky dark and swirling with clouds. Below him, war raged—an all-out battle between creatures he had only ever heard about in stories.
Witches, warlocks, vampires, werewolves, dragons, sirens, demons, fae—all of them clashed in a brutal fight, their powers lighting up the sky with violent bursts of magic and fire. The ground was littered with bodies, the air thick with the smell of blood and ash. Damian's heart pounded as he watched the carnage unfold, his chest tight with fear and confusion.
"What... what is this?" Damian whispered, his voice shaking.
"This is the world you will inherit," the voice of the artifact echoed in his mind. "The war you cannot escape. It happened before and will happen again."
Damian's breath quickened, panic rising in his chest. He didn't understand. Why was he seeing this? What did any of it have to do with him? He tried to move, to do something, but his body felt frozen, locked in place as the battle raged on below him.
And then he saw her.
In the middle of the battlefield, a figure stood out amidst the chaos. A woman, cloaked in a deep hood, her robe adorned with intricate symbols that glowed faintly in the darkness. She was like a saint. Despite the violence surrounding her, she moved with a calm, deliberate grace, like she was part of the storm and yet separate from it.
Damian's eyes locked onto her as she raised her head, her face partially obscured by the hood. But even from a distance, he could see the tears streaming down her face, glistening in the battlefield.
"You..." she whispered, her voice soft but carrying across the chaos, as if she was speaking directly to him. "You should never have been born."
Damian's heart lurched. Her words cut through him like a blade, cold and unforgiving.
"You only bring calamity," she continued, her voice breaking. "Everything you touch... everything you are... will destroy this world."
Her words echoed in his mind, filling him with a sense of dread so deep it made his chest tighten painfully. Damian tried to speak, to defend himself, but the words wouldn't come. He didn't understand. Why was she saying this? Why did she look at him like he was the cause of all this destruction?
Before he could make sense of it, the woman's expression hardened. She raised her hand, magic swirling around her in a violent storm, and without warning, she lunged at him.
Damian's heart slammed in his chest as she rushed toward him, her magic crackling through the air. Everything around him blurred, the battlefield disappearing in a swirl of light and sound.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
Damian bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving, his body drenched in sweat. His heart pounded in his ears, the remnants of the dream still clinging to him. He could feel the woman's words pressing down on him, her voice echoing in his mind.
"You should never have been born."
The room was still, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, but Damian couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.
It was just a dream, he told himself. Just a dream. But deep down, he knew better. There was something more to it—something real. The voice, the artifact, the woman... it all felt too vivid, too powerful to be just a product of his imagination.
He glanced around the room, half-expecting Evelyn was there. But it was just him.
Damian let out a long breath, trying to steady himself. Whatever that dream had been, it wasn't going to leave him easily. It was like the artifact had given him a glimpse into something—something dark, something dangerous. And he had a feeling it wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
He pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, his legs still shaky. He needed to talk to Evelyn, to figure out what the hell was happening to him. But even as he thought about it, the memory of the woman's voice echoed in his mind.
"You only bring calamity."
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
He tried to shake it off, running his hand through his hair. He needed to clear his head. First stop—the bathroom. He hadn't even bothered to freshen up last night after everything that had happened. He'd crashed, exhausted, barely conscious. Now, as he looked at himself in the mirror, the disheveled, tired face staring back at him felt like a stranger.
He splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would snap him out of the fog, but the chill only did so much. The confusion, the tension, it was all still there.
After a few minutes, Damian dried his face and headed back to the bedroom, feeling a little more awake but no less unsettled. That's when he noticed it—the bedsheet on the other side of the bed, crumpled.
He stared at it for a second, his mind slowly piecing together the meaning. 'Evelyn must've slept here with me.' He hadn't even realized. After the night they'd had, everything had blurred together. She must have gotten up before him—early.
He made his way downstairs. The house was eerily quiet, only the soft creak of the floorboards beneath his feet breaking the silence. He expected to find Evelyn in the kitchen or maybe the living room, but she wasn't there. He checked the front door—it was locked.
"Evelyn?" he called out, his voice echoing in the stillness. Nothing.