I woke as the wind howled around the woods, rattling my little cabin like some angry spirit demanding entry. The force of it told me this wasn't an ordinary wind—there was a storm brewing, one unlike any I had known. My eyes darted to the old clock on the wall; its hands pointed exactly at three.
Three o'clock. The hour I had risen every night for a fortnight now. The hour of my vigil.
I wrapped my shawl tighter and listened. The storm clawed at the trees, tearing through branches, shaking the very bones of the earth. Lightning flared, thunder rolled, and the rain came soon after, pounding the roof in a rhythm that chilled my blood. I brewed my tea with trembling hands, the bitter herbs filling the air with their sharp, earthy scent.
For three long hours the storm raged, fierce and unrelenting, and in its fury, I realized one thing; not once, had a cock crowed. Dawn had come silent of its herald, drowned only in storm and shadow.
This was it.
The omen.
Dawn without a cockcrow.
The day of Zal's doom.
The storm outside gnawed at the world like a beast, but I did not flinch. I laid the blackened bowl at the center of the circle I had carved into the cabin floor. The lines of salt and ash glistened with faint silver, catching the dim glow of my lantern. My hands trembled—not with fear, but with the weight of what was to come.
This was no ordinary dawn. This was the beginning of the end.
I drew in a long breath, tasting the smoke of my herbs still clinging to the air. My voice cracked at first as I began my chant but soon it gathered strength, carrying the fire of centuries through my bloodline. The words poured out, not from my memory, but from my soul:
"By the wind that tears, by the rain that binds,
By the flame that never dies,
I call you, sisters of my soul…
Ita, Imo, Eva…
Step through the veil, break through the dark,
Let your light find me."
"By the root of earth, by the crown of sky,
By the blood that sealed our vow,
Rise now from shadow, rise now from silence,
Answer my voice,
Stand with me at this hour."
As I chanted, the air around me thickened until every breath felt like drawing water into my lungs. Sparks of pale blue light bled into the circle, swirling like fireflies. My heartbeat quickened and I knew they were close.
"Sisters," I whispered into the storm, "hear me. The dawn without cockcrows has come. Zal's hour is here. Come and stand with me."
And one by one, their lights began to take shape.
I closed my eyes and pressed my palms against the cold stone altar. The chant still hummed low in my throat, vibrating through marrow and blood. The veil between waking and dream thinned, and I slipped into the place where human minds wandered unguarded.
There he was. Nakoa. My faithful one. His dream carried him through a meadow, chasing sunlight like a boy who had never known sorrow. But I stepped into it, bending the fabric of his sleep until he saw me.
"Grand Witch," he breathed, bowing even in dream. His hand went to his chest, over the mark of loyalty he had carved for me years ago. "You have come."
"Nakoa," I whispered, though my voice shook the meadow like thunder. "The hour we dreaded is upon us. Zal's shadow has thickened. Elis must be moved at once, or he will be lost forever."
His dream wavered, bright colors dripping away until only my face held. His eyes widened, filled with both terror and reverence.
"Command me," he said. "I swore my life to you, and to you only I will obey."
"You must bring two of your kindred—diviners strong enough to break through the snares Zal has sown in the palace walls. Come before the sun's second rise. If you delay, Elis will not see another dawn."
"I will not fail you," he vowed. "Destiny chained me to your side long before I could speak its name. Today, I will make good that vow."
I reached out, brushing his cheek, though my hand was made of smoke in his dream. "Good. Wake, Nakoa. Wake, and come."
The dream collapsed, and my chamber flooded back into view. I opened my eyes to see the sacred light flaring as Ita, Imo, and Eva stepped forth from the ether, answering my earlier summons. Their forms shimmered, their eyes already heavy with what they knew awaited.
And even before their words of greeting, I felt it—Nakoa was already stirring from sleep, already gathering his chosen two. He would come.
By dawn's full weight, the storm had ceased as the cabin door groaned open. Nakoa entered first, his frame shadowed by the morning dim light, and behind him came two other diviners, their faces pale and eyes gleaming with a mixture of terror and devotion.
They dropped to one knee, every gesture steeped in worship.
"My Lady," Nakoa said, his voice trembling but resolute. "We are here. Command us."
I stood before them, my three soul-sisters flanking me, their power thrumming like a living wall. A cool wind clawed at the sky outside, yet here, within these walls, destiny itself had gathered.
And so the first step began.