The night in Coven Groves was a canvas of deep, impenetrable black. Aurora Baker, disoriented and lost, stumbled through a deserted alley, the suffocating stench of death clinging to the air. The thin crescent moon, her only guide, flickered and died, plunging her into absolute darkness. Panic clawed at her throat as an icy, black liquid began to rise, slowly consuming her, mimicking the drowning nightmare that plagued her sleep.

Meanwhile, miles away, Art Hennessy ran through his own terrifying dreamscape. The pavement beneath his feet was an oily, thrashing mass, and a voice in his head urged him to save 'her'. He tried to swim through the viscous water, despite his fear, his magic useless in the dream. As he sank, a shadowy man with burning golden eyes offered a chilling choice: 'Do you want my help, little boy?' Art refused, and woke, drenched in sweat, the blue-green eyes of the girl from his dream burned into his memory.

Unbeknownst to them, Azakeal, a guardian angel, watched from afar, frowning at his 'Book of Guardianship'. The intensified nightmares were a grim premonition. He knew what was coming, a disaster too big for him. "You have to do something to help her, right?" Castiel, his friend, urged, but Azakeal, weary of ancient promises, only sighed. It was going to be a long night, for them all.