24 hours earlier.

Melinda hated coven meetings. She was, in essence, a half-caste, even among witches. She had been gifted with the abilities of the dead – the Bone Queen, they called her.

She hadn't chosen her class of magic; it was the universe’s way of delivering a cosmic middle finger. She was one of the most powerful witches in the coven, but since her magic primarily focused on necromancy and blood magic, she was ostracized, ignored.

Sometimes, she questioned why she even bothered attending these gatherings. She remembered how sweet her life had been before the magic. She was a sweet, normal girl from Westbridge Camp. Her father was a postman, and her mother was a secretary at a newspaper firm. She was an only child, her days filled with simple joys, playing with her beloved cat, Tommy.

She remembered turning thirteen, and that’s when her nightmares began. First, she started seeing things that weren't there: ghosts, a man in her closet who only spoke German. Then it escalated – waking up in graveyards, birds dying on her windowsill, an unnatural attraction to the dead. And then they came.

The coven.

With their colorful dresses and pointy hats, they whisked her away from her parents, telling her she had a "gift," that they would teach her to control it. She quickly became the best in her class, graduating top of her class at the prestigious Young Witches and Wizards Academy.

She could command an undead army. She was already able to create a Mundus Fictus—a fabricated reality—by the time she was nineteen. Yet, she felt empty, a void within her that craved something more.

She knew one thing for certain: more power, especially power as dark as hers, meant she would never be anyone’s favorite witch. But she didn’t care. She embraced the darkness, wearing darker clothes, using her abilities more openly, until they came. The hunters. She killed them all, feeding them to her hogs – creatures of the dead night, her loyal familiars. She was banished, forced to attend these compulsory meetings as a way of keeping her under surveillance.

Everyone looked at her with either contempt or fear, until she met Maggie. A cheerful girl whose class of magic was light magic. Maggie didn't fear or despise Melinda; instead, she wanted to be her friend.

Maggie joked around a lot and was always scorned at the meetings, and today was no different. She was late, as usual, and Melinda had gone to the trouble of reserving her a seat, although she knew it was a futile gesture. No one would ever sit beside her if it wasn't Maggie.

Her face lit up as she spotted Maggie attempting to sneak into the hall. Maggie wore a simple yet charming white gown that stopped just above her knees, cinched at the waist with a brown corset that accentuated her slender frame. Her blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, framing her slim face and highlighting her striking gray eyes.

Maggie’s tall and willowy figure made stealth nearly impossible, a fact compounded by her natural clumsiness. Each step she took seemed to echo louder than intended, drawing attention despite her best efforts. As usual, her attempt at subtlety ended in failure, and she was quickly met with sharp scolding from those around her.

The meeting ended shortly after, with the witches complaining about the growing number of hunters, some of whom were actively targeting innocent witches for no apparent reason. They wanted the IWWL—International Witches and Wizards Law—amended as soon as possible. They knew it could be done, but they needed to release some kind of…energy, some kind of… stream.

Melinda descended the stairs with Maggie, walking towards her car. She glanced at the “normals”—regular humans—walking along the road. She sometimes wondered how the normals perceived them. The normals had a low-frequency brainwave, making it very difficult for them to detect any sense of magic. Most of the time, their brains simply fabricated explanations for anything they saw that they couldn't categorize as "normal."

Maybe they saw the witches trooping out of the hall like members of a book club, or a group of housewives gathering to share family secrets. Melinda hoped for the former.

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“Have you heard?” Maggie asked, breaking the silence.

“Heard what?” Melinda replied, her thoughts drifting.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” Maggie said casually. “Just some weird frequency buzzing out of Riverdale for a while now.”

“A weird frequency?” Melinda asked, intrigued.

“Yes,” Maggie confirmed. “Now, stop repeating everything I’m saying!” she playfully chided.

“What kind of frequency?” Melinda persisted.

“You know, like the ‘lost key’ kind of frequency?” Maggie explained.

“You mean stolen?” Melinda corrected.

“Not stolen, lost!” Maggie emphasized. “Remember, the higher-ups said it wasn’t stolen, just… taken without being returned.”

“Isn’t that the definition of stealing?” Melinda muttered.

“Well, I don’t know much,” Maggie admitted. “I simply overheard my mom talking about it with her friends a couple of nights ago.”

“Where did you say this frequency was coming from again?” Melinda asked.

“Riverdale,” Maggie replied. “And oh, promise me you won’t tell anyone, especially Betti. You know how much of a running mouth she has.”

“Yeah, sure,” Melinda said. “I’ll see you around then?”

“Of course! I’ll call you. Chao!” Maggie called out, waving as she hopped into the back seat of a waiting car.

Melinda watched the car speed away, her thoughts turning to Riverdale. “Hmm, Riverdale, right?” she mused. “I should check it out.”

**************************************

Three words: zombies, car chase, and an angry goth girl.

They sped down the road, the roar of the engine barely masking the cacophony of groans and rattling bones behind them. The horde of undead was in relentless pursuit, their forms twisted and horrifying. These were not the shambling creatures of movies—they were far more grotesque. Their rotting flesh hung in ragged strips, exposing sinew and bone beneath. Some were missing entire sections of their bodies.

Yet, despite their decayed appearances, they moved with unnerving speed, far faster than their rotting bodies should have allowed. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly, driven by an unnatural hunger that propelled them forward in a frenzied chase. Each step brought the pursuers closer, their skeletal feet pounding the earth with a nightmarish rhythm.

They bared their rotten teeth and flashed their red eyes at them as Sawyer hugged Bonny tightly. Bonny swerved to avoid a zombie that seemed to be wearing what was left of a business suit.

“Fuck, I don’t get paid enough for this,” Bonny yelled, taking another sharp turn.

“You got her angry,” Sawyer replied, his voice strained.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome for saving your ass,” Bonny retorted.

“You cut off her hand, man,” Sawyer pointed out. “Even by my standards, that’s messed up.”

“Maybe you should tell her that,” Bonny suggested, taking out his shotgun and blasting one of the undead that had appeared on the wall.

Sawyer looked back to see Melinda on one of her hogs. There were now three of the creatures. Her hand was missing, and she held her wand in the other, trying to aim it at them.

“Where are we?” Sawyer asked.

“Mundus Fictus,” Bonny replied.

“A false world?” Sawyer asked. “She mentioned that before.”

“Yes,” Bonny explained. “It’s an ability only people with high magic abilities possess. They can create a subspace where they act as the instigator.”

“Instigator?” Sawyer asked.

“Yes, like the principal of the world,” Bonny clarified. “They set the rules, and everyone plays by them.”

“What about everyone else?” Sawyer asked. “They don’t seem to notice us.”

“Normals have a very weak magical frequency, so they’re usually rejected from the Mundus Fictus,” Bonny explained. “That’s why I’m wondering why you’re still here.”

“I wish I knew,” Sawyer replied, a hint of unease in his voice. “But I have a more pressing issue.”

“The zombies aren’t just growing in numbers,” Sawyer pointed out, “they’re becoming faster and stronger.”

“True,” Bonny agreed. “The longer we stay here, the better Melinda controls the world, and the stronger she gets. The only way out is to find out the rules, or get ejected by a stronger force.”

Sawyer glanced back. There were now five hogs, and the last two were significantly larger, gaining on them rapidly.

“From the look of things,” Sawyer observed, “I don’t think she’ll be telling us the rules, even if we asked nicely.”

“True,” Bonny replied.

“We just have to force her to tell us,” Bonny suggested.

“Force her?” Sawyer exclaimed as Bonny abruptly stopped in front of a wall.

“Fuck!” Bonny cursed, turning towards a staircase leading down to the subway. He sped towards it.

Sawyer clenched his teeth as the motorcycle roared down the stairs, plunging into the darkness of the subway tunnel. He could see the red glow of Melinda’s magic gaining on them from behind.

“Shit, a red light!” Sawyer yelled.

“Look out—” Bonny started, but he didn’t finish his sentence. A blast of red energy slammed into them, sending Sawyer flying off the bike. He crashed against a concrete pillar and rolled onto the grimy floor.

His consciousness flickered, threatening to slip away. This would be a very bad place to lose consciousness, he thought, biting his lip hard to stay awake. His eyes searched for Bonny, who was now getting to his feet. Sawyer struggled to stand, noticing that Bonny was limping, one leg appearing to be broken.

“Are you okay, kid?” Bonny asked, helping Sawyer up.

Sawyer nodded.

“Who exactly are you?” Bonny asked.

“Um… is that a rhetorical question, or are you actually asking?” Sawyer replied, confused.

“Did you see what you did at the last minute?” Bonny asked.

“What did I do?” Sawyer asked. Bonny opened his mouth to explain but then stopped himself.

“It’ll be better if he explained it,” Bonny said cryptically. Sawyer wanted to press him for more information, but they had more pressing matters to deal with, like the horde of zombies and their enraged queen.

“What are our chances of surviving?” Sawyer asked.

“Let me answer that for you,” Melinda interrupted, sliding down from the back of one of her hogs. “None!”

She pointed her wand at them. “Magic Law (I)—Sanguis Explodere!”

A large red ball of energy materialized in front of them, then rapidly expanded, exploding outwards.

“Not again!” Sawyer managed to shout.