“Never cross a warlock,” Rahul whispered, before slamming his flip phone shut, tossing it into a trash can nearby.

In the modern era, his phone choice might as well have been a magical relic. But in his line of work, burners were the best option to stay as far under the radar as possible, especially when you had an immortal trailing you in the darkness, with the human government not too far behind the hellhound.

Not that it’s helped, Rahul thought ruefully, picking up his pace as he charged towards his fate. Now, all roads lead to hell.

With the current of the world’s magical energy underneath his feet, the warlock glided down the streets of downtown Chicago as if he were invincible. But he knew his time was running out. A supernatural force was after his life. And it was closing in like a noose wrapped around a broken neck.

The dead of night clung to Rahul as he took a long drag of his cigarette, pausing near an alleyway, debating the best way to die that night. But the ancient force after him decided before he could react. A flash of light bathed his brown face in a hot white glow, and then the mysterious creature pounced.

“No!” Rahul gasped, far too late, unable to teleport away from the claws thrusting through his chest.

There was a flurry of fangs, the taste of blood, and the smell of burning flesh that consumed him whole. Rahul’s eyes flickered bright blue to gleaming gold before settling to a glassy black hue, devoid of his soul. They rolled upward towards the night sky, shrouded in crimson mist, blood seeping from his mouth.

The last image burned into his mind’s eye was that of a skeletal gray wolf, and then the world gave way to eternal night, Rahul, the Grand Warlock of Chicago, passing through the veil towards Death’s cruel embrace.