CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
OLIVIA
D runk on love and with our bellies full of nourishing food, Roman and I shuffled down the corridor, our steps muffled by the plush carpets sprawling like a sea of red velvet beneath our feet. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood, copal, and old books—a fragrance that clung to the ancient walls of Amir’s underground palace. Roman’s arm brushed against mine as we walked, the warmth of our tangled sheets still lingering between us.
We were giddy, almost tipsy, on the heady blend of danger and desire that had consumed us just hours before. Along the path, we stole kisses like precious treasures, each promising more. Our insatiable hunger for one another remained a flame neither of us wished to extinguish.
As we neared the heavy oak doors, the gravity of our mission returned, pulling me back to the reality of what lay ahead. Yet, the glow of the night lingered on my skin, a radiant aftermath of being wrapped in Roman’s embrace.
With a gentle push, the doors creaked open, revealing Amir’s study. He glanced up from an ancient tome, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I trust you slept well,” he said, his voice laced with humor and a shrewd glint in his gaze. “Though I suspect sleep was not your primary indulgence.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks at his words, painting them a telltale shade of crimson. There was no concealing the fervor that clung to us, as tangible as the morning dew on the palace’s stone walls. Amid the embarrassment, though, a flicker of pride warmed me—pride for the connection Roman and I shared, a bond that was ours and ours alone.
“Indeed,” I managed to reply, lifting my chin slightly. The blush remained—a banner of the love I bore for my husband—but I refused to let Amir’s teasing diminish the beauty of what Roman and I had found in each other.
“Alright, let’s get down to it,” Amir said, his voice taking on a serious tone. He stood and meandered toward the same darkened closet where, just yesterday, he had unearthed the daggers.
Anticipation coiled within me like a spring as he disappeared into the shadows. Moments later, he emerged cradling a tome so ancient its very presence seemed to hum with the weight of bygone eras. The leather binding was cracked and weathered, the color of deep mahogany, and it bore intricate etchings that whispered of arcane knowledge and secrets locked away in time. Bound with robust cords, the edges of its pages gleamed faintly, tinged with gold that glinted in the study’s dim light.
“Here,” Amir said, extending the book toward me with a reverence that bordered on the ceremonious. I reached out and accepted the relic with equal care, feeling the cool brush of the leather against my palms.
“Behold, the book of the alphabet you need to decipher,” Amir said. “You must figure out the words one by one. I can offer guidance if needed, but you should embark on this journey together.”
His expression carried a conspiratorial edge as though he were privy to some secret jest at our expense. “Make yourselves comfortable in my study. I shall bring food and drink to sustain you while you work.”
With that, his gaze lingered on us, amusement twinkling before he strode from the room. The door shut softly, leaving Roman and me with the venerable volume—a book that promised both enlightenment and enigma, its secrets waiting to be unraveled.
Settling into the plush loveseat tucked in the corner of the study, I playfully tugged Roman down beside me. He grabbed a nearby cushion with a mischievous glint and tossed it at me. Laughter filled the room as we engaged in a spontaneous pillow fight, the seriousness of our mission momentarily forgotten.
A sense of freedom and youthfulness washed over me, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years. The pillows flew back and forth in a playful flurry until we finally called a truce, both breathless and grinning.
“Let’s not forget why we’re here,” I teased, though the warmth of his body beside mine made it tempting to ignore the work awaiting us. Roman’s deep, soothing laughter echoed my sentiment before he leaned in for a kiss—a lingering reminder of our shared night.
“Work it is,” he said.
Pulling himself away from our shared cocoon, Roman unfurled the leather bundle that encased the blades onto his lap. They shimmered with an ethereal light, their edges sharp and gleaming. The metallic sheen seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if the daggers were aware of their imminent role in decoding the ancient script.
“I need something to write with,” I said, unwilling to leave his side for even a moment.
My fingers brushed the polished surface of the desk as I searched, eventually encountering a stack of thick, luxurious paper. It was likely imported from Persia, and its texture was a testament to its quality.
“The finest paper for the most sacred of words,” I mused, a smile curving my lips.
Beside the paper lay a Qalam, its reed body honed to perfection, ready to dance across the page. A small pot of black ink rested nearby, a concoction of lampblack, gum Arabic, and water—a perfect blend of artistry and precision.
“The tools of scholars and poets,” I said, lifting the Qalam with reverence.
“Let’s move to the desk,” I suggested, carefully gathering the paper, pen, and ink. “We wouldn’t want to risk staining the loveseat or letting our fervor for knowledge ruin the furniture. Pull up a chair, Roman,” I added, my tone still laced with the playful energy of our earlier antics.
He dragged a chair to my side and carefully laid out the sun and moon daggers atop Amir’s grand desk. The leather wrapping unfurled like an ancient scroll, revealing the blades’ intricate designs and the enigmatic scripture carved into their surfaces.
“Let’s make this interesting,” I said with a sly smile. “For every word we decipher, a reward.”
Roman’s brow arched. “What kind of reward?” he asked, his lips curving into a grin. “Kisses, perhaps?”
I nodded, meeting his playful gaze. “Exactly.”
“Sounds delightful,” he said, his voice warm and full of anticipation.
We leaned close together, our heads nearly touching as we pored over the ancient text. The air between us crackled with a mix of concentration and an unspoken intimacy. Each time we unraveled a word, our lips met in celebration—a soft, fleeting kiss that left us craving more but kept us grounded in our shared task.
The hours slipped by in a haze of stolen glances, light brushes of fingertips, and the silent language of lovers united by a singular purpose. Our kisses became punctuation marks for our successes, each sweeter and more rewarding than the last. The afternoon melted into evening, the light outside dimming as our work brought us closer to the truth.
“Look, Roman!” I exclaimed, my pulse quickening as the final word fell into place.
The daggers trembled on the desk, their metallic surfaces shimmering as if alive. A low hum emanated from them, vibrating with a force that sent a thrill down my spine.
I reached for the blades, my fingertips grazing their glowing edges. They burned with an ethereal light, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. The ancient words I had deciphered tumbled from my lips, each syllable resonating with a foreign and familiar power.
“ iinani ‘adeu qiwaa alsama’ aleazimati, wa’atlub mink ‘an tutliq aleinan linurki ,” I said, reading from the deciphered script on the paper. “ Biaistikhdam shafarat alquat alqadimat hadhihi, ‘adeu alshams walqamar wazilal alliyl. ‘arshad rihlatay eabr thanaya alzaman, hayth al’asrar alqadimat makhfiat ean al’anzari. dae hadhih alshafarat tashuqu hajb aleusur baynama ‘usafir taht daw’ alnujumi. ‘anar hikmatak ealaa aldurub ghayr almatruqati, wamnahni albasar hayth yasud alzalamu. man lahib alshams aleanif ‘iilaa lamsat alqamar albaridati, ‘anr tariqi bialsalasil alsamawiati. fi hadhih alraqsat mae zilal alzaman aleamiqati, hayth tamtazij al’asda’ watabqaa alhaqiqatu, makanani min aleuthur ealaa almafqudi, warabt makasib almadi walmustaqbali. ”
As I recited the ancient text, I translated it in my mind. I call upon the great forces of the sky; I ask you to unleash your light. With these ancient blades of power, I call upon the night’s sun, moon, and shadows. Guide my journey through the folds of time, where old secrets are kept from sight. Let these blades cleave the veils of ages as I travel under starry light. Shine your wisdom on paths untread, and grant me the sight where darkness reigns. From the sun’s fierce blaze to the moon’s cool touch, illuminate my way with heavenly chains. This dance with time’s deep shadows, where echoes blend, and the truth remains, empowers me to find the lost and to bind the past and future’s gains.
As the incantation climaxed, the blades moved of their own accord, sliding across the table like two celestial lovers drawn by destiny. The sun embraced the moon in an ethereal dance, their luminous forms merging seamlessly. The moon cradled the sun in a perfect union, and a crescendo of radiant light enveloped the room.
I gasped, exhilarated. We had done it. The ancient scripture had been deciphered, and now, before our eyes, the blades had fused into one.
The glow dimmed slowly, the brilliant display fading into a muted silence. The conjoined blades lay still, inert. Their brief luminescence, which had filled the room with otherworldly energy, was replaced by an almost anticlimactic stillness.
Roman and I held our breaths, waiting for a sign, a continuation of the miracle we had witnessed. But nothing came—only a pervasive quiet, punctuated by the faint crackle of the oil lamps in the study. Disappointment settled over us like fine dust, heavy and suffocating.
“Roman,” I breathed, trembling, “why did it stop? Did we do something wrong?”
A wave of panic surged through me, threatening to drown out any rational thoughts. My breaths quickened, shallow and uneven. My mind raced with fear and uncertainty, my body stiffening as a suffocating sense of defeat closed in. It felt like falling into an abyss, the weight of helplessness pressing against my chest.
Roman’s steady voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Let’s go get my father and ask him.”
Nodding, I clung to the sliver of hope in his calm resolve. Together, we left the study behind, our footsteps hushed against the rich carpets lining the underground palace’s corridors.
The dining area awaited us, an opulent space that exuded a sense of grandeur. Gilded archways framed the doorways, their golden sheen catching the flickering light of the oil lamps. The walls bore intricate mosaics, vibrant depictions of conquest and splendor from the Ottoman Empire’s storied past. Persian carpets softened our steps, their patterns a kaleidoscope of vivid colors and intricate designs. A long dining table carved from dark mahogany dominated the center of the room. Its rich, polished surface reflected the warm glow of the hanging lamps above. Cushioned divans surrounded it, their inviting fabric calling for relaxation and leisure.
Amir sat at the head of the table, commanding even in repose. An array of dishes was spread before him—honey-drizzled figs that filled the air with sweetness, the savory aroma of spiced lamb simmering nearby, and a bowl of jewel-like pomegranate seeds catching the light. A stack of fresh flatbreads lay within easy reach, their edges curling with steam.
“Father,” Roman said hesitantly, the word unfamiliar on his tongue.
Amir looked up, his keen eyes immediately locking onto the blade we carried between us. A flicker of delight crossed his face.
“Ah! What is this?” he said, his voice brimming with approval. “I see you did not need my help. This is most excellent.”
“Amir,” I began, my voice tight as I fought to keep my frustration in check. “The blades—they’re not...”
I trailed off, extending the conjoined sun and moon daggers. Their lifeless form felt heavier than before, a tangible reminder of our perceived failure. They lay cold and unremarkable in my hands, stripped of the light and power we had anticipated.
“I’m impressed,” Amir said, leaning back in his chair to survey our work. His praise felt hollow against the weight of disappointment crushing my chest.
“They’re dead,” I blurted, my desperation slipping through my words. “Nothing is happening. Our daggers at least light up when awakened.”
“You connected the blades, yes,” Amir said, his tone maddeningly casual. “But now you need the Scrolls of Time.”
“The Scrolls of Time?” I repeated, exhaling heavily. The thought of another obstacle, another hunt, when victory had seemed so tantalizingly close, felt unbearable. “What are these scrolls?”
“It’s like a recipe,” Amir said, reaching for a cluster of grapes and popping one into his mouth with infuriating ease. “They guide you on how to make the blades truly alive and powerful.”
Frustration boiled over inside me, the heat of it rising to my cheeks. “You should have prepared us. You should have at least mentioned there were more steps to the process!”
Amir’s expression remained composed, his calm juxtaposed with my agitation. “Had I told you, would you have even learned the scriptures?” he asked, his voice sharp yet patient. “No. You would have given up.”
“Where do we find these scrolls?” Roman interjected, his arm slipping around my waist in silent support.
“Your father, Jack, has them,” Amir said, his piercing gaze landing on me.
My heart sank further. Another puzzle piece lay hidden, waiting for us to unearth it. The path ahead promised to be fraught with more secrets and trials than I had ever imagined.
“Are you kidding? My father has the scrolls?” I asked, my voice a mixture of disbelief and anger. The room spun slightly as Amir’s revelation bore down on me.
“Yes, your father,” Amir confirmed. “He is a man with many secrets. It’s time for you to travel back to the twenty-first century and see your father, Jack James. The full moon is in a few days. You must all prepare. Only your father can help you because he is the keeper and protector of the Scrolls of Time.”
“My daughter is a Timeborne,” I said, the fear for Luna’s future clawing at my chest. “If we time travel, her darkness will awaken.”
Amir sighed, his tone softening only slightly. “There are far greater things to worry about, my dear. You must fear Mathias, Alina, Salvatore, and his army of darkness. Malik will come with you to keep you safe.”
The reality of what lay ahead settled into my bones, heavy and unrelenting. Enemies were closing in, and our family’s safety hinged on actions we had yet to understand, let alone master.
“Then we have no choice,” Roman murmured, his hand tightening on my waist as he read the resignation in my eyes.
“None whatsoever.” Amir stood, his form imposing as he pushed away his plate. “Make your preparations. Time waits for no one.”
He dabbed his lips with a cloth napkin, his words like a solemn decree. “It’s going to be a long journey. Prepare.”
The weight of his gaze felt like chains around my wrists, binding me to the path I could not escape. I drew a deep breath, trying to quell the nerves fluttering in my chest like caged birds. Time travel was not new to me, but it had been an eternity since I last ripped through the fabric of time. The thought alone made my stomach churn.
With Amir’s departure, a heavy silence filled the room. My mind reeled from his words, each a bitter pill laced with hidden truths and veiled intentions.
“Great. Now I have learned that my father has been keeping more secrets from me,” I whispered. “Is there anyone in my life who has not deceived me?”
As I turned to face Roman, the ache in my heart eased. His eyes, steady and sincere, met mine, and a wave of warmth washed over me. In that gaze, I found an anchor in the storm that raged around us.
“Never,” Roman said, brushing away the tear from my cheek. “You’ve always had me, Olivia, as your trusted companion, and you always will.”
His simple vow cut through the lies and secrets that seemed to ensnare us. He was my constant, the one soul whose love and loyalty remained unshaken amid the turmoil of our lives. With him by my side, I could weather any storm, decipher any mystery, and face whatever darkness threatened to consume us.
“Let’s prepare then,” I said, finding strength in his unwavering presence. “Together.”
We spent the day busying ourselves by gathering the necessary supplies for our upcoming time-travel journey. Meanwhile, we took every opportunity to spend quality time with the children. Rosie, in particular, was bursting with exuberance, bouncing from one corner of the room to the other as she helped pack and prepare for her next adventure.
“Malik will join us, won’t he?” she asked, already envisioning all the wondrous places they would discover together.
“Of course,” I said. “Come, sit now, and let me comb your hair.
Her lower lip stuck out in a pout, but she plopped before me on the carpeted floor. As she endured my attempts to tame her wild hair with an intricately decorated bone comb, she focused on the small wooden doll in her hands. The doll was dressed in a tiny kaftan, complete with delicate embroidery that mimicked the styles worn by the household women. Surrounding her were miniature pieces of furniture—a small bed with a quilted cover, a small table, and a set of polished metal cups and plates. She arranged her playthings carefully, creating a miniature world where her imagination could flourish.
Roman, who had disappeared some time ago to rock Luna for her nap, reappeared, his face soft with the triumph of a small victory.
“I got her to sleep, finally,” he said, leaning over to kiss my head. “The staff has prepared us supper to eat before nightfall.”
“Good,” I replied, pulling the comb through Rosie’s hair with finality. I tied her hair back into a ponytail with a silk ribbon.
“That will never last,” Roman said with a chuckle.
“I know.” I sighed, getting to my feet. “Let’s go eat, Rosie.”
Rosie slipped her small hand into mine, and we approached the dining room together.
The heaviness of the meal sat in my stomach as my mind churned with thoughts and worries about our upcoming time travel. It had been far too long since I had seen my father, and the anticipation was almost overwhelming. But amidst the excitement was a twinge of anxiety about the challenges ahead. We had already overcome so much on our journeys through time. Would we truly be granted safe passage to the 21st century? The uncertainty hung like an oppressive cloud, casting shadows over our plans and hopes for the future.
“I want to spend time with my father before we travel,” Roman said, breaking through the labyrinth of my thoughts.
Rosie perked up. “Can I come with you?”
Roman glanced at me before nodding. “Of course.”
“Enjoy yourselves,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “I need to get the kids’ things ready. Then let’s meet outside in the courtyard at nightfall.”
One of Amir’s guards escorted me up a twisting labyrinth of stairs and hurried me and Luna outside through a secret door. The sudden openness felt strange, almost surreal. A warm breeze teased my kaftan, making it ripple against my legs. The full moon cast its silvery glow over the underground palace, illuminating the courtyard in an ethereal light. I cradled Luna close, her small form both a source of comfort and a reminder of the fragility of the moment. As I approached the courtyard, my footsteps echoed softly on the cool stone walkway.
The shadows shifted unnaturally, forming into three hooded figures. In an instant, they lunged toward us. With one arm wrapped protectively around Luna as her screams pierced the night, I brandished my dagger in the other.
“Shh, darling, mommy’s here,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I parried a blow aimed at my heart.
My blade sang through the air, clashing violently against the steel of my assailants. The movements were sharp, desperate. I noticed a flash of red thread on their belts—different from the black insignia of Amir’s guards.
“Traitors!” I spat, realization dawning as my heart pounded like war drums.
Every strike of my dagger was fueled by an unwavering resolve to protect Luna. Her cries, raw and terrified, were a fierce reminder of what was at stake. The moon bore silent witness as I fought, the deadly dance casting fleeting shadows across the stones.
One by one, the attackers fell, their bodies crumpling at my feet. But there was no time to process the victory. Clutching Luna tightly to my chest, I ran, my lungs burning as I pushed forward toward the safety of the courtyard. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Luna’s cries echoed, a haunting, desperate melody propelling me forward.
A fourth figure emerged from the darkness, his blade catching the moonlight in a menacing gleam.
“Please, not my baby,” I whispered, sprinting toward the great gong that loomed at the courtyard’s edge. With every ounce of strength, I swung its mallet, unleashing a deafening clang that shattered the night’s stillness and reverberated through the stone walls.
The attacker surged toward me, his blade slicing through the air. Pain erupted in my arm as his weapon found its mark, sending searing agony radiating through my body. I stumbled to the ground, the cobblestones cold and unforgiving beneath me. Desperate, I wrapped myself around Luna, shielding her tiny frame as I braced for the final blow.
The man raised his blade high, his intent unmistakable. Tears blurred my vision as I whispered a silent prayer, holding Luna closer than ever.
Suddenly, a wall of fire erupted behind him. The searing heat illuminated the night, casting long, flickering shadows. The man froze, a crimson stain blooming on his chest. He staggered, his blade slipping from his grasp before he collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Behind him stood Balthazar, his imposing figure framed by the roaring flames, a look of triumph on his face.
He had saved us.
“Olivia, run, now!” His urgent voice shattered the paralysis gripping me. Adrenaline surged through my veins, propelling me to stand and move forward. Clutching Luna tightly, I sprinted away from the lingering danger.
Even as fear pounded in my ears, gratitude for Balthazar bloomed within me. He had risked his own life to save mine and my daughter’s. This was not the same man I had once known—he was stronger, braver, transformed into a protector I hadn’t expected.
“Run!” Balthazar’s voice rang out again, underscored by intense heat. Daring a glance back, I saw another assailant, his terror-stricken face lit by the flames before he was consumed, his body vanishing into an inferno. It was a vision from a nightmare, but in Balthazar’s hands, it became our salvation.
“Roman!” I screamed, blood trickling from my wounded arm as adrenaline pushed me onward. I pressed Luna closer, her cries muffled against my chest. The pain in my arm burned, but the need to protect her eclipsed everything else.
Roman and Amir stormed into the courtyard, Malik close behind with Rosie cradled in his arms. Their faces were etched with a volatile mix of concern and fury, their presence a fleeting beacon of hope. But relief was a luxury we couldn’t afford—it vanished as quickly as it came.
The five of us moved as one, our feet pounding the ground, desperately trying to escape the lurking threat. But our flight was abruptly halted.
Mathias and Salvatore materialized before us.
I skidded to a halt, my breath coming in ragged gasps as my heart thundered in my chest. The full moon illuminated their forms, their presence casting a suffocating shadow over the courtyard.
“Excellent work vanquishing the men I sent to apprehend you,” Salvatore drawled, his voice dripping with mockery.
A guttural scream of rage tore from my throat.
“Where are you running off to?” he asked, his sharp smile cutting through the night like broken glass. His gaze was icy and calculating, a predator savoring its cornered prey.
Roman’s steady presence anchored me, his hand brushing my back as if to remind me I wasn’t alone. I met Salvatore’s gaze head-on, unflinching despite the storm of terror raging within me.
“I’m going to defeat you,” I said, my voice hard with conviction.
“Are you now, my darling?” Salvatore’s tone was laced with amusement.
“I will destroy you,” I promised, though doubt coiled in the depths of my mind, whispering insidious uncertainties. But I stood tall, refusing to waver.
Salvatore’s smirk widened, a cruel twist of his lips as he stepped closer.
“Go on then and time travel,” he said, his voice laced with mockery as he advanced.
Confusion warred with fear within me. Why was he allowing us to leave?
“Your time travel daggers will no longer work since you connected the blades. Time travelers around the world are now stranded,” Salvatore declared, triumph gleaming in his eyes like polished steel.
A knot of dread lodged in my throat. The merging of the sun and moon daggers—the victory we had clung to so fiercely—had inadvertently sealed our fate. Standing before Salvatore, the full extent of our peril unfurled like a storm cloud overhead.
“Fight!” Amir’s command rang out like a thunderclap. From the shadows, Amir’s army of black-clad warriors emerged in a haunting procession, their movements fluid and silent, like specters materializing from the void. They moved precisely, weapons gleaming under the moonlight as they surrounded us.
But Salvatore’s power was overwhelming. With a mere flick of his wrists, the darkness engulfed them. One by one, Amir’s warriors doubled over in agony, their anguished groans piercing the charged air. Balthazar fell to his knees, his eyes bulging with pain. Always so strong and proud, Malik crumbled under the weight of an invisible force. Even Amir himself—regal and commanding—was reduced to a writhing figure on the ground.
The earth trembled beneath us as the knees of his entire army buckled in unison, their bodies collapsing like marionettes whose strings had been severed. I stood frozen, my heart pounding like a war drum, clutching Luna to my chest as her cries echoed in the night.
Beside me, Roman gently took Luna from my trembling arms. His strength was my anchor, grounding me amidst the chaos.
Roman guided the knife over Rosie’s and Luna’s tiny palms, his hands steady despite the anguish in his eyes. He tried to make the incision as gentle as possible, but even with his delicate touch, Luna’s piercing screams cut through the air, and Rosie wailed in pain. Their little hands trembled, tears streaming down their cheeks, each cry tugging at my heartstrings like a cruel melody. But I couldn’t falter now. I couldn’t let despair win.
“Watch me time travel,” I spat at Salvatore, trying to mask the tremor in my voice. With a resolute glare, I drew my dagger across my palm, the sharp sting of a line of fire. Blood welled up, hot and vivid against my skin. I raised the blade, reciting the scripture with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
The words fell flat.
The air remained still, and the dagger in my hand was cold, lifeless—an inert weight dripping with my blood. A wave of panic surged through me as I stared at the weapon, my voice faltering. The dagger that had once been a vessel of power now felt like a cruel betrayal. How could this be happening? The world had turned against me when I needed it most.
From the shadows, Mathias’ laughter joined Salvatore’s, the sound intertwining into a cruel harmony that echoed like a mocking hymn.
“See? We know more than you,” Mathias sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re so very stupid, Olivia. And where is your precious Lazarus now? In your moment of need, he is nowhere to be found. You’re alone.”
The taunt stung, each word slicing through my resolve like a dagger. Despair clawed its way up from the pit of my stomach, threatening to consume me whole. Salvatore’s sneer, a twisted mask of triumph, was the face of my failure.
“I’m the most powerful sorcerer in the world,” he declared, his voice heavy with finality. The air seemed to thrum with his dominance, pressing down on us with suffocating force. “Hand me the Blade of Shadows, Olivia. It’s your only chance for a merciful death.”
“No.” The word escaped me as a growl, raw and defiant. Resolve hardened within me like steel tempered in fire. “I will prove to you that I can make this work. I can do this.”
With fierce determination, I seized the sun and moon dagger, my grip steady despite the trembling of my heart. Without hesitation, I drew the blade across Roman’s palm, then over the children’s small hands, and finally across Malik’s. Crimson lines etched across our skin, our blood mingling in a single, vivid bond—a unity forged in desperation.
“Hold onto the blade,” I urged them, then repeated the scripture like a battle cry.
The blades began to hum, a low vibration that grew into a rustling sound, filling the night with a tangible sense of promise.
Unlike anything I had ever felt, a surge of power coursed through us. The blades ignited into a blaze of defiance, their light piercing the encroaching darkness. Heat radiated from their cores, illuminating our faces and casting stark shadows against the chaos surrounding us.
The world blurred, transforming into streaks of color and sound, a tempest cradling our existence. The scripture left my lips in a final crescendo, and then there was silence—a void that swallowed every echo of our defiance. The stillness pressed on my chest, heavy and unyielding.
With an explosive whoosh, reality snapped back like a taut string released. The air rushed into my lungs like I had been holding my breath for a lifetime. My eyes flew open at the sound of Luna’s cries, her small wails cutting through the residual haze of the spell.
Had I done it? Had I time traveled to the future?
I looked around, my vision slowly clearing to reveal a verdant sea of green. The familiar woods bordering my father’s home stretched out before me. The present—modern and overwhelming—hit me like a physical force. We stood out like misplaced echoes of another time, our Ottoman Empire attire with its heavy fabrics and intricate patterns stark against the simplicity of the modern world.
Rosie ran to Malik, clinging to his caftan as if he were her lifeline. Her wide eyes darted around, taking in the strangeness of our surroundings.
“Olivia!” Emily’s voice cut through my disorientation, sharp and clear like an anchor in the chaos. She emerged from the trees, her eyes wide with shock and relief. “Oh my goodness, Olivia is here!”
I handed Roman our baby, the weight of Luna transferring from my trembling arms to his steady ones.
“Emily!” My feet pounded against the ground as I sprinted toward her, my dagger bouncing in its sheath at my shoulder. My breath came in ragged gasps as I drew closer.
It was startling to see her in modern-day clothes—a cherry-red sundress that flowed with every graceful step, accentuating her curves. Her hair was intricately braided, framing her face like a crown, and she seemed to glow in the sunlight. There was an otherworldly beauty to her, as though she both belonged to this time and simultaneously transcended it.
“Oh, Emily,” I said, pulling her into a tight embrace. We rocked back and forth, the weight of time and separation melting away in those precious moments. When we finally withdrew, Emily’s eyes shone with unshed tears.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, trembling. “And by your look, you’ve been through hell.”
“You have no idea,” I replied, my voice breaking. “I have so much to tell you.”
Together, we raced toward my father’s house, the thud of our footsteps syncing with the frantic rhythm of my heart. A cold dread settled over me as the familiar structure came into view. The icy fingers of fear gripped me when I saw the scene unfolding at the doorway.
There, in the open entrance, stood my father, his face pale and ashen, a gun pressed to his temple. The hand holding the weapon was not unfamiliar—it belonged to my mother, Alina. Her eyes were cold, calculating, and filled with venom. Her finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger.
The memory of Tristan holding a gun to my father’s head surged forward, but now it was my mother—the woman who had given me life—poised to end his.
The metallic glint of the gun caught the sunlight streaming through the trees, casting ominous shadows on my father’s terrified face. He pleaded silently with her, his lips moving without sound, his eyes wide and imploring. My heart pounded like thunder in my chest, bile rising in my throat as I grappled with the horror of it.
“You stay the fuck right there,” Alina shouted, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. “You come any closer, and I’ll pull the trigger. I’ll kill your precious father, and then I’ll kill you.”
“Mom!” The word burst from my lips, sharp and acidic. I spat the title like it was poison. “Salvatore has corrupted your mind!”
“Don’t talk to me about Salvatore!” she sneered, her grip on the gun unwavering. Her eyes blazed with a fury that made my blood run cold. “Your father—this conniving, son-of-a-bitch man—was right under my nose with the scrolls. He played me for a fool! Acting like some helpless, depressed shell when all along, he knew exactly what he was keeping from me.”
“Mom, please,” I said. I was desperate to reach some shred of empathy within her, so she didn’t kill my father. “This isn’t who you are. Let me help you see that you don’t have to do this. Put the gun down, and we can work together to defeat Salvatore. I know some humanity is still inside you, buried deep within.”
She merely laughed a harsh and mocking sound that sent shivers down my spine. Her eyes were cold and unfeeling.
“I don’t need you and your idealistic talk of working together.” Her voice was the sound of winter through an empty hall. “Humanity? Ha! A meaningless concept to me.”
Emily and I tensed, our bodies taut with the readiness to act. But before we could move, the air shifted—charged with an oppressive energy that prickled against my skin.
Mathias materialized before us like a shadow-given form, his tall stature and piercing gaze commanding the space. He bore a predatory grin that sent waves of dread coursing through me. The air around him seemed to ripple and distort as though reality itself bent beneath the weight of his presence. His silent entrance was more deafening than any sound, a thunderclap of power that froze me in place.
“Why the fuck are you standing there? Shoot her!” Mathias barked at Alina, his tone sharp as a blade. His gaze fixated on the sun and moon dagger trembling in my hand. When Alina hesitated, he stormed forward, his movements swift and deliberate. Before I could react, his iron grip wrenched the blade from my grasp.
“Mom, no!” I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation. But my plea was drowned out by the deafening blast of the gun. Time slowed as I watched in horror, the bullet tearing through the air straight toward me.
Suddenly, Lee’s figure blurred into my line of sight, his body intercepting the bullet meant for me. The force of the impact jolted him backward, a sharp gasp escaping his lips before he crumpled to the ground.
In the blink of an eye, the sun and moon dagger disappeared—along with Alina, Mathias, and my father. The woods fell eerily silent, the haunting whisper of the wind the only trace left of their presence.
“Moon Lee!” Marcellious’ anguished scream tore through the quiet, a sound so raw and heart-wrenching it reverberated in my soul.
“Oh, gods!” Roman bellowed as he and Malik burst through the trees, the children—Luna and Rosie—clutched tightly in their arms.
Panic surged through my body as I fell to my knees, pressing my trembling hands against the bullet wound in Lee’s chest. Warm, sticky blood oozed between my fingers, staining them deep-crimson. My heart thundered in my chest as I desperately tried to stem the flow, each second feeling like a lifetime. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, sharp and bitter, as the weight of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders.
“Little Moon,” Lee rasped, his voice a fragile thread that fought against the inevitable. Blood flecked his lips as he spoke, each word a monumental effort. “My time has come. Fight for your destiny; fight for what is yours. We will see each other again.”
Each word felt like a parting gift, a fragile ember of hope against the encroaching shadows. His eyes locked with mine, filled with unwavering love and a profound sacrifice that shattered every barrier around my heart.
“No, Lee, please!” I screamed, my voice raw and breaking under the weight of grief. My cries echoed through the forest, carried by the wind like a desperate plea to the universe. Tears streamed down my face in relentless torrents as I clung to him, refusing to let go as if my sheer will could tether him to this world.
My chest tightened as though being crushed by an invisible force, each beat of my heart resonating with the searing pain in my soul. It felt as if every fiber of my being was being torn apart, unraveled into fragments too broken to piece back together.
Roman and Malik knelt beside me, their faces etched with despair. Together, we encircled Lee, enfolding him in our collective embrace as if the warmth of our presence could stave off the inevitable. The atmosphere grew heavier with each passing moment, the weight of our sorrow tangible, pressing against us like a suffocating fog.
Despite our desperate grip, the vitality within him ebbed away, slipping through our fingers like sand. His final breath was a whisper, a fleeting moment that left a chasm of silence. As we clung to him, unwilling to release him to the void, the crushing reality of his loss descended upon us.
Without his steadfast mentorship and unwavering support, the trials ahead seemed insurmountable, the path forward a daunting void. Yet even in the depth of our despair, his words echoed in my mind, igniting a fragile flame of resolve— Fight for your destiny; fight for what is yours.