CHAPTER SEVEN
MALIK
I stormed toward the exit of Mathias’ estate, my wrath a living thing clawing at my insides.
“Watch Rosie,” I told the maid, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
She nodded with wide eyes as she scooped the child into her arms. I didn’t wait to see if Rosie’s face crumpled into tears or clung to hope; there was no space in my head for anything but the blistering anger.
As I made my way out, my boots clattered against the wooden floor, slamming the door behind me with a resounding thud that seemed to echo my fury. The house—the cage of my own making—fell away behind me as I strode toward the stables. My fingers itched for action, anything, to unleash this torrent within.
Upon reaching the stables, I swung the door open, and it banged against the wall. The horses startled at the intrusion, their eyes rolling with nerves. I approached the nearest stall, the one housing a chestnut mare with a blaze running down her nose, Swiftwind. She snorted, sensing my mood, but I had no patience for gentleness. I grabbed her halter and led her out, saddling her with swift, jerky movements.
Once mounted, I dug my heels into Swiftwind’s flanks, and we shot forward like an arrow from a bow. The rhythm of her hooves pounding the earth became the soundtrack to the chaos in my mind. Trees blurred past as we tore through the familiar paths, the wind lashing against my face, doing nothing to cool the heat of my anger.
Then came the haunting thoughts, the dangerous game I’d played with fate not once but twice. Olivia and Roman, unwitting pawns in a match where I had lost control of the pieces long ago. Memories flickered, cruel and taunting—fire licking at ancient timber, screams filling the night air—an earlier life’s tragedy that I had hoped would remain buried. Yet, here I was again, threading the needle between salvation and damnation, and the eye was ever-narrowing.
I leaned into Swiftwind’s gallop, urging her faster as if I could outrun the regret that clung to me like a shroud. The forest became a green blur, shrouded with shadows, and I welcomed the numbness that riding always brought. It was a temporary escape, a momentary lapse in the relentless tide of self-recrimination that threatened to drown me. But even as Swiftwind’s powerful strides carried me further away from the house, there was no escaping the truth—I had screwed up. And this time, the cost might be more than I could bear.
Swiftwind’s hooves pounded the earth with a rhythmic fury that matched the turmoil in my chest. I could no longer tell where her heartbeat ended, and mine began, our syncopated pulsing a testament to the chaos ensnaring my thoughts. The secrets I harbored were a poison coursing through my veins, and I was its sole antidote—a cure I couldn’t administer.
“Marcellious,” I hissed into the rush of wind. He had been right beside me, within arm’s reach, and then, just like that, snatched away by malevolent forces I could neither predict nor understand. How could I have allowed it? How could I be so careless? Anger at myself bubbled and seethed—a cauldron of self-loathing ready to erupt.
The canter slowed to a trot, and Swiftwind’s breath came out in labored puffs. Every snapped twig or rustle in the underbrush felt like an accusation, a reminder of my failure. We were in this together—Roman, Marcellious, and me—and the weight of their fates bore down on me with the gravity of a thousand moons.
“Mathias won’t find him,” I muttered to Swiftwind, though she offered no solace. “He’s telling them lies when I know he’s not even looking.”
My grip on the reins tightened. Trusting Mathias, a man whose motives were as murky as the ocean’s depths, was a fool’s errand. But what choice did I have?
My chest constricted, a vice around my heart. I should’ve kept them close and seen the danger simmering beneath the surface. Instead, I led them straight into the mouth of the beast, blinded by my hubris and deafened by my arrogance. If only I hadn’t taken them for supplies, hadn’t left the safety of our sanctuary. Regret gnawed at me, a relentless hound with a taste for my spirit.
“Forgive me,” I whispered to the wind, the trees, and the gods who had turned their backs on us long ago. “I’ll find you, Marcellious. I swear it.”
The words were a vow etched in the marrow of my bones. But promises, I knew all too well, were fragile things—easily made and more easily broken.
Then there was that other disturbing fact—Alina was alive.
That sentence snaked through the chaos like poison, tightening around my heart with every repetition. She was a specter from the past, resurrected to haunt the present, and her survival threatened to unravel everything we had worked for. How she managed to cheat death was beyond me, and I shuddered at the implications of her return.
Swiftwind’s breaths came in heated gusts, fogging the cool air in a cloud that dissipated as quickly as it formed. We raced through the forest, the looming trees standing sentinel over our desperate flight. But it wasn’t just an escape; it was a pursuit of answers, guidance, and any semblance of control in a world that seemed determined to slip through my fingers like grains of sand.
The house appeared as we rounded a bend, its wooden frame modest and unassuming amidst the wild. Zara’s abode was the only place left where wisdom might be found, where I could sift through the wreckage of my decisions and salvage some hope. I needed her insight, her foresight, something to cling to in this maelstrom.
“Easy, girl,” I murmured, pulling back on the reins to slow Swiftwind. The horse snorted, her sides heaving, and together, we approached the house nestled in the embrace of the forest.
I dismounted, my boots sinking into the loamy soil, ground tied Swiftwind, and strode toward the door with determination etched into every line of my body. I had come for counsel but also for absolution, for some sign that the path I trod wasn’t leading us all to ruin.
“Zara,” I called out, urgency lacing my voice. “We must talk immediately. The plan is getting out of control.”
I hammered my fists against the weathered wood of Zara’s door, the sound echoing like a drumbeat of my fraying nerves. The door creaked open as if she had been waiting just beyond it, her piercing eyes meeting mine with an unsettling calm.
“Malik,” she said, stepping aside to allow me entry into the humble space crowded with books and jars of mysterious contents used for healing.
I burst past the threshold, my voice raw with panic and frustration. “Everything is a fucking mess. We put Olivia and Roman in danger.”
“Malik, calm down,” Zara said, her voice steady as a rock amidst my storm. But I couldn’t stop; the floodgates had opened.
“And Marcellious... he’s gone,” I continued, stalking through the small main room, my boots scuffing against the wooden floor. “He’s been taken by Raul and his Timehunters. You were right about everything!”
Zara shoved me hard against the back of the worn-out couch. I stumbled before tumbling onto the cushions.
“Why are you here?” Her voice cracked like a whip, each word a pointed barb aimed at my already raw conscience. “You’re only supposed to be here if Roman and Olivia are dead, imprisoned, or worse.”
I struggled to regain my composure, my mind spinning from the abruptness of her anger.
“Fuck, Zara, I—” My words were cut off as I caught a glimpse of her face, contorted not just with fury but with disappointment.
“Stop it!” She advanced on me, jabbing her finger toward my chest. “Compose yourself. I can’t even understand you.”
Her admonishment felt like a splash of cold water. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of my emotions and piece together the fragments of our conversation that now seemed scattered across the floor like the pages of one of her tomes.
Regaining my breath, I pushed myself into a sitting position. As I looked up at Zara, a smile cracked through the turmoil on my face. Despite her sternness, a familiar warmth coursed through me. She had been more than a mentor; she was the closest thing to family I had left, like my mother. Through centuries of upheaval and lifetimes of loss, she had remained a constant, guiding me with a firm hand after Balthazar betrayed me.
“Slow down and tell me what’s going on,” she said, her voice softening. “What happened? You came here in such a rush.”
“I can’t believe you were right about everything,” I said, each word laced with the gravity of our shared history. “Everything you warned me about Mathias, Alina, and their monstrous ways is true.”
Zara’s eyes held mine, searching for sincerity, for the trust woven into the fabric of our relationship.
“Even after I showed you the past,” she said, her voice low but laced with an unmistakable ache, “even after I cared for you like my own son, you still doubt me.” She paused, her expression hardening though the pain lingered in her tone. “We’re fighting for the same side, Malik. I’ve suffered just as much, if not more, at the hands of the same enemies you despise. Don’t forget, you saw it. You saw how Mathias orchestrated the slaughter of my family by those Timehunters. You know what they’ve done.
“I know, Zara,” I said. “I saw it all unfold. But now Balthazar... he’s been captured. And Alina… She’s alive. Every single truth that you have said and shown me is believable. I feel disgusted with myself for not trusting you one hundred percent.”
Anguish twisted my features as I confronted the gravest truth. “I was used by Mathias and put Olivia and Roman in danger!”
The confession whipped me, the sting of guilt sharp against my failures.
“Zara,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, “I’m lost without your guidance.”
Silence enveloped us, and in her eyes, I saw the reflection of our unspoken understanding—the promise that we would see this through together, no matter the cost. I pushed to stand.
A torrent of regret swept through me as I paced across the timeworn planks of Zara’s secluded refuge. The air was thick with my self-loathing, a suffocating cloud that refused to dissipate.
Zara gripped my shoulders, anchoring me back to the present.
“Malik, stop.” Her voice was a force to be reckoned with, pulling me from the quicksand of my thoughts. “Don’t be angry. Don’t drown yourself in guilt over Balthazar’s capture. He deserves this. He needs time to reckon with the pain and devastation he’s inflicted on Olivia and so many others. Let him stay captive. Let him confront his sins.”
Her reminder was a spear through my heart, for I knew the pain and the vengeance that fueled her every move. It was a pain we shared, a bond forged in the fires of loss and injustice. How could I doubt her? How could I not see that every step she took was pursuing retribution for those timeless wounds? In the steadying grasp of her hands, the chaotic pulse of my heart slowed. The anger that had threatened to consume me ebbed away, leaving behind the embers of resolve.
She had cared for me through the ages, her guidance the compass by which I navigated the perilous waters of our shared destiny. In the quiet strength of her hold, I found the courage to let go of my rage, to trust in the path she had laid before us.
“What about Alina?” I asked. “She’s alive, which means Olivia is in danger.”
The thought of Alina, with all her cunning and malice, set loose upon the world once more sent shivers down my spine.
Zara’s words rang out in the quiet room, her voice firm and commanding. There was no room for argument.
“Alina should be the one worrying about Olivia, not the other way around,” she said, her steel eyes fixed on me. “You must protect Olivia and Roman so they can fulfill their destiny. But you also know that Alina and Mathias will stop at nothing to prevent that from happening. As members of the darkness, our sworn duty is to protect and care for the Timebornes. We were never meant to hunt them down and destroy them.”
Her gaze pierced through me, reminding me of my oath to protect Timebornes. The sacred duty that was now mine.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of destiny upon my shoulders. Protecting the Timebornes wasn’t just a mission—it was a calling. One I couldn’t fail. Not now, not ever.
“Zara,” I said, “you were always right about Mathias. I wanted to believe there was some part of him that wasn’t as you said.”
Regret tinged my voice, the taste of it bitter on my tongue.
She regarded me with an unwavering gaze, disappointment etched deeply into her features. “After everything we’ve endured together, all the sacrifices I’ve made for you, you still doubt me. I’ve protected you, Malik. I helped raise Rosie as if she were my own, yet you still question me.
Her words settled on my shoulders, heavier than any physical burden.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry to have doubted you. I’m just shocked by recent events. I want to take Roman and Olivia out of there immediately. It doesn’t feel safe. Especially since she’s about to have her baby.”
“Not yet,” Zara interjected sharply, halting my cascade of worries. “Not till the moon dagger is found. Olivia needs to possess both blades.”
My heart clenched. “Everything feels so fragile right now. Olivia is about to have a baby. Emily just birthed baby Leo, and Mathias killed Tristan. If I hadn’t ordered Roman to bring him, he wouldn’t be dead.” A pang of guilt cut through me. “I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for Balthazar, but it’s still heartbreaking. He’s lost another child.”
“Malik, you can’t shoulder the blame for this,” she said, stepping closer, her presence steady and reassuring. “We need Mathias to believe he’s in control, that we’re nothing more than pawns in his game. You must play the part—act clueless, the loyal and obedient student. Mathias and Alina aren’t acting on their own. Salvatore’s will dictates every move they make.”
Her eyes flickered to the side as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. “And Salvatore...he is weak. Weakened for some time now.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “He is desperate for the blades you and I are tasked with protecting. You must stay strong, follow Lazarus’ orders, and protect Olivia and Roman.”
I couldn’t help but ask, “How is Lazarus?”
A slight tremor passed through Zara’s body. “Lazarus is also weakening with each passing day. But I have hope that once the blades are reunited, they will restore some of his strength. But they will strengthen Salvatore, too.”
A grimace formed on my face. “Let’s hope Olivia is willing to embrace her fate and everything can be restored to its former glory. Have Roman and Olivia begun to recall their past yet?”
“Roman has some fragments of memories, but Olivia’s recollection is still minimal. It seems like there needs to be a catalyst for her to remember,” Zara said. “Malik, you know that everything will change once she remembers who she is and her destiny with Roman. Even Balthazar doesn’t recall their connection together.”
“You only remembered your destiny when Lazarus allowed it,” I said. “Maybe if Olivia sees him, she will remember too.”
“Lazarus is constantly monitoring and protecting Olivia from a distance along with us,” she said. “You must pretend to be an obedient and loyal student under Mathias’ command. Let him believe he has control while Lazarus watches him and Salvatore.”
Her words were filled with longing and determination. Her eyes held mine, imploring me to understand. “Let him think he’s in charge. We are watching him.”
I nodded, feeling the mantle of my duty settle back upon me. The game was far from over, and I had a part to play. For now, I would wear the mask of ignorance, biding my time until the moment to strike presented itself. For Olivia, for Roman, for all Timebornes, I would not falter.
“It’s upsetting that Tristan is dead,” Zara said, a hint of sorrow lacing her usually unwavering tone. “But now I know why Mathias did that. Balthazar did love Tristan.”
She turned away slightly, her gaze falling on an old photograph on the mantel. “Mathias wanted to bring Balthazar to his knees by destroying the only thing Balthazar truly cares about—his children.”
Her silence was heavy, filled with unsaid truths and secrets too dangerous to voice. I could only imagine the weight of her knowledge.
“Zara,” I said, “I’m losing control. This past week has been... challenging.”
The words felt like an understatement. Every action and every decision seemed to be teetering on the brink of disaster.
“I want to put Olivia and Roman in safety, not danger. I keep putting them in harm’s way.” My throat tightened, the conflict between duty and emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “I don’t know if I can keep putting on this facade. I want to rip Mathias apart, piece by piece.”
She faced me again, her eyes steady and reassuring. “Patience, Malik. Keeping the facade is hard, especially given the past you shared with Olivia and Roman. But we are closer than you think…so close.”
The room seemed to close around us, the shadows whispering of battles yet to come and the fragile lives that hung in the balance. I found a flicker of strength in Zara’s unwavering gaze to continue the fight.
“If any harm comes to them,” I said, my voice low and laced with a threat I couldn’t quite contain, “I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“Malik.” Zara’s tone was as firm as granite. “Stay focused on your duty. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. Find the dagger. Once you have it, get everyone out of that house—no delays, no mistakes.”
Her eyes held mine, unblinking, a silent command that brooked no argument.
A heart-wrenching moan shattered the silence. My body tensed as I turned to Zara with confusion and concern.
“There’s something you should know—I have Marcellious,” she said, her tone softening but still edged with steel.
The revelation brought a tumultuous mix of relief and confusion. How had she found Marcellious? I had to see for myself.
I stood in the sparse light of Zara’s living room, the scent of dried herbs and something metallic lingering in the air. My heart was a heavy drumbeat in my chest, echoing the shock that gripped me as her words settled into my consciousness.
“He’s here,” she said, her voice steady with a gravity that pulled at my soul. “I had someone get him away from the Timehunters.”
“Marcellious is here?” My voice was a mere whisper, disbelief painting each syllable. How? The walls of this modest house felt too close, the reality of his presence pressing down on me.
Zara nodded. “He was in an abandoned home not far from here. He’s here, healing slowly.”
Images of Marcellious, broken and battered, flashed before my eyes.
“I have to go tend him,” Zara said, her expression turning grave as she moved toward the noise with a purposeful stride.
The sight that greeted us in the adjacent room struck me with cold dread. Marcellious lay on a makeshift bed. His body was wracked with convulsions. He was a shadow of his former self—beaten, bruised, and emaciated—his skin pallid and slick with sweat.
Zara approached the bed. She whispered words meant to soothe him, but his body continued to thrash wildly, revealing the depth of his agony.
I tried to steady his flailing arms and legs, the muscles beneath his battered skin twitching uncontrollably. It was like trying to restrain the sea itself—unpredictable and overpowering.
“Get a bottle of Calabar healing potion,” Zara said over the chaos, her eyes never leaving Marcellious’ tormented face. “It’s an antidote for belladonna. It’s in the next room in a cupboard across the bed.”
Driven by the urgency in her voice, I bolted for the door, my heart pounding against my chest. I burst into the next room, my mind racing.
The sight before me slammed into my senses like a rogue wave, halting my step. There, upon the unadorned bed, lay a woman, naked, her skin a moonlit tapestry against the linen.
She was not merely beautiful but the incarnation of every unspoken dream that had ever danced at the edges of my consciousness. Her form was a delicate interplay of shadow and light, curves and lines composing artistry so natural that it seemed to mock the notion of flaw.
I sucked in a breath as a strange captivation took hold of me, a magnetism I had never known. It was as if her very presence reached into the deepest vaults of my being, touching a part of me that was hidden even from me.
Time slowed, and I faltered, ensnared by something beyond visual allure. She was the embodiment of vulnerability and strength entwined, a silent siren call that spoke directly to the dormant protector within me.
Duty roared back into focus, a clarion call that could not be ignored. With a wrenching effort, I tore my gaze away from the enigmatic figure on the bed, chastising myself for the lapse.
“Do what you came to do, Malik,” I muttered, scouring the room for the potion that promised salvation. As lonely as I was, I could not yield to temptation. And yet, as I knew all too well, when did I ever listen to reason when it came to a woman—especially one as captivating as the one who lay before me?