CHAPTER TEN
OLIVIA
T he majestic halls of Mathias’ estate were quieter than usual, the air thick with anticipation and a tinge of worry. I lingered at the threshold of Marcellious’ room, where the heavy scent of medicinal herbs and incense swirled in a stifling dance, masking the underlying stench of sickness. His body was a battleground, writhing one moment in the throes of Belladonna’s cruel withdrawal, then collapsing into fitful sleep the next.
Lee moved his hands with a healer’s grace over Marcellious, whispering words of an ancient tongue that seemed to coax the pain from his limbs.
Emily, her face etched with concern, never left Marcellious’ side, offering sips of water or mopping his brow with a cloth dipped in cool water, all while splitting her focus between him and baby Leo.
“Is he getting any better?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as if afraid to disturb the precarious peace.
“Slowly,” Lee replied without looking up, his focus unbreakable. “The poison has deep roots, but we’re untangling them individually.”
I found Reyna in the sun-drenched conservatory, a sanctuary of greenery that hummed with life. She sat on a wrought-iron bench, gazing out at the manicured gardens with a distant look in her eyes. A book lay open on her lap, forgotten. Her recovery was ongoing, the color slowly returning to her cheeks, yet there was a fragility about her, a sense that she was holding herself apart from the world around her.
“Reyna,” I said, approaching her with hesitant steps, “how are you feeling today?”
“Better, thank you,” she said, her voice soft like the rustle of leaves. “And how are you? ” she asked, her attention flitting toward my belly and back to her lap. Her gaze did not meet mine, and she offered no more words to bridge the gap between us.
“Well enough,” I said, touching my tummy. But I didn’t think she registered a word I said.
Osman passed by outside, his silhouette intersecting our line of sight. A flicker of recognition crossed her expression, and she seemed as though she might call out to him. Instead, she watched silently as he continued, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Would you like to walk in the garden?” I asked, hoping to coax her into the world again.
“Maybe later.” Her attention drifted back to the gardens beyond the glass. “Thank you, Olivia.”
I left her there, wrapped in the solace of solitude, the gentle hum of bees, and the whisper of leaves in her chosen company. I felt a kinship with her, a shared understanding of being lost in the shadows of grand events. Yet I knew better than to intrude further; some paths to healing needed to be walked alone.
All I knew about her was what Roman had told me—she was a Timebound on the run to find answers about the sun and moon dagger, and she was far from home. The weight of her captivity under Raul hung heavy in my thoughts. I could only begin to imagine the horrors she had endured.
Back in my chamber, I paced restlessly, the plush carpet beneath my feet doing little to dull the tension coiling within me.
Emily had started by never leaving Marcellious’ side, tending to him with quiet devotion. But exhaustion eventually pulled her away, and now she sat huddled in the corner of the room, her mind undoubtedly overwhelmed with worry and distress. She had just given birth to Leo, and now her husband had returned home battered and broken, leaving her caught between the needs of the two people she loved most.
Each member of our small community carried their battles within them. Still, for Emily, it seemed especially burdensome as she navigated the challenges of new motherhood while supporting her wounded spouse.
Beyond the panes of my window, the green expanse of the grounds spread far, bathed in the golden hues of the afternoon sun—a stark contrast to the shadowy depths of the caves where Roman and his team were toiling away.
They had been gone since dawn, a caravan of determined souls seeking the elusive moon dagger. With Malik at his side, Roman had more helpers now, more hands to dig through the earth, and eyes to scan for the shimmer of ancient metal. Each day without them pulled at me, a relentless tide tugging at the shore of my patience. I longed to be among them, to feel the cool touch of the cavern walls and the thrill of discovery in the air.
“Olivia, honey.” The soft call drifted through my chamber door, my mother’s voice as gentle as ever, reaching out to bridge the chasm between us.
I did not move to answer, nor did Emily, who sat quietly in the corner, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts.
“Olivia,” my mother said again, this time with a hint of persistence. “I’ve brought some lavender tea. It’s quite soothing.”
“Thank you, Mother, but I’m fine,” I replied, my gaze fixed on the distant tree line where the world disappeared into shadow and mystery.
“Your father would have wanted?—”
“Please, Mother,” Emily cut in, her voice firm as she rose to stand beside me, “Leave it be.”
Silence followed, stretching taut before the soft sound of retreating footsteps. My mother, ever the hovering phantom of concern, lingered long enough to remind us of her presence before fading into the hallway. She had learned to weather our rebuffs, yet she persisted, as steady and unyielding as the ivy climbing the stone walls outside.
Neither Emily nor I trusted her. Her story about what happened after Balthazar stabbed her was riddled with holes and inconsistencies. The revelation from Roman about her secret son with Raul only deepened the shadows of doubt. She had selectively written in her journal, omitting critical details and twisting the narrative to suit her design. And when Balthazar unveiled disturbing truths—claiming that my mother and Mathias were monsters to be feared—whatever fragile trust I had in her crumbled further.
Yet I had neither the time nor energy to untangle her web of lies.
“Roman should be here,” I muttered to Emily, my voice tight with frustration. “Not buried in those caves day after day.”
“Perhaps,” Emily said softly, “but he’s doing what he believes is necessary. Just as we must endure this waiting.”
“Endure.” The word tasted bitter on my tongue, a reminder of the helplessness that seemed to cling to my skirts like morning dew. I was no fragile woman to be kept aside while the world churned and changed beyond my reach. And yet, here I was, staring out at the horizon, wishing for the sight of Roman returning victorious, the moon dagger in hand.
“Come,” Emily said, taking my arm gently. “You must be excited about your upcoming birth. Let’s talk about it.”
“Thank you, sister, but no,” I replied, allowing a faint smile to tug at my lips. “I’d like to walk outside to clear my head.”
“As you wish,” Emily said with a nod. “I’ll return to Marcellious’ chamber.”
The sun was climbing toward noon when Reyna found me in the gardens. Her steps were cautious, and she faltered slightly on the dew-covered grass. I turned to face her, noting the pallor of her skin, which even the warm morning light failed to soften.
“Olivia,” she began, her voice trembling just enough to betray her unease, “I would like to go and see Osman at the cave. I want to check on their progress.”
She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if warding off a chill only she could feel. Her eyes burned with determination, but fear lingered beneath the surface, shadowing her expression.
“I have been away from home for so long,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “The longer Osman and I remain here searching for the blade, the more worried my father will become. He’ll start looking for me soon.”
Her words struck a deep chord within me, igniting a spark of purpose that had been smothered under layers of idleness. The image of Roman toiling in the caves day after day surged into my mind, stoking a sense of urgency I could no longer ignore.
“I deeply apologize, Reyna,” I said, my tone heavy with regret. “We’ve been selfish in our actions. Instead of sending you and Osman back home, we’ve pulled him into our search for the blade.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Olivia,” Reyna replied gently, though concern flickered in her voice. “Our journey to Wales was meant to uncover answers, and I am grateful that Osman can aid you in your quest. I hope that progress is being made.”
“Then we’ll go together,” I said, the decision breaking through like a beam of clarity. “We can’t sit here, waiting for news to trickle in while we’re shrouded in safety.”
A glimmer of relief softened her expression. “Truly? You’d do that?”
“Of course,” I said, my restlessness finally finding an outlet.
Reyna smiled. “And we’ll bring them food. They must be starving, working all hours without a proper break.”
“Oh, my god,” I breathed, realization dawning on me. “Why didn’t I think of that before? To bring them food…” Shame flickered through me as I realized how consumed I’d been by my concerns, oblivious to their relentless efforts.
“Let’s not waste any time then,” Reyna said, her voice gaining strength. “I’ll prepare the food. We’ll make it a feast to bolster their spirits.”
“Perfect,” I said, the thrill of action quickening my pulse. “And maybe we can help in other ways too. It’s about time we did more than wait.”
Our plans were nearly set when the faint rustle of silk on marble heralded Alina’s arrival. She swept into the room with an air of forced grace, her eyes bright with a spark of unbidden enthusiasm.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, clasping her hands together in a gesture that seemed part plea, part performance. “You’re going to the caves, aren’t you? Take me with you.”
I stiffened, exchanging a brief, strained glance with Reyna.
“Mother,” I said gently, though my patience frayed at the edges, “this isn’t an excursion. It’s dangerous, and we’ll be fine on our own.”
For a fleeting moment, disappointment flickered across her face, unguarded and raw. But before she could respond, Mathias strode into the room, his presence heavy and commanding, like a storm cloud darkening the horizon.
“Listen to your mother,” he said. “You’re heavy with child, Olivia. Your safety must come first.”
His words, though cloaked in concern, wrapped around me like chains. The warmth that once defined his gaze now seemed a veil for something colder, something darker.
“Mathias,” I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil roiling beneath the surface, “I’m aware of my condition, but I don’t need a bodyguard or protection.”
The memory of Balthazar’s son flashed in my mind, and the brutal moment of his death was seared into my consciousness. Mathias had called it justice, but the savagery of the act lingered like a shadow in my dreams, painting him in ominous shades of malice.
“Olivia, dear,” Mathias said, stepping closer, his hand raised as if to offer a benediction or perhaps to seize control. “Consider what you risk.”
Was his concern genuine, or did he savor the power he held over us all? The doubt gnawed at me, sharp and relentless, a weight I couldn’t cast off.
“I have considered it,” I said, summoning what was left of my resolve. “And I must go. Not just for myself, but for all of us.”
Mathias narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, and I wondered if I’d glimpsed the man’s true face behind the guise of benevolence. “You must take care.”
“Fine,” I relented, the word tasting like acid on my tongue. “My mother can come, but only for protection.”
A flicker of softness passed through my mother’s gaze as though I had granted her the world. But beneath my concession, resentment churned, simmering like a storm held barely in check.
The carriage rattled along the uneven path, its wheels clattering against stones as we left Mathias’ estate behind. Our bountiful food offering sat in a hand-woven wicker basket between Reyna and me, overflowing with colorful fruits, freshly baked bread, and savory dishes. My mother sat opposite me, her eyes sharp and vigilant as if scanning for unseen threats. I stared out the window, tracing the elaborate woodwork of the carriage door with my fingers, trying to ignore the growing tightness in my belly.
“Are you alright, Olivia?” Reyna asked, her voice tinged with concern.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, pressing one hand against my abdomen. “It’s just... discomfort.”
The lie fell flat even to my ears.
A sharp contraction tore through me, and I gasped, my free hand gripping the seat for support.
“Olivia,” my mother said, reaching out to steady me, her touch feather-light yet unwelcome. “You need to stay calm. Take deep breaths. Take a couple with me…”
She inhaled deeply, but I ignored her.
“Mom, I don’t.” My words were cut short as another contraction, fiercer than the last, wrenched through me. I clutched at the seat, panic rising alongside the pain.
“Olivia, this journey might not have been wise,” Reyna said, caution threading her usually serene tone. She exchanged a look with my mother, who bit her lip but remained silent.
“Stop,” I snapped, my frustration bleeding into my tone. I hadn’t meant for it to sound so sharp, but I refused to appear fragile. “I’m not a porcelain doll. We continue.”
Reyna nodded in reluctant agreement. My mother, however, glowered, her disapproval radiating in silence.
The carriage wheels crunched over gravel, the noise colliding with the muffled discomfort filling the interior. As we neared the caves, my mother’s voice rose.
“Olivia, your birth was much like this—rushed, unexpected, amidst the shadows of an ancient cave in Peru. Your father and I?—”
“Stop talking about the past. Stop talking about me!” I snapped, cutting through her reverie with impatience.
My discomfort mounted, each contraction a stark reminder of the present, of the imminent life I carried, not the one long since lived.
A heavy silence fell, the air thick with unspoken words and the moment’s weight. The carriage halted at the mouth of the caves. As we disembarked, Reyna offered me a steadying arm, which I reluctantly accepted. My feet found the uneven ground outside, and I noted how the air smelled of earth and sweat, the tang of men at work.
Ahead, the entrance yawned wide, a portal into darkness lined by the silhouettes of laborers chiseling away at history. Malik emerged from the shadows, his expression darkening when he saw us. His gaze landed on my mother first, and his jaw tightened.
“Why is she here?” he spat, jabbing a finger in her direction. Then his eyes shifted, flickering between Reyna and me. The incredulity on his face hardened into a scowl. “Why are Reyna and you here? You’re pregnant!”
I met his glare unflinching. “Malik, I?—”
A spasm of pain clenched at my midsection, more insistent than the last. My breath hitched as I doubled over, bracing my hands against the cool stone wall of the cave entrance.
“Olivia!” Reyna’s voice was sharp with concern, her urgency breaking through the haze of pain. She rushed to my side, her hands steadying me. “We’re going home!”
I shook my head, gasping as another contraction rippled through me.
“No,” I managed through gritted teeth. The thought of retreat, of abandoning this mission when we were so close, was unbearable.
Malik appeared beside us, looming like a dark storm cloud. His brow furrowed deeply, his frustration palpable.
“Get Roman!” he barked to one of the hired men nearby, who nodded before disappearing into the cave’s depths. “He can talk some sense into her! Olivia is so damn stubborn!”
As Malik turned back to me, his expression softened—a rare and unsettling vulnerability slipping through his gruff exterior. But his gaze didn’t linger on me. Instead, his eyes darted toward Reyna, holding something raw and unspoken. This flash of emotion on his face was disconcerting, as though he couldn’t contain it any longer. Why would Malik be drawn to Reyna? She was engaged, for heaven’s sake. Such feelings had no place here; they should be locked away, not displayed so openly, like a wound for all to see.
I tried to focus on steadying my breathing.
Roman’s voice echoed through the dim expanse of the cave, tinged with panic as he burst into view.
“Why did you come here?” His words tumbled out in a rush, each syllable etched with worry. “You and Reyna should be resting. Reyna has only begun to recover, and you, my love…”
His words trailed off as he hurried to my side.
I lifted my chin, meeting his concern with a determined stare, even as another contraction threatened to bend me double.
“We came to feed you,” I said, the simplicity of our gesture juxtaposed against the complexity of our current dilemma.
Beside me, Reyna stood resolute, her pale cheeks flushed with the effort to remain upright despite her healing wounds.
Protective instincts radiated off Roman like heat from a fire. “No! Go home!”
“Please,” I said, clutching his arm, feeling the tense coil of strength beneath his sleeve. “Just five minutes. I want to see the caves, see the progress.”
“Olivia...” He began, yet something in my gaze must have reached him because he faltered. “Fine, but only five minutes.”
It was a small victory, but it was enough to ease the tightness in my chest. Roman’s attention shifted to one of the workers, and I followed his gaze to see Osman and Reyna standing off to the side. They were carefully unpacking the baskets we’d brought, laying out our humble offering—lunch for the weary searchers—with quiet efficiency.
The sight warmed me, and despite everything, I felt a thread of connection to these people, this place, and the shared purpose that bound us together and drove us forward.
The air inside the cave was cool and damp, a vivid contrast to the oppressive heat outside. Roman led the way, his lantern casting jagged, ominous shadows on the uneven walls. Alina’s voice danced around us like the flutter of a curious bird, each question more eager than the last.
“Is this the same path you take every day?” she asked, her eyes wide with fascination and lingering frailty.
“Every day,” Roman said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare smile as he indulged her curiosity. “We have marked the safe routes with these symbols here.”
He gestured toward faint etchings carved into the cave wall.
I trailed behind them, watching their exchange. At first, I was content to listen, feeling a vicarious thrill through Alina’s wonder. But soon, the sameness of the conversation—the endless cycle of questions and answers—began to dull my senses. My mind wandered, restless for something beyond the reach of their chatter.
As I squinted through the darkness, a faint flicker caught my eye. It danced along the edge of my vision, a stray beam of light that seemed out of place in the pitch-black cave. Driven by an impulse I couldn’t quite explain, I veered off the marked path, letting the allure of the strange illumination guide me. The voices of Roman and Alina became a distant murmur, dissolving into the stillness that enveloped me as I ventured deeper.
The passage narrowed, then opened into a hidden chamber. The source of the light revealed itself—not a torch or lantern, but a crack in the cave ceiling where daylight seeped through. The golden light filtered down, cutting through the darkness with an ethereal glow that transformed the room. The space felt otherworldly, the soft illumination lending it an almost sacred intimacy.
“Interesting,” I murmured, my breath misting in the chilled air of the secluded chamber. An entrance yawned open from the opposite wall, beckoning me further into the earth’s shadowy embrace. Compelled by a strange mix of discovery—and perhaps a touch of rebellion—I crossed the threshold.
The passage led to another chamber, bathed in an impossible brilliance. Natural light poured in from some unseen source, filling the space with a serene, almost scared glow. I stood motionless, transfixed by the silence that seemed to ring louder than any sound, pressing against my eardrums with its weight.
“How odd,” I whispered, my words dissipating into the stillness like smoke. “It’s so quiet.”
As I stepped deeper into the chamber, my breath caught in my throat. Before me lay a pit, its depths alive with serpents; their scales shimmered in the ethereal light, shifting and writhing in a mesmerizing yet menacing dance. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat a primal echo of fear. My hand instinctively shot out to the wall, fingers grasping the handle of a lit torch carelessly propped against the cold stone.
The pit hissed and undulated with life, and every movement sent a wave of terror clawing up my spine. The air was heavy with the musk of reptiles and damp earth, the scent clinging to my nostrils and threatening to suffocate me.
“Child...” said a voice, ancient and sibilant, slithered through the chamber, weaving through the symphony of hisses and coils. It called to me, yet my body remained rooted in place, paralyzed by fear and awe.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze to find the source of the voice. An old man stood on the far side of the pit, leaning heavily on a twisted cane. His eyes held the weight of eons, and they locked onto mine with unsettling intensity. His short, wild hair jutted out in untamed spikes streaked with silver, hinting at a lifetime of unrestrained chaos. Round glasses, slightly askew, framed his piercing gray eyes, which glinted with a cold, calculating intelligence. His appearance was striking, like a raptor transformed by years into something more enigmatic and foreboding. And the way he moved…
A torrent of images surged through my mind, vivid and unrelenting, as though my memories were clawing their way back to me. The dank stone walls of a dungeon materialized. First, the clang of metal reverberated as a shadowed figure pounded on the bars of his prison, desperate for freedom.
Next, I ran—lungs burning with exertion, a blade gleaming in my hands. The Blade of Shadows, its edge dripping with power, pulsing with its thirst for conflict. I tore through an unrecognizable landscape, pursued by unseen assailants whose malicious shouts echoed like war cries.
Finally, a crown appeared, resplendent yet oppressive in its weight. It simmered before me, a tantalizing mirage always just beyond my grasp. I reached for it, but it dissolved into nothingness, leaving only its burden etched into my soul.
“Do you remember?” the old man asked, his voice a thread connecting me to these fragmented glimpses of another life—my past life.
Shaking, I clutched the torch like a lifeline, the heat of its flame grounding me back in the present, away from the phantoms of who I once was.
Ahead, the pit of snakes writhed with sinister purpose, their scales glinting like shards of malice under the eerie glow. My heart raced, a staccato rhythm of panic and defiance. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them as they slithered closer, their movements hypnotic and horrifying. A part of me burned with curiosity, drawn to their serpentine intent, but fear and dread coiled tightly within me. Should I stay and face them or run for my life?