CHAPTER NINETEEN
ROMAN
A s I tightened the final strap on my horse’s saddle, the moon climbed higher into the night, casting a cool, silver glow over Mathias’ estate. Soon, our friends would harness its lunar influence to traverse into the future. Silently, I wished them safe passage.
The leather creaked under my hurried grip, a protest against my urgency. Time, however, was a luxury I couldn’t afford. A shadow stirred in the periphery, gradually solidifying into Lee, his strides purposeful and heavy with intent.
“We’re heading to the caves,” he called out, his voice tinged with caution that mirrored my unease. “I want to be away from this place before we time travel. I don’t trust the vipers inside to let us leave unscathed.”
I nodded, securing the saddlebag with a sharp tug. “I’m heading to the caves, but I must move swiftly. I’m afraid I won’t join you as you plod along with the wagon.”
I glanced toward the darkened windows of the estate, feeling the weight of unseen eyes upon us. “But Lee…” My voice caught in my throat, emotion overflowing and making speaking difficult.
“What?” Lee’s eyes searched mine, concern etched in his features.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Safe travels,” I finally managed to say.
Lee’s face softened, his usual tough demeanor giving way to a gentler expression. Our gazes locked as we shared a moment of understanding and appreciation for each other. “You, too, my friend. Stay safe,” he replied.
We embraced, the weight of our impending separation heavy on our hearts. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as we pulled apart, and I could see that Lee was also fighting back emotion. Our friendship had never been more evident than in this tender embrace.
“What will you do with the wagon when you time travel?” I asked, genuinely curious about his plans for the cumbersome vehicle.
“The men in the caves can use it,” Lee replied with a dismissive wave. “Mathias insisted they have another means of transportation. They won’t notice our departure—we’ll leave outside the caverns. They’re used to us coming and going.”
“Right,” I murmured, my mind already leaping ahead to the tasks awaiting me.
Together, we walked out into the open yard bathed in silver moonlight, the gravel crunching beneath our boots. I led my horse by the reins, her breath visible in the chill night air as Lee kept pace beside me. Reaching the wagon, I peered into its shadowed interior, where Marcellious lay in a fragile state, pallor painting his once robust features. Emily sat beside him, cradling their baby, her eyes reflecting the fear and hope that battled within her.
“Marcellious,” I said softly, climbing into the back of the wagon.
My brother’s eyelids fluttered, revealing the glassy sheen of pain beneath. Crouching beside him, I took his hand, its coolness sending a shiver up my spine.
“I will miss you,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I was too consumed with caring for and protecting my wife. Lee will take care of you in the future.”
A tear slipped down my cheek as I pressed my brother’s hand, carving a warm path through the grime of the day’s worries. I hoped against hope that the journey ahead would grant him the medical attention he needed, and that the future would be kinder than the past.
“Miss Emily,” I said, acknowledging her respectfully. “Safe passage. Be good to your man.”
Emily sniffled quietly in response.
With one last look at the faces that had become an important part of my world, I stepped away from the wagon. My horse nickered, sensing the urgency of our departure, and together, we set off into the night—toward the unknown that awaited us at the caves.
As I galloped toward the caves, the steady rhythm of hooves pounding against the earth mirrored the chaos in my mind. The moon’s pale light spilled over the path, guiding me through the darkness.
The men toiled relentlessly in the damp, musty air inside the caves. Their frustrated grunts and muffled curses echoed off the stone walls as they chased shadows, following leads I had intentionally misdirected. They would never find what they sought. The elusive moon dagger was already ours, hidden where no prying eyes or greedy hands could reach it.
The cave walls rose around us like silent sentinels, their rough, glistening surfaces seeming to hold their breath, waiting for a discovery that would never come. I gave the workers their final instructions; my voice was calm yet resonant against the oppressive quiet. Sweat streaked their faces, their dedication evident in every weary movement. I offered them my thanks, expressing gratitude for their unwavering efforts. The silence, broken only by the occasional drip of water from stalactites, felt timeless as if the cave existed outside the bounds of the world above.
Leaving the dimly lit caverns behind, I strode toward the entrance, eager to reunite with Olivia. But as I reached the hill leading back to the estate, the horizon burned with an ominous orange glow. Dread twisted in my gut.
Malik emerged at the crest of the hill, his silhouette framed by the fiery backdrop. He sat astride his steed, a dark figure against the flames.
“Malik! I told you to stay with Olivia!” I shouted, my voice thick with disapproval.
“I know, my brother,” he called back, urgency lacing his tone. “I had to feed. I dispatched someone quickly into the woods and regained my strength. I’ll ride back with you.”
Before I could voice my frustration, my eyes locked onto the inferno consuming Mathias’ estate. Flames licked hungrily at the sky, devouring the grand structure like a beast unleashed. Panic gripped me, my blood running ice-cold.
“My god—my wife, my baby!” I screamed, spurring my horse forward in frantic desperation.
“Rosie!” Malik’s cry knifed through the air, tethered to a name that meant everything to him.
We charged toward the estate, the fire swelling into a monstrous inferno, devouring everything in its path. The horses screamed, sensing the danger, but we urged them forward, driving them to their limits until we reached the roaring blaze.
Dismounting in a flurry, we tied scarves around our mouths, bracing ourselves for the smoke and cinders. The house was a living beast, its fiery jaws open wide, consuming everything I held dear. Without hesitation, we plunged into the part of the manor not yet claimed by the fire, my eyes scanning desperately, my heart pleading for a sign of life amidst the chaos.
“Olivia!” I screamed, my voice barely cutting through the crackling fury around us. The oppressive heat pressed down like a vice, every breath searing my lungs as if the air burned.
“Rosie!” Malik called out, his voice carrying the same desperation. He moved ahead of me with the grace of a predator, even amid destruction.
No answers came, only the relentless howl of the fire. There was no trace of Olivia’s laughter, no sound of my baby’s cries, no sign of Rosie’s gentle presence—only silence and smoke.
We stumbled upon a horrific scene—bodies of maids, their uniforms charred, lives stolen too soon. Malik clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with grief and fury.
The house groaned and trembled, a behemoth in its death throes, ready to collapse and take its secrets to the ashes.
“Olivia!” I shouted again, my voice raw and ragged, a plea carved from the depths of my soul.
Malik pushed forward, room by room, relentless, his voice hoarse from calling Rosie’s name repeatedly—a prayer, a demand, a cry.
But there was nothing. No one. Only fire, death, and the bitter taste of despair.
“Maybe they’re in the dungeon,” I said suddenly, the thought cutting through the suffocating smoke and grief.
Malik nodded, his eyes reflecting the frantic hope surging through us both. Together, we stumbled toward the stairwell leading down to the bowels of Mathias’ estate. The heat began to abate as we descended, but the thick and suffocating darkness closed in around us.
The dungeon loomed before us, its iron gates ajar, gaping like the maw of a great beast. We swept inside, our steps hurried and hearts pounding.
Raul’s lifeless body lay in gruesome disarray across the stone floor, his severed limbs scattered like discarded remnants of a broken man. Deep gashes carved through flesh and bone, his torso split open in grotesque butchery. But the most harrowing sight was the absence of his manhood—cut away with merciless precision—a final, humiliating punishment. Every jagged wound stood as a brutal testament to Balthazar’s unrelenting savagery.
“Balthazar is gone,” I choked out, the realization freezing the blood in my veins. He had vanished, leaving behind only destruction and death.
Malik’s expression hardened. “We have to find the others.”
We raced back upstairs, dread weighing heavily on every step. The house groaned and wailed around us, timbers snapping and splintering under the fiery onslaught.
Then, a faint cry pierced through the cacophony: “Help me! Someone, help me!”
The voice came from the library.
“Osman!”
As I approached the library, creaking wood and shattering glass filled the air. The heavy wooden door hung askew, barely clinging to its frame, one hinge broken. Through the gap, I saw Osman lying on the floor, his lower body pinned beneath a massive beam. His face twisted in pain, every attempt to move etched with pure agony.
“Roman...” His voice was weak. “I won’t make it. Go! Protect your family. Protect my Reyna.”
“No!” I dropped to my knees at his side, coughing as smoke clawed at my throat. My hands shook as I grasped the timber, desperate to lift it. But when I heaved, Osman screamed—a sound so raw and visceral it tore through the chaos around us.
“It’s too late for me, Roman!” he rasped, his words final, a sentence I refused to accept.
“Damn it, Osman, I won’t let you die!” My voice was fierce, defiant, a command hurled at the encroaching inevitability of death. I braced myself again, muscles straining against the weight, my world reduced to the task.
The fire roared closer, flames devouring the room with insatiable hunger. Smoke blurred my vision, but I refused to look away from Osman. His once strong, commanding voice had faded to a faint whisper, resignation shadowing his features. The light in his eyes flickered, a flame on the verge of extinction.
“I’m beyond saving,” he gasped, blood bubbling at the corners of his lips. “The fire will consume me, and death’s icy grip tightens around my heart. But you must flee this cursed place. Seek out Pasha Hassan in Anatolia. He holds the key to the blades’ history... Only he can guide you on this perilous path.”
His voice faded into a guttural rasp, each word laced with an urgency that demanded to be heeded.
The weight of his plea struck me harder than the sweltering heat enveloping us. “No, Osman, I won’t let you die,” I cried out, shielding my face from the encroaching flames with my arm.
“Roman, save yourself,” he whispered, the light in his eyes dimming. “I am grateful for our time together. It was an honor to meet you.” Though meant as solace, his words felt like knives against my soul. There was no honor in abandoning a man to die amidst the ruins of a demon’s home.
Above us, the ceiling groaned ominously, a harbinger of imminent collapse. I hesitated, caught between the impossible’s pull and the inevitable’s weight. My survival instinct surged at that moment, overpowering my defiance of fate. I lunged backward as burning timbers crashed where I had been seconds before. The debris fell upon Osman, silencing his final cry in a devastating instant. For a moment, I stood frozen, staring at the motionless silhouette of a man who had fought until his last breath. The image seared into my mind, an indelible mark of guilt and sorrow. With a heavy heart, I turned away, each step weighted with the unbearable truth of what I was leaving behind.
“Olivia!” I called hoarsely, my voice frayed and raw. Panic clawed at my chest, relentless and savage, as the fear of losing her and our child consumed me. Room by room, I searched, but hope withered with each space, flickering like the final embers of a dying flame.
Up ahead, Malik emerged from the haze, a dark silhouette against the inferno’s backdrop. His expression mirrored my own—a blend of desperation and unspoken terror.
Without words, we understood each other. We were kindred souls amidst the chaos, clinging to the fragile hope that those we loved had escaped the fire’s merciless wrath.
“Help me find her!” I yelled, my voice cracking under the strain.
We navigated the smoldering maze together, shouting names swallowed by the roaring inferno. The foundation shuddered violently beneath us, a dire warning that the end was near. It was a choice between fleeing or perishing.
“Go!” Malik shouted, gripping my arm with a strength born of desperation.
We raced toward the exit, the fiery glow casting elongated shadows ahead of us as if even they sought escape. The ground trembled beneath our feet, and with a deafening roar, the house gave way, collapsing into a smoldering heap of ruin and ash.
We staggered to a safe distance, breathless and beaten, watching the once-grand estate crumble into nothingness. The air was thick with smoke, stinging our lungs and coating our mouths with the acrid taste of despair.
“Olivia,” I whispered, the name breaking from my lips like a prayer. My heart clenched painfully. She was my world, my soul. And our baby—where were they in this hour of devastation?
Malik stood silently beside me, his eyes reflecting the sorrow deeply on my face. His presence was not a comfort but a shared acknowledgment of the grief and dread that clung to us like the smoke swirling in the night.
Ashes danced on the wind, cruel specters of what had been illuminated by the cold silver of the moon. The bitter stench of charred memories hung heavy in the air. Malik and I stood among the ruins, two helpless figures in a scene of unspeakable loss.
Silence reigned where life had once thrived. Balthazar had vanished into the chaos, leaving only betrayal in his wake. And Raul—his mangled, lifeless body—remained a grim testament to the horrors unleashed. The sight gnawed at my soul.
Malik’s face mirrored my horror, etched with lines of grief, disbelief, and quiet rage.
“I don’t know what to do.” His voice sounded hollow against the backdrop of destruction. “How did this happen? Is it déjà vu?”
“What do you mean?” My words came out more as a demand than a question, fueled by the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.
Malik’s eyes, rimmed red and hollow, locked onto mine as we stood in the shadowed stillness of the abandoned farmhouse. The air between us felt thick, weighted with memories neither wanted to confront. His voice dropped to a whisper, raw with emotion. “Do you remember your past lives as Isabelle and Armand? The fire that destroyed everything?”
His voice cracked, splintered by the unbearable pain of centuries past.
A shiver of unease coiled through my body, tightening like a noose.
“I don’t want to think about the past,” I snapped, pushing away the unwelcome intrusion of lives long gone. “We must focus on finding Olivia, Reyna, Rosie, and Luna.”
Even as the words left my lips, my heart sank, weighted by a sea of doubt swirling inside me. It was as if my resolve was a fragile ship battered by waves of uncertainty.
With every step, the world’s weight pressed heavier on my shoulders. The ground beneath me was a graveyard of ash and ruin, the smoldering remnants of a monster’s domain. The cold gnawed at my bones, though I wasn’t sure if it was the chill of the air or the relentless grip of dread tightening its hold on me. I pushed forward, Olivia’s name echoing like a desperate mantra in my mind. She and our baby had to be out there. Somewhere. Waiting for me. But with every passing moment, the fear inside me grew, gnawing at the fragile hope that kept me moving. My dear Olivia… my little Luna… where are you?