Chapter 25 Julien
After so many lifetimes, this memory always remains, and in it, Sai is barely a man.
Just bones and fury, filth and shadows. A creature who’d been caged and forgotten. Who’d survived through sheer, merciless instinct.
Knowing who he is now, seeing what he’s become… it’s impossible to reconcile with what I saw that day.
A wisp. A ghost. A shadow.
A feral thing with too many teeth and no trust left in his body.
Jasmine wets her lips, food forgotten. “He said he fought you.”
I huff a bitter laugh, remembering the way his markings lit up—violent and bright—when he saw me through the dark veil, snarling like some cornered animal.
Even then, he was brave. Fierce. But he wasn’t free.
“He did. For hours. He clawed, bit, thrashed until his body gave out.” I hesitate, revealing this part of Sai’s story without him present feels like a violation.
“And though we looked nothing alike, I recognised my brother’s fire in him.
I stayed; he resisted. I spoke; he remained silent. I didn’t push.”
I could have dragged him out, but he would’ve shattered.
“Eventually, he exhausted himself, and when he finally stopped snarling, I reached for him again… and this time, he let me.”
But that was just the beginning.
“He didn’t trust me for years. Wouldn’t sleep near me, would flinch if I moved too fast, he’d growl through every meal, refused clothing, didn’t understand jokes or kindness.”
I glance at her, and for a moment, I regret saying so much, dragging Sai’s past into the light. But he doesn’t remember most of this, and she needs to hear it. He’ll want her to know everything.
He’ll want her to know how far he’s come.
“He didn’t know how to be a person anymore, so I taught him.”
I pick up her abandoned fork, break off more of the omelette, and lift it to her. Then I watch obsessively as her lips close around the tines.
We remain in silence as she chews, then swallows.
“What did life become then, Julien, with Sai?” she asks softly, her hopefulness transparent.
“In the beginning, it was hard. Ugly. He hated the sun, feared mirrors, he screamed in a broken language. But slowly, over the years, he came back to himself. Or maybe he built someone new from the ashes.”
I pause, the smile that tugs at my mouth faint but real. “And then, eventually, for the first time in a long time… we lived. With Sai, time became a pleasant blur.”
I smile softly, letting the fonder memories blur the carnage.
“Over decades, we learned together, explored together, indulged together. I always thought I preferred being alone, but I’d never enjoyed life as much as I did with Sai.”
I shake my head with a low, almost disbelieving laugh. “We were menaces.”
Her brows lift, and she leans in a little, mug in hand, curiosity in her gaze.
“We had no sense of consequence. Every bar we entered, we left in ruin. Every district we passed through, someone ended up injured, emotionally scarred, or madly in love with Sai.” I glance at her, notice the slight narrowing of her gaze, the harsh drip of her brows.
My lips quirk. “He had a habit of stealing hearts. Mostly in a literal sense.”
She chokes on her sip of coffee, and my smile grows.
These memories warm me, but like everything with Sai, it flickers between humour and danger.
“We were reckless, high on power and immortality, and for a long time, we believed we were untouchable.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’ve changed much…” she mumbles into her drink. But as she lowers it, I catch her wicked smirk.
I lift her freshly stacked fork that she tried to ignore, thought I’d forgotten. She rolls her eyes but accepts it.
Does she have any idea what her acceptance does to me? I don’t deserve it, but my darkness pulses each time she does.
“Then we met the brothers,” I say, and her irises darken.
“Over time, our names had… spread. Our games, our indulgences, angered some powerful beings. The Council were called upon to intervene, and they sent two enforcers to… persuade us.”
“What happened?” she blurts, eyes wider.
When I raise the fork again, she snatches it from me, takes a bite, then twirls it in the air, an impatient order to continue. I fight off another smile.
“We fought,” I explain simply, unembellished, letting the understatement hang.
My lips twitch as her mouth falls open. She quickly shuts it, but not before I catch something darker beneath her shock.
Intrigue.
As though she’s imagining it. The four of us together. Fighting.
And she likes it.
“That moment was the most alive I’d ever felt. It wasn’t just a fight, it was a battle between shadows. We matched each other blow for blow until we fell into the Dark Realm, together. And that’s when everything shifted.”
“Your darknesses called to one another,” she breathes, like she was there. Her voice urging my beast to pull her closer.
“Yes,” I murmur. “We heard each other.”
“And how did that go down?”
“There’s too much to say in one sitting but… Kane was adamant it was a lie.”
She huffs a laugh, smirking. She’s irresistible like this, unguarded.
“He blocked us out, refused to listen, he was furious. Sound somewhat familiar?” I smile.
She sighs, pressing a hand to her temple, smiling back sadly.
“But Sai and I, we were curious. I especially. I’d lived many centuries and never felt that kind of connection.
We decided to return with them to their district.
Sai mocked them endlessly at first, especially Ezekial—kept asking why he helped others when no one had ever helped them.
And Kane…” I chuckle softly. “Kane wanted nothing to do with us.”
Her brows furrow. “What changed?”
“Rumours. There were whispers from the Fae Realm of The Order, the Green Cloaks, returning. Something was happening there, something Sai couldn’t ignore.”
Her brows shoot up, mouth parting in shock. “How long ago was this?”
I study her, every flicker of emotion across her features is as captivating as the last. “Almost a hundred years.”
She nods, swallowing as she considers my words, then adds in a spluttered voice, “Sai—Sai—is over a hundred years old?”
I can’t decipher which piece of information shocks her more.
“Approximately one hundred and fifty, but he doesn’t remember his exact date of birth—”
She makes a choked noise, and I freeze, until I realise she’s not actually choking, just… stunned.
Her head shakes slowly, a curl swaying by her cheek, her brows drawn together as she stares past me. “I knew he was a hundred, I knew that, but he’s a hundred and fifty? There’s an and in his age?”
“From my estimates…”
“He could be even older? But—but how can someone that old be like… Sai?”
“Why is my age of no concern to you, but Sai’s…”
“Because it’s Sai,” she says immediately, causing a low laugh to rumble from me.
“He’s still relatively young for an immortal. Alas, Sai is an enigma.”
She presses her lips together and nods, exhaling a soft laugh, losing her deep frown as she tries to refocus.
“What were people saying about the Green Cloaks that made Sai take an interest?”
“That they, and certain high fae, were working together, trying to enforce a Purist regime by locking away dark faes… or worse.”
Her jaw tightens, eyes darkening as she wets her lips. “He wanted to go back, didn’t he?”
I nod. “We wouldn’t let him, of course. It led to a fight. He turned on us, fought all three of us, exhausting himself until we had no choice but to chain him in the Pit.”
Her breath catches and mine does too.
The image of Sai, so chaotic, so achingly fragile, bound by us sends a sharp pulse through our bond, through our blood.
“Ezekial and Kane didn’t understand the depth of Sai’s rage,” I continue. “And while it was never my story to tell… Sai was in no state to share it. I didn’t have the time to explain with words, so—foolishly—I showed them. All of it. Every memory.”
I see the understanding strike her, I know she’s remembering it now, Sai’s suffering.
“Their rage for him… it was immediate, immense,” I murmur. “Ezekial’s temper is infamous, but Kane’s…” I pause, thinking of that moment, of shadows swallowing him whole. “Kane is something else entirely. He wanted blood, bodies, vengeance.”
I recall how even Ezekial and I couldn’t ground Kane.
“His fury consumed him, nothing reached through, nothing worked. In the end, it was Sai who stopped him.”
Jasmine doesn’t move, but something in her breathing slows. Her lips part like she means to speak, but the words don’t come.
“We spent a long time in the Pit that night. The three of us, together,” I say quietly.
“Telling our stories, sharing our memories, putting them into the air, letting them fester in the Pit so they might stop rotting inside of us. It’s something I’ll never forget.
” It was the turning point in our relationship. “We made a vow that day.”
“Tell me,” she whispers.
“When the time is right, we’ll return, and turn the Fae Realm to ash.”
Her eyes meet mine, unflinching. “And I will come with you.”
Her vow hums in the air like a living, breathing thing. It coils around my bones, seeping into every part of me that still burns for justice. For revenge.
“Jasmine…”
Her eyes clash with mine, cardinal red, a live flame, a burning rage spiking the depths.
“Nimur,” she says, gaze never leaving mine, and I am bewitched by her. “I understand now.”
I exhale slowly. “Jasmine, this isn’t—”
“This isn’t what?” She leans forwards, coffee and food forgotten. She’s so much closer, if I tilted my head down just so… “Isn’t my fight? Isn’t my concern?”
My heart beats faster, not from her words, but from her. The fire in her eyes, her natural fierceness, her vicious possessiveness—I know it all too well.
When her darkness spikes out, filling the small space between us, all I want is to pull her closer.
I should tell her no. That she doesn’t understand the weight of the vow we made, the bodies it will leave in its wake. But as I hold her gaze, I remember what she said in the Pit.