“What do you mean?” I asked, my mind reeling. “How do you know so much? How do you know they won’t activate?”
My lantern cast long shadows across his face.
Osman’s uneasy movements stirred the dirt beneath his feet. His eyes evaded mine as he gazed at the scattered debris on the ground.
“There are these ancient scrolls,” he said, his voice low and wary. “They hold the key to activating the blades properly. My father and a group of men dedicated their lives to studying them, even before I was born. But many of them have since passed. If they were to fall into the wrong hands, it could spell disaster for us all.”
His statement hung between us, reinforcing what we already knew—We needed to find the dagger before anyone else did.
“Then we must ensure they end up in the right hands,” I said with newfound resolve. The search wasn’t just for power but to ensure the daggers didn’t get into the wrong hands. And I would see it through, for Malik, for myself, and for the ghosts that lingered in the shadows of our purpose.
“How did something so powerful come to be?” My question echoed off the jagged walls.
“These blades hold an extraordinary tale,” Osman said, “one that I learned when I was just a boy.”
He took a deep breath, his eyes distant as if lost in memories.
“It is believed that these blades were created during the first solar eclipse in the Ancient Uragit,” he said. “Legends speak of how the eclipse itself brought forth their existence but also brought about the destruction of Uragit. A new city or realm was formed in its place—Solaris.”
A faint glimmer of awe slid through his voice at the mention of this mythical city.
“But there are darker tales surrounding these blades as well,” he said. “Some believe that a thirst for power consumed those who wielded them and that their lust for control led to the downfall of Uragit. And yet, despite all the stories and legends, one thing remains certain—something significant happened during that solar eclipse.”
His expression darkened. “When my father and other scholars from Anatolia began to delve into the mysteries of Solaris, they were met with fierce resistance from the Timehunters. The Timehunters eradicated every last one of them, not allowing them to explore or understand why Solaris came to be. It was as if the Timehunters were guarding a powerful secret.”
A note of bitterness crept into his voice.
“My father, however, discovered something groundbreaking about Solaris,” Osman said. “But before he could share it with anyone, he was killed by the very people who claimed to protect our world—again, the Timehunters.”
His fists tightened, the pain of his loss raw in his expression.
“After my father’s death, I was left an orphan, forced to fend for myself on the streets. But then Reyna and her father showed me kindness, taking me in and caring for me. As we grew up together, I couldn’t help but fall deeply in love with her. Her father blessed us to marry, and Reyna became my everything—a strong and fierce woman who completed me. But now she has been taken from me, and if I don’t find her soon and bring her back to Anatolia, her father will surely seek my life.”
His voice trembled with emotion as he spoke of his beloved Reyna, his eyes clouded with pain and determination.
The blades were not just relics; they bore the scars of history, of lives destroyed by greed and the unquenchable thirst for power.
“I can only imagine,” I said, clapping a hand on Osman’s shoulder. The rough fabric of his tunic was damp with the night’s dew. “I promise we will look for her. Don’t lose hope. Hope is the last thing to die.”
Exhaustion gnawed at my muscles, an unwelcome companion whispering defeat. I turned back to face Osman and Malik. Their faces bore the same weariness that burdened my soul.
“We should regroup,” I said, my voice barely carrying over the hush that enveloped us, “and return with a larger crew. We need more hands, more eyes... This is bigger than we anticipated. With more men here, the faster we can find the blade.”
The agreement was wordless. Together, we retraced our path up the hill, the cave’s mouth disappearing from sight but never from our minds. Home beckoned with the promise of respite, however fleeting, from the daunting task ahead.
Our ascent toward the estate was quiet. Each of us was lost in thought as we navigated the uneven terrain. The night held a chill that seeped into my bones, and overhead, the stars were obscured by a blanket of clouds, ominous and foreboding.
Malik’s silhouette was drawn tight against the dark, like a bowstring pulled to its limit. “Balthazar is in the dungeon, yet I’m more worried by those not imprisoned.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the gaping mouth of the caverns, their deep recesses shrouded in darkness like the maw of some colossal beast. There was no disagreeing with him. We were out of our depth, and remembering Balthazar’s imprisonment only added weight to our failure.
I placed a hand on Malik’s shoulder, trying to exude a calm I didn’t quite possess. “We’ll figure this out,” I reassured him. He clenched his fists and glared at me, his eyes blazing with anger like sparks from flint. “You don’t know what it’s like to be used, Roman,” he spat out through gritted teeth. “I was kept in the dark. Mathias told me he saved me and gave me Rosie. It’s not right. It’s all lies.”
His pain was a raw wound exposed to the biting air.
“Don’t worry, I’m here with you. Don’t panic,” I said, though the hollowness of my promises rang in my ears. We were all adrift, clutching at straws in hopes of finding solid ground.
We trudged back in silence, the estate coming into view through the mist. Its windows were dark, save for a few that spilled warm light onto the dewy grass. Once we crossed the threshold, Alina awaited us there, her presence an unwanted stain on the night.
