I couldn’t remain silent any longer. Stepping forward, I met Balthazar’s furious gaze with one of my own.
“Everything Zara did with Mathias was for you, Balthazar. She sacrificed herself for you. And you turned your back on her.”
The weight of the truth hung heavy in the room, laden with sorrow for the years lost to betrayal and vengeance. Zara tried to speak, her lips parting, but the words caught in her throat. Tears streaked down her face as she choked on her anguish.
“I can’t do it! I can’t get the words out,” she cried, her hands clenched into fists.
“I’ll tell him,” I said, stepping closer to Balthazar. His breathing was ragged, his wild eyes flickering between rage and confusion. “The only reason Zara slept with Mathias—one time, not continuously as you’ve imagined—was to uncover the truth.”
Balthazar’s chest heaved, his fists tightening at his sides. I pressed on, my voice steady.
“You were right about Mathias. He killed your family. He sent the Timehunters to destroy everything you loved. In the middle of his pleasure, Mathias confessed it to Zara.”
The sound that erupted from Balthazar was primal, a guttural howl rattling the room’s very walls. His body trembled with unrestrained fury.
“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” His voice was a storm, his eyes blazing with rage and betrayal. “All those times in his stupid, sanctimonious school, preaching about only killing bad people—it was all a ploy. It was a manipulation to make me believe he was some savior. But I see him now. For what he truly is. He’ll pay for what he’s done. They all will. I’ll make sure anyone who stood by and let this happen—they suffer for betraying me!”
His rage was unbound, a beast clawing into the dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight seemed to waver with the intensity of his fury, and for a moment, the hope of redemption flickered dangerously close to extinguishment.
“But you will not touch Olivia,” Zara said, her voice steady, cutting through the tempest of his anger. Her tone carried a resolute authority, her tear-streaked face now calm. “You and she share a history that even your fractured mind cannot erase or ignore.”
Balthazar froze, his hands clawing at his temples as though trying to unearth memories buried deep within him physically. His frame quivered under the weight of the unspoken truth.
“This is preposterous!” he growled, his voice laced with frustration. “How can I not remember something so important?”
“It’s part of the curse placed when the blades were separated,” I explained, my gaze fixed on him, willing him to see the truth. “I hope that you and Olivia will soon remember who you truly are. Only then can we stand stronger in our war against Salvatore.”
The room seemed to contract under the weight of those words.
Balthazar turned to Zara, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Tell me, how did you cheat death? I saw you crumple, lifeless, like a corpse. I held your cold body in my arms.”
His eyes darted over her as if searching for any sign of deception.
“Lazarus, the Shadow Lord,” she said calmly. “He saved me. Just as he saved our beloved Freya in the snow centuries ago.”
Balthazar lurched upright, disbelief etched across his features. “My baby… Freya… she’s alive?”
The hope that ignited in his eyes was raw and untamed, almost childlike in its purity.
“Yes,” Zara said with a steely glint in her eyes. “But she’s all grown up now. And she’s betrayed us. She’s become an ally to the other side.” Zara’s voice faltered for a moment before she pressed on. “All of our other daughters… they’ve perished. Their lifeless bodies remain as haunting reminders of our failures. Our last hope is up to the blades to restore their lives and bring them back from the dead.”
A flicker of realization passed across Balthazar’s face, and his shoulders sagged under the weight of this revelation. “That’s why I’ve been after the blades,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “That’s why I’ve been pursuing Olivia so relentlessly. It wasn’t just for vengeance on Alina and Mathias. It was because she was hunting for them, too. The journal was a crucial piece in finding the blades.”
His resolve hardened like iron, a determined light replacing the shadows of his burning desire for revenge.
“No more going after Olivia,” Zara said firmly, stepping closer. “You’re supposed to be her protector. That was your duty from the start. You’ve lost sight of that, but it’s time to remember who you are, Balthazar.”
“Protect Olivia? Preposterous.” His hands flailed as if trying to swat Zara’s words away like bothersome flies. “And who are these people? Who is Lazarus? Salvatore?” Confusion laced his questions, his voice rising to a crescendo of frustration.
My heart grew heavy with sympathy for the man grappling with phantoms of a past just out of reach.
Zara stepped forward and slapped him, the sound echoing sharply in the small chamber. “Violence is the only way to get through to you. You must wake up and remember!”
“Stop hitting me,” Balthazar growled, rubbing his cheek, yet there was a glint of something new in his eyes—perhaps recognition or the dawning of understanding.
I stood silently, observing the scene unfold. With a resigned sigh, I finally turned toward the doorway, prepared to leave them to reconcile their fractured history.
But Balthazar’s voice stopped me. He turned to Zara, his expression softening into something raw and unguarded—a look of profound relief as if her presence was a miracle he scarcely believed.
