But that name had haunted me like a ghost. “John James” had become more myth than man, a phantom hiding in the shadows ofevery lead I followed. I found many who bore the name—a butcher with bloodstained hands, a charming rogue who dared flirt with me despite my swollen belly, a tired farmer, a miserly banker. Yet none wastheJohn James. The one Malik had spoken of.
Doubt began to fester, creeping into the fractures of my resolve. What if Malik had sent me on a fool’s errand? What if this was his revenge—to leave me wandering in circles, drunk on desperation and choking on hope? I had tortured him, after all. Perhaps this was his quiet, final strike.
And maybe... I deserved it.
Still, the hardest part of this journey wasn’t the pursuit of John James. It was the growing resentment I felt toward Philip.
Everything about him grated on me now—the way he breathed too loudly, the clumsy way he touched me, even the way he smiled when he thought I needed comfort. I was tired of playing house and pretending we were in love. The charade had grown unbearable, and worse, it had begun to feel like I was the one being played.
Something was off. Deeply off.
When I’d asked for his help finding John James, he hadn’t questioned it, but his silence had said more than his words ever could. His brow had furrowed, his expression unreadable as he mulled over my request. “We’ll find him, don’t worry,” he’d said with a reassuring smile.
But I didn’t believe him.
There was a weight to his silence, a quiet calculation I couldn’t unsee. I told him only what I had to—never the full truth or about the daggers or what they meant. But still, I wondered… Did he know more than he let on?
Seven months. Seven months of pretending this child growing inside me was his. Of lying every day, knowing full well that the moment it was conceived, I felt Balthazar’s darkness settle deep in my womb. It was his.
And yet I stayed.
Not for love. Not even for safety. But because solitude, the kind that stripped your soul bare, would have destroyed me.
Still, something bothered me—something worse than the lies, the secrets, the dread. A shadowed suspicion that everyone was using me. That I wasn’t just a fugitive or a seeker—I was a pawn ina game far more twisted than I understood. The careful steps I took, the guarded words I spoke… they felt rehearsed, expected.
It was as if I were moving along a script someone else wrote.
A plan was unfolding around me—I could feel it in the air, in the tremble of fate itself. And whatever force was pulling the strings... I was done being its puppet.
It felt like Karma. The same cruel Karma that had ripped my family from me, branding me with loss. The same vindictive force that made me a target for abuse, for betrayal, for twisted love that came with blades beneath kisses. The same Karma that had lured Zara into my path and laughed as she tore me apart.
My thoughts kept circling back to Malik. That bastard. Had he sent me on this wild chase knowing it would lead to nothing? Knowing I’d unravel chasing shadows?
Still, doubt could not outweigh determination. My resolve was sharpened into a weapon. Iwouldfind the man who held the key. Iwouldunearth the Sun and Moon Daggers. Iwouldcast a deep shadow across this world so that even the stars would cower.
And I would do it alone.
The notion propelled me forward. I would escape out of this nightmare, through blood, flame, and betrayal, if it meant rising again with the power I’d been denied my entire life.
Golden sunlight spilled through the window, catching on dust motes that danced like ghosts. I’d been lying there for hours, trapped in the echo chamber of my regrets. The warmth on my skin was comforting... but it also mocked me. Time was slipping away, and I was still here.
A tremor of emotion overtook me, and I whispered into the silence, “Balthazar… I love you. Maybe… maybe it was a mistake leaving you.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them—raw, real. Not a spell. Not a performance. Just the broken truth bleeding from my soul.
Hot, salty tears rolled down my cheeks like molten lava, searing paths of pain across my skin. My obsession with power had driven me into the abyss. And now, I wasn’t sure there was any way back.
Then it hit.
A sudden pain that made me double over.
I cried out, clutching my belly as the pressure wrapped around me like a vice. I could barely breathe.
The contraction passed, only to be followed by another.
And another.
My breath came in ragged gasps. Panic flared in my chest. Not now. Not here.
