And then he was gone.
Just like that. As if he had never truly been there at all.
I stood in stunned silence, wrapped in a strange mix of longing and something darker—something raw and primal. There was a pull to him, an enigma threaded through every glance, every word. I didn’t just want to understand him. I ached tounravelhim. To know what made him more intoxicating than Balthazar and more dangerous than Raul.
I lingered at the city’s edge for days, a shadow among the living, scavenging crumbs from taverns and back-alley cafés. Hungergnawed at my ribs, but worse was the sting of the words that followed me through the streets.
“She left him without a word. Didn’t even take the babe,” an ancille whispered one morning, her voice thick with scorn as the maids gathered in the courtyard to exchange gossip like coins.
“Lord Costa’s orders are clear,” another chimed in, “if we so much asseeher, we’re to report it at once.”
They delighted in my fall from grace.
“She fooled him, that one. Had Lord Costa doting like a lovesick fool. All those gifts, all that praise. But she was never more than a common whore in silk.”
Their words pierced me like glass—sharp, cold, and unforgiving. But I was too hollow to bleed. I had no strength left to fight back. Not yet. I had one purpose now—find Malik.
And so, beneath the pale, watchful eye of the full moon—starved of food, stripped of sleep, with nothing left but fractured hope and sheer will—I clutched the dagger and tore through time, landing in Britannica, 1323.
To the edge of fate.
I wandered the crooked streets, asking everyone I passed if they knew Malik. Most flinched at the name and turned away, muttering under their breath. One man, emboldened by lust and perhaps imagining I’d repay him with flesh, offered an address. I took it with forced gratitude, declined his advances, and disappeared into the shadows.
Malik’s manor loomed like a phantom from another life. Perched atop a lonely hill, it stood sentinel over the countryside, its stone walls weathered by centuries and secrets. Wind whipped around me violently, as if the earth was warning me to turn back. The trees rustled above, their skeletal branches swaying like silent witnesses.
Each step up the path echoed in the night, the sound hollow and final. I raised the heavy knocker at the door and let it fallonce. The metallic slam rang out, clear and decisive.
The door creaked open.
Malik stood before me, his face carved with fury, shadows clinging to his sharp features like old scars. The tension between us coiled instantly, thick as smoke.
“What are you doing here, Alina?” he growled. “How did you find me?”
“I… I followed the dagger,” I stammered, caught off guard by the venom in his voice. “I discovered the Sun Dagger.”
His eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t matter. I no longer care about the dagger.”
He began to shut the door, but I shoved my foot forward, jamming it in the frame. The pain shot up my leg, but I held firm.
“Please, Malik,” I pleaded, breath hitching. “Don’t cast me aside so easily. I left Balthazar long ago.”
“Don’t youdaresay that monster’s name in my presence!” he spat, storming out and slamming the door behind him.
My chest ached. “What happened to you, Malik? Why this hatred? The last time we spoke… we were still friends.”
He turned, voice quiet and deadly.
“The last time you saw me,” he said, each word a dagger drawn across my skin, “I was chained to a wall—starved, beaten, bleeding beneath the whip ofyourmaster. And you? You stood there. Youwatched. Then I watchedherdie—my true love—while you and Balthazar laughed like it was a fucking game.”
“It wasn’t like that. I swear!” The words crumbled in my throat, landing between us like rotting leaves.
My hands trembled as I reached into my coat and pulled out my journal. I clutched it against my chest, a shield of paper and ink, then forced myself to hold it out to him.
“Take it,” I said, voice shaking but still firm. “It’s everything. Everything I’ve survived. Everything I’ve done.”
Malik threw up his hands in disgust. “Why the hell would I want that? What am I supposed to do with it? I don’t give a damn about your sob story.”
“Read it,” I snapped, the desperation spilling out now. “Please, just read it. It holds the truth. My truths. I want you to protect it.”
