I pierced the warrior’s chest with a final, decisive thrust of my sword. His lifeblood spilled onto the sand, joining the dark stains that told tales of countless battles before ours.
I knew our love had forged an indomitable force in the hush that followed. Together, against all odds, we had triumphed.
But even as relief surged through me, the sight of dark veins spreading from Olivia’s wound sent a cold dread racing through my heart. Our fight for survival was far from over.
I knelt beside Olivia, my fingers shaking as I traced the poisoned line marring her arm. The veins around the shallow gash pulsed with an unnatural blackness, spreading like tendrils under her skin. Panic clawed at my chest, yet the steady pressure of her hand in mine anchored me to the moment.
“Stay with me,” I said, my voice hoarse.
She nodded, her eyes fierce with a determination that belied the pallor of her face. But as her eyelids fluttered closed, panic clutched my soul.
A suffocating sense of dread gripped my heart as I watched her, knowing she might be slipping away before my very eyes. Terror tightened its grip on my throat as I realized the possibility of losing Olivia forever.
“We need an antidote,” I said, more to myself than to her. The truth of our predicament hung heavy in the air. We had bested death in its cruelest form, but it lingered, biding its time within Olivia’s veins.
My eyes were drawn upward to the looming balconies, where dark figures hovered like sinister specters, their silhouettes stark against the pulsing glow of torchlight. We were at the mercy of these orchestrators of terror, their every whim determining whether we would live or die. Our fates were tightly bound to their cruel games.
Desperation laced Olivia’s trembling voice as she pleaded with the shadowy figures above. Her hand clutched mine so tightly it felt like my bones might grind to dust.
In a single, fluid motion, I drew my blade and severed the rope that bound us, the sharp edge flashing as it cut through the coarse fibers with a satisfying snap. I vaulted over the barrier, my boots hitting the sand with a resounding thud that echoed through the cavernous space. My eyes locked onto Pasha Hassan, perched smugly on his ornate throne, a king presiding over a pit of blood and despair.
“Save her,” I demanded, my voice ragged but resolute. “I have fought and won.”
Pasha Hassan’s laugh was like gravel scratching across my soul. “She shouldn’t have let her emotions get in the way. She’s dying due to her stupidity.”
His words ignited a fire within me, a blaze fueled by every injustice Olivia and I had endured since being thrust into this nightmare.
In a single motion, I scaled the wall separating us from our tormentor. Pasha Hassan’s eyes widened as I stormed toward him, his smug confidence faltering. Before he could react, my hand closed around his throat with the precision born of countless battles and survival instincts.
“I have proven to you that I am a fucking Timehunter,” I hissed, squeezing just enough to drive my point home without ending him—yet. “Now, heal my wife.”
“You still must win the final challenge,” he rasped, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Your wife will survive until then. But I’ll make a deal with you. If you win the final test, I will heal her.”
“Deal?” My grip slackened as despair threatened to creep into my resolve. “What kind of sick fuck makes a deal when I’m faced with losing my wife to poison?”
“Oh, well.” Pasha Hassan’s indifference cut deeper than any blade. “You should hurry to your next challenge, then. The Executioner has never lost a fight.”
“I have fought every kind of person and beast,” I spat back, defiance surging through my veins despite the odds.
“We shall see,” he replied, his smirk unwavering.
“I will kill you,” I said, “after I kill the Executioner.”
“Bold words.” Pasha Hassan straightened his robes, his composure unshaken by my threat. “You will face the most powerful warrior in all the lands. If you win, I will keep my word. You will have your children back, and you will have the blades back.”
My brow furrowed, confusion etching itself into the lines of my face. Why would he offer to return the blades? Didn’t he crave their power for himself, to wield with unparalleled might? Questions clawed at my mind, suspicions forming a labyrinth of tangled thoughts and emotions.
My heart pounded, adrenaline and fury coursing through me. The stakes had never been higher, but I refused to falter. I would conquer this final challenge or die trying for Olivia, our children, and the life we yearned to reclaim.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
ROMAN
Istood in the dim corridor outside the arena where the Duel of Fates was held. My heart hammered against the confines of my chest as I watched the black-clad warriors carry my wife away. The limp form of Olivia, my beloved, draped like a pallid cloth over the outstretched arms of silent guards. Her once vibrant eyes were closed, her skin an unnatural shade that spoke of the poison’s kiss—its treacherous work coursing through her veins.
“Olivia!” Her name tore from my throat, raw and desperate, echoing in the oppressive silence of the stone walls. My legs threatened to buckle, but the weight of her suffering kept me upright. My hands trembled with the futility of my situation. The memory of her pain, the way her body writhed as the venom coursed through her veins, clawed at my mind. I had faced death before—on blood-soaked sands, in battles that left my blade stained and my soul scarred. I had crossed swords with Marcus in the Colosseum, clashed with Marcellious, and stood against impossible odds. Yet nothing compared to this. This wasn’t just survival; this was my family, my Olivia, my world slipping through my fingers.
“Let me see Rosie! Let me see my baby girl!” I pleaded with the guards encircling me. Their faces remained impassive, emotionless masks betraying no hint of compassion.
