He paused, his voice softening as he continued. “The Timebounds served as the Timebornes’ most trusted allies—steadfast companions who accompanied them on missions and cases, providing support and strategy when the path was perilous. And then there were the Timehealers,” he said, his tone carrying an almost reverent admiration. “These remarkable individuals specialized in using Solaris’ unique flora, crafting healing potions and antidotes that could mend not only physical wounds but also the fractures left behind by time.”
As he spoke, I envisioned these revered beings, their hands deft as they mixed elixirs, their knowledge vast as the stars above. They were the menders of broken timelines, weavers of second chances.
“The darkness’ biggest role in Solaris was to protect Timebornes and Timebounds at all costs,” Pasha Hassan continued, his tone edged with pride and sorrow. “They were professional, skilled assassins—warriors who eliminated evil, shielded the kingdom, and defended the realm against those who dared to defy its laws.”
I imagined these silent guardians, shrouded in mystery, their loyalty as unyielding as iron. They were the unseen force, the shield against the tide of time that threatened to sweep us all into oblivion. Their existence was both a promise and a warning, a delicate balance that preserved the sanctity of the realm.
As the weight of his words settled, I began to understand the gravity of what we faced—the delicate dance between light and shadow, past and present, memory and oblivion.
“But what of Salvatore? What happened to him?” Roman asked, his voice laced with an urgency that mirrored the pulsing of my own heart.
Pasha Hassan exhaled deeply, his gaze dropping to the richly woven rug under our feet. “Beneath the surface, Salvatore’s malevolent influence grew. He despised the bond between the darknesses and the Timebornes. It enraged him to see the darknesses protecting and even loving their Timeborne counterparts when his vision was chaos, destruction, and domination.”
He paused, his expression darkening as the tale unfolded. “Many darknesses fell in love with Timebornes, and their unions brought forth the Timebounds. Salvatore saw this as a betrayal of his ideals. He began to poison the minds of the darknesses, twisting their loyalty, controlling them, and corrupting them into weapons against the very Timebornes they were meant to protect. Like a cancer, his bitterness spread, unseen, until it was too late.”
The room seemed to hold its breath as he spoke the final words, each syllable heavy with foreboding. “Salvatore cultivated an army of darknesses, loyal only to him, with a singular, devastating purpose—to destroy their Timeborne counterparts.”
The idea of such treachery within Solaris’ walls was enough to chill the blood.
“When his plan was uncovered, Salvatore was cast out of Solaris,” Pasha Hassan said, his tone low and simmering with restrained anger. “But Salvatore was cunning. He evaded complete expulsion, secretly hiding in the shadows and continuing to corrupt the darkness, biding his time.”
My breath caught as I envisioned this master manipulator, an architect of chaos weaving his web of deceit and vengeance from the shadows.
“And then what happened?” I asked.
Pasha Hassan’s expression darkened further, his words like thunderclouds rolling across the room. “Many of the darknesses were once loyal to Lazarus, trained under his guidance to protect and serve the Timebornes. But as Salvatore’s influence grew, many turned away from Lazarus, lured by Salvatore’s promises of power, vengeance, and liberation from their perceived servitude.”
The bitterness in his voice was palpable, each word steeped in resentment. “Salvatore knew he needed more than brute strength to achieve his aims. He needed an army—a force capable of destroying his enemies—the Timebornes, Timebounds, and even the loyal darknesses who opposed him.”
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing through the flickering firelight. “So he turned his sights on the Timehealers. Their knowledge of Solaris’ unique flora and their ability to mend physical and temporal wounds was unparalleled. Salvatore twisted their minds, manipulating them with promises of power and dominion over those who wronged them.”
Pasha Hassan’s upper lip curled in disgust, his eyebrows furrowing as though the mere thought of Salvatore’s actions was enough to make his blood boil. His voice dropped, his words hanging heavy in the room. “With these newfound weapons—potions corrupted to harm rather than heal—Salvatore gained control over the darknesses, building himself a vast and mighty army that would obey his every command.”
The room seemed to constrict around us, the air growing heavier with each word. Roman released my hand to rake his fingers through his hair, frustration radiating from him like a storm brewing beneath the surface.
“Then, what of the balance, the order of things?” he asked, his eyes locked onto Pasha Hassan’s. “Salvatore created this army of vicious darkness, turned the minds of the Timehealers, and made them betray their people?”
Pasha Hassan’s gaze darkened, his features etched with a sadness that seemed to span centuries. “The monarchy fell after countless kings and queens had ruled Solaris with happiness, joy, and success. What was once a unified kingdom splintered into separate factions—the House of Shadows, the House of Timebornes, the House of Timebounds, and the House of Timehealers.”
Each name reverberated with power, carrying its gravity and purpose, as though their identities stitched together the very fabric of Solaris. Pasha Hassan’s fingers traced an intricate pattern along the polished grain of his Rosewood desk, the hypnotic motion reflecting the delicate balance Solaris had once maintained.
“The peaceful realm was no longer at peace,” he continued, his voice a low rumble. “Salvatore and Lazarus had once been allies, united by their shared vision for Solaris. Yet, Salvatore’s greed for power corrupted him, leading him to turn the darknesses against their Timebornes secretly. Lazarus, a powerful sorcerer and protector of the realm, eventually uncovered Salvatore’s treachery. He warned the leaders of Solaris of the growing corruption infecting their land. With an army of loyal darknesses, Lazarus set out to confront Salvatore and end his schemes.”
Pasha Hassan’s voice wavered, the weight of the tale pressing down on him. “But when they finally found Salvatore, it was too late. He had amassed an even greater army fueled by dark power capable of twisting and poisoning the minds of all who opposed him.”
Roman’s jaw clenched as the gravity of the revelation settled over us.
“And now,” Pasha Hassan said, his tone grim, “Salvatore’s ambitions had outgrown his hatred. His sights were set on the throne and the ultimate prize—the Blade of Shadows. The fate of Solaris teetered on the edge of ruin as this dangerous game of power and magic unfolded.”
The finality in Pasha Hassan’s tone left no room for doubt—Salvatore was an unparalleled threat to Solaris and the world beyond. As the echoes of his revelations faded into the crackling firelight, I realized that Roman and I stood at the precipice of a battle that would shape the fate of entire realms.
The shadows in the study seemed to stretch and deepen as if mourning the fractured history of Solaris. I sat stiffly in my chair, the weight of Pasha Hassan’s words pressing down on me, chilling me to the core. A history marred by betrayal and conflict was now ours to confront.
“Salvatore’s return from the shadows was like a plague,” Pasha Hassan said. “Death and destruction followed him as closely as a shadow clings on a sunless day.”
Roman leaned forward, his fists clenched tightly on his knees, his gaze fierce. His eyes burned like embers, radiating both frustration and disbelief. A low growl escaped him. “Those fools—King Cyrus and his queen—they should have listened to Lazarus instead of falling prey to Salvatore’s deceit!”
“But they did listen,” Pasha Hassan countered, his expression weighed down by sorrow and regret. The lines etched into his brow deepened, a testament to the burden of his knowledge. “Lazarus told them they needed Salvatore’s help. He believed freeing him was the only way to save their city. They trusted Lazarus, but even the brightest stars can be obscured by the mists of time.”
