He shook his head, his voice dropping to a mournful whisper. “Salvatore was cunning. He knew how to play the role of the penitent. He knew when to bide his time and when to strike. The people who gave him a second chance could never imagine how deeply his thirst for vengeance ran. He mastered the art of masking his true nature, spreading dark lies with the precision of a blade to weave the chaos he craved.”
A chill crept through me, settling in my chest as I imagined the harmonious realm of Solaris fracturing under the weight of Salvatore’s schemes. I could almost see the realm tearing at its seams, its people divided by mistrust and fear, their unity shattered by the tendrils of his malevolence.
“And the daggers?” I asked, almost afraid to hear more.
“Chaos incarnate,” Pasha Hassan said, his voice grave. “When they were separated, it was as though the very fabric of Solaris was torn in two. A great expulsion ensued, casting us away from Solaris, with our memories stripped bare as we were flung to this harsh Earth.”
A heavy silence fell over the room, suffocating in its intensity. The enormity of what we faced loomed like a shadow, stretching across the fragile remnants of hope we carried. A legacy of strife and a battle unseen yet deeply felt now rested on our shoulders.
“Scattered like leaves in a tempest,” I murmured, my mind conjuring an image of lost souls drifting aimlessly, their ties to Solaris severed but not forgotten.
Pasha Hassan nodded, his expression burdened with sorrow. “In this world, the darkness is cursed with a never-ending cycle of violence and survival, constantly seeking to kill for sustenance. And amid it, all are the Timebornes, hunted by both the darkness and the Timehealers, who have been twisted into ruthless Timehunters. Their sole mission is to eliminate all Timebornes, Timebounds, and opposing darknesses. Our once unified realm now lies fractured, its people adrift, clinging to fragmented memories of a peace that feels as distant as a dream.”
Roman stood abruptly, his posture tense, his hands clenched at his sides. His gaze locked onto the dim torchlight flickering against the stone walls, shadows dancing like restless specters. His voice, when he spoke, was low and filled with resolve. “We must destroy Salvatore and his army of monsters.”
The finality of his words settled like a lead weight in the room. The truth was undeniable—we were remnants of a shattered realm, bound by fate and loss, thrust into a quest that seemed impossible and necessary.
The weight of Pasha Hassan’s revelation pressed down on me as though the air had grown heavier. I struggled to process the implications, my mind spinning with questions and doubts.
“These blades... they are to open the realm of Solaris?” My voice was barely a whisper, disbelief lacing every syllable. A chilling realization crept through me, twisting into my thoughts like an unsolvable puzzle. Could I be from Solaris? Or at least a descendant of someone who was? The thought gnawed at my consciousness, weaving its way into every corner of my mind.
But even more perplexing was my mother’s role in all of this. Born on Earth, I couldn’t reconcile how I—or she—fit into this ancient tale of realms and daggers, Timebornes and darknesses. The pieces of the puzzle seemed both tantalizingly close and impossibly far away.
Pasha Hassan nodded solemnly, his gaze weighted with centuries of untold truths. “That’s right. Mathias has always been a devotee of Salvatore, harboring his memories of Solaris while we’ve all been wandering in the dark. He fears the union of the blades—not for the power they wield, but for the truths they will unveil.
“Everyone wants to return there,” he said, almost reverent. “But our recollections are lost in the void. When the blades are reconciled, the veil lifts, and we begin to remember. Salvatore’s defiance against Lazarus altered the very fabric of our existence.
“This world is not our home,” Pasha Hassan continued, his voice softening with longing. “Our exile began here when the blades were separated. They possess the capacity to revive the realm of time, to mend what has been shattered.”
Roman swallowed hard, his face a mask of conflict. “You seek to obliterate the darkness, yet that’s not our ultimate goal. Salvation lies in Solaris. There, you can vanquish Salvatore himself.”
“Everyone has their motives,” Pasha Hassan said. “Balthazar yearns for the blades to reclaim his daughters and family—all prisoners within Solaris’ confines. Lazarus pines for his beloved Amara and his children. Even Raul and your grandfather Thomas, tangled in their webs of desire, are ensnared. My beloved wife, your mother Elizabeth, is trapped there.”
His voice softened further, carrying the weight of unspeakable loss. “Everyone who has died from that realm here on Earth is now a prisoner in Solaris. All of them—the good and the bad—wish to be released, to see Solaris restored to its former glory.” I felt Roman stiffen beside me as the enormity of Pasha’s words settled over us like a shroud.
“Nearly all of the Timebornes on Earth have lost their memories,” Pasha Hassan continued, his eyes glistening with the light of hope and despair intertwined. “Yet a yearning to go back persists in their hearts.”
A sudden chill ran through me as I caught Roman’s eye. Our gazes locked, and in that moment, it was as if we shared an unspoken understanding. Memories of a distant world flooded my mind—a world I had never known until this very day. It was as though a piece of my soul stirred, yearning to return to that unknown realm. A shiver passed through my body, the color draining from my face as the realization sank in. Were we connected by something greater than ourselves? And why could I remember so little?
“I know when you originally learned about these blades from the Great Chief, your sole purpose was to destroy Balthazar and all the evil darknesses out there. But destroying Salvatore is paramount,” Pasha Hassan said, his tone grave. “He plots to rule over Solaris, to twist it into a bastion of evil, creating destruction and chaos. Your mother covets dominion over that throne and wishes to rule alongside Salvatore. But once, life thrived there—it was harmonious and resplendent. We aided one another in unity until Salvatore sowed discord, turning us against ourselves.”
We sat there, stunned into silence, the weight of the truth pressing heavily on us. Words failed as the enormity of our heritage and destiny bore down. The only sound in the room was the soft crackle of the fire, its warmth failing to chase away the chill that seeped into my bones.
“In the wake of the blades’ separation and the banishment of our people from Solaris, Lazarus has been tirelessly piecing together a plan to regroup and build an army against Salvatore’s dark forces,” Pasha Hassan continued, his voice resolute. “We know that since those blades were torn apart, Salvatore has been actively seeking them out, harnessing his twisted powers to locate them and bolster his corrupted army of Timehunters. But now, thanks to Lazarus gifting us back our memories of Solaris, Zara and I have been working tirelessly to restore them and bring the lost souls back to where they belong—fighting for their true home.”
“And with you, Olivia, now possessing both blades, it is time to bring them back to life,” Pasha Hassan said, his voice filled with conviction. “Reunite our people, lead them back to their rightful place, and vanquish Salvatore and all his dark minions once and for all.”
My veins pulsed with a newfound determination as I locked eyes with him. The weight of his words settled deep within me, igniting a fire I hadn’t realized was waiting to be stoked. My voice was low, steely, carrying the promise of unwavering resolve. “Roman and I will stop at nothing to destroy him and restore Solaris to its former glory.”
But even as I spoke, frustration churned within me, a storm of unresolved memories threatening to boil over. They lingered just out of reach—fragments of a life I couldn’t fully recall. Why couldn’t I remember the whole truth? Why couldn’t I unleash the full fury burning within me? The pieces were scattered like shards of a broken mirror, and I was desperate to piece them together before it was too late.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
OLIVIA
Surrounded by the heavy scent of aged leather and copal-polished Rosewood, I perched on the edge of an ornate chair in Pasha Hassan’s study, my mind swirling with a tempest of revelations. Every intricate carving in the room seemed to echo his regret and resolve. He loved his family deeply, yet he bowed before a cause greater than any bond of blood or affection. Pasha Hassan sought to protect what was left of his lineage just as fiercely as my father had endeavored to shield me.
I traced the cool metal of the mysterious blades across my lap, their engravings taunting me with secrets yet to be unlocked. I looked at him, his silhouette framed by the expansive tapestry behind.
