The dining area awaited us, an opulent space that exuded a sense of grandeur. Gilded archways framed the doorways, their golden sheen catching the flickering light of the oil lamps. The walls bore intricate mosaics, vibrant depictions of conquest and splendor from the Ottoman Empire’s storied past. Persian carpets softened our steps, their patterns a kaleidoscope of vivid colors and intricate designs. A long dining table carved from dark mahogany dominated the center of the room. Its rich, polished surface reflected the warm glow of the hanging lamps above. Cushioned divans surrounded it, their inviting fabric calling for relaxation and leisure.
Amir sat at the head of the table, commanding even in repose. An array of dishes was spread before him—honey-drizzled figs that filled the air with sweetness, the savory aroma of spiced lamb simmering nearby, and a bowl of jewel-like pomegranate seeds catching the light. A stack of fresh flatbreads lay within easy reach, their edges curling with steam.
“Father,” Roman said hesitantly, the word unfamiliar on his tongue.
Amir looked up, his keen eyes immediately locking onto the blade we carried between us. A flicker of delight crossed his face.
“Ah! What is this?” he said, his voice brimming with approval. “I see you did not need my help. This is most excellent.”
“Amir,” I began, my voice tight as I fought to keep my frustration in check. “The blades—they’re not...”
I trailed off, extending the conjoined sun and moon daggers. Their lifeless form felt heavier than before, a tangible reminder of our perceived failure. They lay cold and unremarkable in my hands, stripped of the light and power we had anticipated.
“I’m impressed,” Amir said, leaning back in his chair to survey our work. His praise felt hollow against the weight of disappointment crushing my chest.
“They’re dead,” I blurted, my desperation slipping through my words. “Nothing is happening. Our daggers at least light up when awakened.”
“You connected the blades, yes,” Amir said, his tone maddeningly casual. “But now you need the Scrolls of Time.”
“The Scrolls of Time?” I repeated, exhaling heavily. The thought of another obstacle, another hunt, when victory had seemed so tantalizingly close, felt unbearable. “What are these scrolls?”
“It’s like a recipe,” Amir said, reaching for a cluster of grapes and popping one into his mouth with infuriating ease. “They guide you on how to make the blades truly alive and powerful.”
Frustration boiled over inside me, the heat of it rising to my cheeks. “You should have prepared us. You should have at least mentioned there were more steps to the process!”
Amir’s expression remained composed, his calm juxtaposed with my agitation. “Had I told you, would you have even learned the scriptures?” he asked, his voice sharp yet patient. “No. You would have given up.”
“Where do we find these scrolls?” Roman interjected, his arm slipping around my waist in silent support.
“Your father, Jack, has them,” Amir said, his piercing gaze landing on me.
My heart sank further. Another puzzle piece lay hidden, waiting for us to unearth it. The path ahead promised to be fraught with more secrets and trials than I had ever imagined.
“Are you kidding? My father has the scrolls?” I asked, my voice a mixture of disbelief and anger. The room spun slightly as Amir’s revelation bore down on me.
“Yes, your father,” Amir confirmed. “He is a man with many secrets. It’s time for you to travel back to the twenty-first century and see your father, Jack James. The full moon is in a few days. You must all prepare. Only your father can help you because he is the keeper and protector of the Scrolls of Time.”
“My daughter is a Timeborne,” I said, the fear for Luna’s future clawing at my chest. “If we time travel, her darkness will awaken.”
Amir sighed, his tone softening only slightly. “There are far greater things to worry about, my dear. You must fear Mathias, Alina, Salvatore, and his army of darkness. Malik will come with you to keep you safe.”
The reality of what lay ahead settled into my bones, heavy and unrelenting. Enemies were closing in, and our family’s safety hinged on actions we had yet to understand, let alone master.
“Then we have no choice,” Roman murmured, his hand tightening on my waist as he read the resignation in my eyes.
“None whatsoever.” Amir stood, his form imposing as he pushed away his plate. “Make your preparations. Time waits for no one.”
He dabbed his lips with a cloth napkin, his words like a solemn decree. “It’s going to be a long journey. Prepare.”
The weight of his gaze felt like chains around my wrists, binding me to the path I could not escape. I drew a deep breath, trying to quell the nerves fluttering in my chest like caged birds. Time travel was not new to me, but it had been an eternity since I last ripped through the fabric of time. The thought alone made my stomach churn.
With Amir’s departure, a heavy silence filled the room. My mind reeled from his words, each a bitter pill laced with hidden truths and veiled intentions.
“Great. Now I have learned that my father has been keeping more secrets from me,” I whispered. “Is there anyone in my life who has not deceived me?”
As I turned to face Roman, the ache in my heart eased. His eyes, steady and sincere, met mine, and a wave of warmth washed over me. In that gaze, I found an anchor in the storm that raged around us.
“Never,” Roman said, brushing away the tear from my cheek. “You’ve always had me, Olivia, as your trusted companion, and you always will.”
