“Watch Rosie,” I told the maid, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
She nodded with wide eyes as she scooped the child into her arms. I didn’t wait to see if Rosie’s face crumpled into tears or clung to hope; there was no space in my head for anything but the blistering anger.
As I made my way out, my boots clattered against the wooden floor, slamming the door behind me with a resounding thud that seemed to echo my fury. The house—the cage of my own making—fell away behind me as I strode toward the stables. My fingers itched for action, anything, to unleash this torrent within.
Upon reaching the stables, I swung the door open, and it banged against the wall. The horses startled at the intrusion, their eyes rolling with nerves. I approached the nearest stall, the one housing a chestnut mare with a blaze running down her nose, Swiftwind. She snorted, sensing my mood, but I had no patience for gentleness. I grabbed her halter and led her out, saddling her with swift, jerky movements.
Once mounted, I dug my heels into Swiftwind’s flanks, and we shot forward like an arrow from a bow. The rhythm of her hooves pounding the earth became the soundtrack to the chaos in my mind. Trees blurred past as we tore through the familiar paths, the wind lashing against my face, doing nothing to cool the heat of my anger.
Then came the haunting thoughts, the dangerous game I’d played with fate not once but twice. Olivia and Roman, unwitting pawns in a match where I had lost control of the pieces long ago. Memories flickered, cruel and taunting—fire licking at ancient timber, screams filling the night air—an earlier life’s tragedy that I had hoped would remain buried. Yet, here I was again, threading the needle between salvation and damnation, and the eye was ever-narrowing.
I leaned into Swiftwind’s gallop, urging her faster as if I could outrun the regret that clung to me like a shroud. The forest became a green blur, shrouded with shadows, and I welcomed the numbness that riding always brought. It was a temporary escape, a momentary lapse in the relentless tide of self-recrimination that threatened to drown me. But even as Swiftwind’s powerful strides carried me further away from the house, there was no escaping the truth—I had screwed up. And this time, the cost might be more than I could bear.
Swiftwind’s hooves pounded the earth with a rhythmic fury that matched the turmoil in my chest. I could no longer tell where her heartbeat ended, and mine began, our syncopated pulsing a testament to the chaos ensnaring my thoughts. The secrets I harbored were a poison coursing through my veins, and I was its sole antidote—a cure I couldn’t administer.
“Marcellious,” I hissed into the rush of wind. He had been right beside me, within arm’s reach, and then, just like that, snatched away by malevolent forces I could neither predict nor understand. How could I have allowed it? How could I be so careless? Anger at myself bubbled and seethed—a cauldron of self-loathing ready to erupt.
The canter slowed to a trot, and Swiftwind’s breath came out in labored puffs. Every snapped twig or rustle in the underbrush felt like an accusation, a reminder of my failure. We were in this together—Roman, Marcellious, and me—and the weight of their fates bore down on me with the gravity of a thousand moons.
“Mathias won’t find him,” I muttered to Swiftwind, though she offered no solace. “He’s telling them lies when I know he’s not even looking.”
My grip on the reins tightened. Trusting Mathias, a man whose motives were as murky as the ocean’s depths, was a fool’s errand. But what choice did I have?
My chest constricted, a vice around my heart. I should’ve kept them close and seen the danger simmering beneath the surface. Instead, I led them straight into the mouth of the beast, blinded by my hubris and deafened by my arrogance. If only I hadn’t taken them for supplies, hadn’t left the safety of our sanctuary. Regret gnawed at me, a relentless hound with a taste for my spirit.
“Forgive me,” I whispered to the wind, the trees, and the gods who had turned their backs on us long ago. “I’ll find you, Marcellious. I swear it.”
The words were a vow etched in the marrow of my bones. But promises, I knew all too well, were fragile things—easily made and more easily broken.
Then there was that other disturbing fact—Alina was alive.
That sentence snaked through the chaos like poison, tightening around my heart with every repetition. She was a specter from the past, resurrected to haunt the present, and her survival threatened to unravel everything we had worked for. How she managed to cheat death was beyond me, and I shuddered at the implications of her return.
Swiftwind’s breaths came in heated gusts, fogging the cool air in a cloud that dissipated as quickly as it formed. We raced through the forest, the looming trees standing sentinel over our desperate flight. But it wasn’t just an escape; it was a pursuit of answers, guidance, and any semblance of control in a world that seemed determined to slip through my fingers like grains of sand.
The house appeared as we rounded a bend, its wooden frame modest and unassuming amidst the wild. Zara’s abode was the only place left where wisdom might be found, where I could sift through the wreckage of my decisions and salvage some hope. I needed her insight, her foresight, something to cling to in this maelstrom.
“Easy, girl,” I murmured, pulling back on the reins to slow Swiftwind. The horse snorted, her sides heaving, and together, we approached the house nestled in the embrace of the forest.
I dismounted, my boots sinking into the loamy soil, ground tied Swiftwind, and strode toward the door with determination etched into every line of my body. I had come for counsel but also for absolution, for some sign that the path I trod wasn’t leading us all to ruin.
“Zara,” I called out, urgency lacing my voice. “We must talk immediately. The plan is getting out of control.”
I hammered my fists against the weathered wood of Zara’s door, the sound echoing like a drumbeat of my fraying nerves. The door creaked open as if she had been waiting just beyond it, her piercing eyes meeting mine with an unsettling calm.
“Malik,” she said, stepping aside to allow me entry into the humble space crowded with books and jars of mysterious contents used for healing.
I burst past the threshold, my voice raw with panic and frustration. “Everything is a fucking mess. We put Olivia and Roman in danger.”
“Malik, calm down,” Zara said, her voice steady as a rock amidst my storm. But I couldn’t stop; the floodgates had opened.
“And Marcellious... he’s gone,” I continued, stalking through the small main room, my boots scuffing against the wooden floor. “He’s been taken by Raul and his Timehunters. You were right about everything!”
Zara shoved me hard against the back of the worn-out couch. I stumbled before tumbling onto the cushions.
“Why are you here?” Her voice cracked like a whip, each word a pointed barb aimed at my already raw conscience. “You’re only supposed to be here if Roman and Olivia are dead, imprisoned, or worse.”
I struggled to regain my composure, my mind spinning from the abruptness of her anger.
