“Roman...” His name was a lifeline, something solid amidst the quagmire of confusion.
“Once Balthazar and you remember who you are,” Amara said, her voice so faint it was almost lost in the vastness of the chamber, “everything will change.”
“Change how?” I questioned, but Amara only shook her head.
“Remember, Olivia,” she said, stepping back into the shadows. “Before it’s too late.”
Amara’s silhouette dissolved into the twilight, her presence lingering like an echo in the vastness of the chamber. Her final words struck like a hammer against the stone.
“You found the sun and moon daggers,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of forgotten ages. “You have to remember the rest.”
Her words hung in the air like a challenge, a key dangled just out of reach, waiting to unlock the prison of my mind. I grappled with fragmented images, shards of a life I couldn’t imagine. The dagger… I could almost feel the cool metal in my grasp, the intricate handle, the perfect balance of the blade. But the rest—meaning and memories—remained obscured, shrouded in a fog I couldn’t penetrate.
“Remember,” Amara said, but her voice was fading, blending into the echoes of the grand hall.
I blinked, and the world shifted beneath me, time folding in on itself like an unseen tide. A gasp escaped my lips as I stumbled forward, the castle’s grandeur dissolving into a room less opulent but rich with its history. Tapestries adorned the walls, their stories woven in vibrant threads, yet they offered no answers, only questions.
“Olivia!”
Roman’s voice tethered me to the present, and I turned to see him by my bedside, his face drawn and tired, eyes rimmed with red but alight with something akin to joy. He was a disheveled shadow of the man I remembered, yet the sight of him was as refreshing as rain after drought.
“Roman?” My voice sounded distant, foreign.
As I struggled to make sense of my surroundings, my eyes slowly adjusting to the candlelit room, Roman threw himself at me, wrapping his arms around me with a fierce urgency. His embrace felt like home, a warm sanctuary after a long journey.
“I thought I’d lost you!” He pressed his lips against mine, pouring all his emotions and fears into the kiss.
His intensity took me aback, but my own emotions flooded to the surface. Tears fell from my eyes as I clung to him, grateful to be in his arms once again. We stayed locked in each other’s embrace, our hearts beating in unison.
Roman pulled back, cupping my face, his eyes searching mine.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I need to know what happened to you.”
“I…I don’t know.” Disoriented, I tried to piece together thehowsandwhysof my state. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“Several days,” he said. “You sipped water and slept. We were worried...”
“Days…” The word lingered on my lips, foreign and heavy. It intertwined with the fragmented images of dreams—or memories—that flickered just beyond my reach, stirred by Amara’s cryptic words.
“Rest now,” Roman said. “We’ll find the answers together.”
His assurance was a balm, and I clung to it, hoping we could piece together the puzzle of my identity and our entwined destinies.
A pang of discomfort clawed at my chest, a sharp reminder that reality was not just about memories and mysteries. The physiological evidence of motherhood made itself known in the bloated tenderness of my breasts, swollen with milk.
As I struggled to form a coherent thought, my eyes locked onto Roman’s.
“I had the most bizarre dream,” I said, my voice trembling with confusion and frustration. “It was about my past life… as Isabelle. She knew Mathias and Balthazar in the dream, but it didn’t make any sense. I’m trying hard to remember, but something is blocking me—like a wall I can’t get through.”
The memories were fragments of glass scattered on the floor of my mind, glittering with importance yet impossible to piece together without bleeding for them. Despite the pain, I knew they held the key to understanding everything.
My breath hitched with the effort of thinking beyond the present moment, my mind straining against the weight of forgotten memories. “I need to speak with Malik and Balthazar.”
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Malik appeared in the doorway. “Olivia, my darling. You have awoken.”
Roman and I exchanged glances, his eyes conveying a silent message—trust in Malik’s loyalty and discretion. I shared a trust, but I needed more than silent assurances. I needed answers.
“Malik, please,” I said, my voice shaking. “I need you to tell me more about Isabelle and her connection to Balthazar and Mathias. She seemed to know them, and I had such a vivid dream, but the pieces refused to fit together. Please help me understand. Who was Isabelle? How did she know Mathias and Balthazar? You’ve spoken of your attraction to her before—surely you know more.”
