We trod upon a mosaic of stone and earth, our boots scuffing the remnants of a path long claimed by time.The air was thinner here, laced with the scent of pine and something older—something ancient and watching.The Carpathian wilderness whispered around us, promising secrets only the brave or the foolish dared to seek.
“Salvatore’s name,” I said at last, unable to contain the gnawing curiosity, “it falls from your lips with a weight of history.You speak as if you were bound by more than rivalry.”
Lazarus halted, his eyes distant, lost in memories that had long since turned to ghosts.“We were close,” he admitted, and the words seemed to cost him, pulled from a place long buried.“Brothers, in all but blood.But power…” His jaw clenched.“Power overcame him.Twisted what we were into something unrecognizable.”
His voice was hollow, as though speaking it aloud made it real again—reopened a wound long buried beneath layers of time and silence.I felt the pull to ask more, to peel back the layers of that darkness, but before I could form the words, Lazarus raised a hand—a silent barrier, firm and final.
“No,” he said, his voice a blade.“I will not answer more questions.Some truths are too perilous to unearth.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was thick, alive with what remained unsaid.And I knew then that whatever had passed between Lazarus and Salvatore left more than scars.It had caused a chasm no words could bridge.
Resigned, I let the silence settle over us once more.
We pressed onward, the mountainside begrudgingly yielding beneath our steps as though the earth resented our intrusion.Then the land began to speak—not through sound, but through signs.A trail of withered flowers stretched before us, their once-vibrant petals shriveled and gray, crumbling beneath the weight of unseen decay.We were touched by something unnatural, something wrong.Like breadcrumbs from a forgotten fable, they led us forward—not to guide, but to warn.
Our journey culminated at an imposing stone wall—but this was no ordinary barrier.Shaped into the mountain’s face stood an ancient door, weathered yet immovable, the final guardian of realms long forgotten.The structure was monumental, flanked by towering columns worn by time and wrapped in creeping ivy.Moss clung to every crevice, while intricate carvings—symbols of a lost age—etched their way up the stone facade like veins of memory.
At its center, the door loomed, forged of greenish-blue stone streaked with veins of age, its surface marred by the slow erosion of centuries.Twisting wrought-iron designs formed an ornate gate before it, delicate yet impenetrable, like vines frozen in mid-growth.Above the archway, a stone relief crowned the structure, engraved with runes half-worn by time and overgrowth.The doorway seemed to pulse with dormant power as if the mountain had been cleaved open to protect the world beyond.
“This is it,” Lazarus declared, his voice slicing through the hush of the wilds.He placed a hand upon the cold, rough surface of the door; reverence creasing every line of his face.“Beyond this stone lies our realm—Solaris in its veiled glory.Whatever awaits us there,” he turned, locking his dark gaze with mine, “will change everything.”
A shiver crawled down my spine—not from the mountain’s chill but from the weight of his words.This was no mere crossing.
It was a reckoning.
We stood together, two men haunted by shared and solitary pasts, poised on the precipice of an uncertain future.Bound by fate, secrets, and the world that waited beyond the stone.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
DANCING FIRE
Istepped softly through the thick underbrush, the bow in my hands a familiar weight that grounded me.The forest wrapped around me in its quiet embrace—whispering leaves, the scent of pine and damp earth, the faint rustle of prey in the distance.This place was my refuge.Here, time moved differently, and for a fleeting moment, the heavy mantle of being a Timeborne could be set aside.
My eyes traced the green canopy above as shafts of sunlight pierced the dense foliage, casting shifting patterns across the forest floor—light dancing with the breeze.The hum of life surrounded me—birdsong, the chirp of insects, the distant murmur of a stream.When one carried burdens from other worlds, this world’s heartbeat remained unbothered.
The hunt had always been a meditation—a way to find stillness amidst chaos.Every step careful, every breath purposeful.But today, the tranquility was broken, fractured by thoughts of Elizabeth.Her eyes, the color of a storm-washed sky, wide and watchful, mirrored the vastness of her spirit.Soft but certain, her voice held a strength that resonated beyond words.Thoughts of her wove around my heart like vines, binding me to her in ways I still struggled to understand.
She was the source of the disquiet that shadowed my every move.I had saved her once—pulled her from the edge of danger, not because the spirits demanded it, but because something within me recognized her.
Not her face, not her voice, but the flame behind her eyes.
It was familiar.
As if she carried echoes of another time—of a promise made long ago, before either of us had names.A thread woven through the stars that tugged at my spirit with quiet insistence.
Since then, she had become part of our tribe.She was a balm over wounds I thought had long since scarred.But they hadn’t.Not truly.And now, with each passing day, I could feel her becoming more than just a guest.
Yet she belonged to another—Amir, my closest friend.Amir’s dark eyes missed nothing, and his sense of honor was as steadfast as the ancient stones that anchored our land.When he came to me, his request had been simple and solemn—watch over Elizabeth and protect her.I had freely given that oath, an extension of the brotherhood that bound us.
But oaths, no matter how sacred, could not silence the heart’s longing for what it must not possess.Elizabeth brought something new into my life—a light that reached the darkest corners, a warmth I could neither ignore nor embrace.How could I reconcile these growing feelings with the loyalty I owed Amir?He spoke few words, yet every one he spoke with purpose.Beneath his clipped commands lay the quiet weight of a homeland lost and a love for Elizabeth so deep it defied expression.
I paused beneath the towering oak, leaning against its rough bark, grounding myself in its solidity.I closed my eyes, letting the forest speak—wind in the leaves, the distant cry of birds, the pulse of life untouched by conflict.I needed this hunt, this momentary escape, to still the turmoil rising within me.
As the leaves rustled overhead, I reminded myself that my path was clear.I was her guardian, sworn to keep her safe.The longing that threatened to consume me had to be crushed before it could take root.
There would be no betrayal of Amir.No yielding to desires that could only lead to ruin.I was Dancing Fire, a warrior shaped by tradition and time itself.My path was one of sacrifice—that was all I could see for now.
The forest embraced me, its ancient trees standing sentinel as I moved silently among them.My bow rested in my hands, an arrow nocked and ready.I was a shadow over the earth, a whisper in the wind.Yet the most practiced hunter could not silence the soft crunch of leaves beneath his feet—a sound that now betrayed the approach of another.
