Page 20

Ada

T hree days had passed since Hakan’s brutal invasion of my mind in the dungeon.

Three days of trembling hands and fractured sleep, my thoughts splintering and scattering every time I tried to piece them together.

The binding between us pulsed with residual pain—not the dull ache I’d grown accustomed to, but sharp spikes that left me gasping when I least expected them.

I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. I flinched at every shadow in my peripheral vision. The sound of footsteps in the corridor sent my heart racing, my body preparing for flight even when logic told me I was safe in my chambers.

But one certainty sustained me through the wreckage of my mind: he hadn’t found Kiraz.

Despite tearing through my consciousness with the subtlety of a blade through silk, despite reducing me to that broken, babbling thing Sarp had found curled on cold stone, the ancient protections held.

My daughter remained hidden, her existence shielded by magic older and more sacred than the shadow lord’s fury.

Years ago, after I’d recovered enough from my breakdown to think clearly, I’d sought help from Tolga, an elder who had served my father. With Nadine’s assistance, we’d performed an ancient ritual invoking Umay Ana, the goddess of motherhood and protection.

“We must create the gozboncu?u of the soul,” Tolga had explained, his weathered hands arranging seven blue candles in the pattern of the North Star. “Just as the evil eye amulet deflects malevolent gazes, this ritual will shield your daughter from magical sight.”

We had worked through three nights of the crescent moon, weaving light magic with strands of my hair and drops of my blood. I’d sung the ancient lullabies of the light-bearers when Tolga cast protective runes around us.

“The binding is sealed with Umay’s blessing,” Tolga had said when we finished, his eyes grave in the candlelight.

“It can never be broken, but neither can it be penetrated. Your child will be hidden from all who seek her through magical means—even Erlik himself cannot breach walls protected by Umay Ana.”

Now, touching my temple where phantom pain still echoed from his assault, I whispered a prayer of gratitude to the goddess. Whatever the cost to my own mind, Kiraz remained safe.

I dressed carefully, each movement deliberate as I worked to steady my still-trembling fingers.

The simple act of choosing clothes, of covering the bruises his grip had left on my wrists, felt like reclaiming some small piece of control.

Melo watched from her perch by the window, her turquoise eyes troubled.

“You’re not sleeping at all now,” she observed, but her tone was gentler than usual.

“Sleep brings dreams,” I replied and left it at that. The nightmares were worse than the exhaustion—fragments of shadow seeping into my mind, the sensation of my thoughts being sifted and sorted by invisible hands. “I’m managing.”

“Ada…” Melo’s ears flattened against her head. “What he did to you…that wasn’t interrogation. That was torture.”

I paused in brushing my hair, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I know what it was.” My tone of voice came out steadier than I felt. “But I survived it. And more importantly, he learned nothing.”

“At what cost?” she pressed. “You haven’t been the same since?—”

"I've been through worse," I cut her off, though the words were bitter poison on my tongue. The breakdown after Hakan’s betrayal, years lost to madness—those had been different kinds of destruction. This felt more…invasive. Like he’d left pieces of shadow lodged in my thoughts, whispers I couldn’t quite silence.

“I need air,” I said abruptly, heading for the door. “I’m going to the gardens.”

The guards exchanged glances before one nodded. “Stay within the south perimeter, my lady.”

“I’ll come with you,” Melo offered.

I shook my head. My responses came with noticeable delays, as if I had to fight through fog to process Melo's simple offer.

My eyes lost focus mid-conversation, staring at nothing while my fingers traced unconscious patterns on my arm—self-soothing that spoke to the deep psychological damage still lingering from Hakan's brutal invasion of my mind. “No, I…I need to be alone for a while.”

The gardens offered little solace, every blooming thing reminding me of Kiraz. I wandered aimlessly, keeping to the shadows to avoid the scorching heat. Eventually, I discovered an older section overgrown with wild roses and ancient yew trees.

The air felt different here—heavy with secrets. I traced the pattern of the hayat a?aci, the Tree of Life, in the dust at my feet, following an instinct I couldn’t name. My light magic awakened, hunger sharpening its edges.

Near a crumbling wall, something caught my eye—a peculiar shimmer in the air with pattern and structure. A concealment spell.

“Light sees through all disguises, little one,” my father had taught me.

I closed my eyes, recalling his exact words: “Where shadow hides, light reveals. Where darkness conceals, brightness unveils.”

This was more than training; it was the essence of what we were.

I raised my hand to send a pulse of light magic into the concealment, but faltered, my concentration fragmenting from the lingering damage to my mind.

"I can't hold the image," I whispered to myself, frustration clear in my voice. "Everything keeps slipping away."

The magic flickered weakly before dying entirely, leaving me staring at my trembling fingers in confusion.

I pressed my palm against the shimmering air again, forcing myself to focus despite the fog clouding my thoughts.

The magic resisted fiercely, repelling me with shadow enchantments that stung my skin and tried to blind my senses.

Three times I was forced back, each attempt leaving my fingers numb and my light dimmer, made worse by my fractured concentration.

On the fourth try, I channeled my desperation and fury, calling on my heritage as Gün Ata's daughter.

Finally, the shimmer parted reluctantly, the heavy barrier dissolving to reveal a narrow stone staircase descending into darkness.

I created a small orb of light and began my descent.

The staircase spiraled deeper than expected, the air growing damp and cold.

The walls were marked with faded symbols—Erlik's runes, ancient and potent.

Each step I took felt heavier than the last, as if the very shadows were trying to drive me back.

My light orb flickered, struggling against the oppressive darkness.

Eventually, the staircase ended at a heavy iron door with no magical locks—as if whoever used this passage had never imagined anyone unauthorized would find it.

I shoved it open and found a corridor stretching into darkness. From somewhere ahead came the sound of conversation. I extinguished my light and moved forward cautiously, listening.

"The subject still resists integration at the higher levels," a trembling tone was saying. "But the younger specimens show promising adaptation to shadow essence."

“Lord Azad won’t be pleased with mere ‘promising,’” another replied. “The ceremony requires fully integrated vessels. We need results before he returns.”

My blood froze. Azad—Hakan’s cousin with obsidian eyes who had watched me at the gathering like prey. What was his involvement in this?

“And what of Lord Hakan? If he discovers what we’re doing here?—”

“He won’t. He’s too preoccupied with his bride to concern himself with these passages. Besides, Lord Azad assures me this will please Lord Erlik immensely once it’s complete.”

I eased the door open and peered inside. The room was a laboratory with tables of equipment and shelves lined with jars of swirling darkness. Two men examined notes spread across a central table. Beyond them was another door with a tiny barred window.

I waited until they moved before slipping inside and peering through the bars of the inner door.

The sight beyond didn’t register immediately. My mind, still fragile from Hakan’s recent assault, couldn’t process what my eyes were showing me. At first, I saw only shapes in the dim light—minature forms huddled in cramped spaces.

Then understanding became a crushing weight on my chest..

Children.

The word formed in my mind, but I couldn’t find my voice. My breath caught in my throat, trapped there as if my body had forgotten how to function. These weren’t dolls or illusions or some twisted shadow conjuring.

They were real. They were babies.

At least a dozen of them, ranging from five to ten years old, locked in individual cells barely large enough for their small bodies.

Some children lay motionless, their skin marbled with black lines that pulsed with sickly energy.

The shadows had invaded their veins, dark tendrils visible beneath translucent skin.

Others paced their tiny confines on skeletal legs, shadows leaking from their eyes and mouths in wisps that dissipated into the stale air.

Their movements were jerky, puppet-like, as though their bodies were no longer fully their own.

One little girl sat rocking in a corner, dark veins visible beneath her pale skin where shadow magic had taken hold. Her eyes were completely black.

My hand flew to my mouth, pressing hard against my lips to muffle the sound trying to escape—not a scream, not quite a sob, but something raw and animal that came from the deepest part of my soul.

Kiraz. Oh gods, Kiraz.

These children were her age. Her size. Some had dark hair like hers, others blonde or brown, but they all shared that devastating innocence that belonged to childhood—innocence that had been stolen, corrupted, destroyed.

The boy in the corner cell broke my heart completely. He couldn't have been older than my own daughter, rocking back and forth with rhythmic control. Dark veins pulsed beneath his skin where shadow magic had corrupted his blood. The corruption spread slowly, visibly, like ink through water.