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I nodded slowly, absorbing this information. "So he's been remembering me, remembering us, for two years." A bitter smile touched my lips. "And yet he still chose to bind me against my will. Still planned to use me in his father's ritual."

"Ada, it's more complicated than?—"

"Is it?" I stood, brushing dust from my dress with deliberate calm.

"Yes, Erlik manipulated him. Yes, he was forced to forget me.

But Sarp..." I looked at him directly. "He still chose power over love in the first place.

The spell didn't make him drive me away—that was his decision.

Everything that came after, everything his father did to both of us, started because Hakan decided I wasn't worth fighting for. "

Sarp winced. "He thought he was protecting you?—"

"By making the choice for me. By deciding what I could or couldn't handle." I shook my head. "The memory spell explains much, but it doesn't excuse everything. Hakan may have been a victim of his father's manipulation, but he was also the author of his own choices."

I moved toward the corridor, then paused. "Thank you for telling me. It... it does change some things. But not everything."

“The child—Kiraz—she’s what, four?”

“Almost five,” I confirmed. “Born nine months after I left him.”

“Conceived just before he drove you away.” He shook his head, looking suddenly much older, the weight of this revelation heavy on his shoulders.

“Nearly five years,” he whispered. “Nearly five years she’s been growing up without him.

Without…” His voice broke again. “I should have known. I should have—” He cut himself off, visibly struggling for control.

After a moment, he laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Gods, the cosmic joke. He sacrificed everything to protect you from his father, only to leave you unprotected with his child.”

“He doesn’t deserve to know,” Melo said fiercely.

“Probably not,” Sarp agreed, his eyes still haunted. He ran a hand over his face before forcing a casual shrug that didn’t match the emotion in his eyes. “But is it about what he deserves, or what keeps the little green-eyed terror safe?”

The question hung heavy in the air. I had asked myself the same thing countless times. Would Kiraz be safer if Hakan knew? If he acknowledged her as his, would his protection outweigh the danger his father posed?

“Your word,” I demanded. “Swear you won’t tell him.”

Sarp held my gaze, then nodded solemnly. “You have it.” He turned to Melo, still holding her wrist. “And you, magnificent creature, can put away your threats. I’m firmly on Team Keep Hakan in the Dark.”

Melo searched his face, centuries of wisdom in her ancient eyes. She stepped back, though wariness lingered in her posture.

“If you betray us,” she warned, “no realm will hide you from my vengeance.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Sarp said with a flourish of a bow. “Though I must say, your protective instincts are as attractive as they are terrifying. I find myself wondering what it would take to inspire such fierce loyalty from you.”

Melo's cheeks flushed pink, her usual composure cracking as she glanced away from his gaze. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve—something I'd never witnessed in all our centuries together. She cleared her throat twice before speaking, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal.

“I should get back to my chambers,” I said, suddenly feeling like an intruder. “Before someone else finds us here.”

“You should,” Melo agreed, but her attention remained fixed on Sarp. “I’ll…join you later.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by this unexpected development. “Are you sure?”

“Perfectly,” she said with unusual crispness. “I have a few things to discuss with Lord Sarp about the nature of secrecy and consequences.”

“Oh, we’re using titles now?” Sarp grinned, clearly delighted by this turn of events. “I was hoping we were past such formalities, especially after you had me pinned against a wall. Where I come from, that’s at least a third date.”

I backed away, torn between amusement and concern. “Don’t kill him, Melo. He’s still a friend.”

“No promises,” she muttered, but the usual bite in her voice had softened to something almost playful.

When I turned to leave, Sarp called after me, “Ada.”

I looked back.

“Be careful. The palace is restless tonight. There are factions moving in the shadows—those loyal to Erlik and those who resist him—and most of them don’t have your best interests at heart.”

His tone carried an ominous weight. My skin crawled.

He turned his attention back to Melo. The last thing I saw while I slipped away was him gesturing dramatically as he said, “Now, about that fascinating transformation. Do you just…decide to take the human form or is there a specific fox-to-goddess conversion ritual involved?”

Morning brought no relief from my troubled thoughts. I picked at my breakfast, unable to focus. Melo had returned to my chambers just before dawn, refusing to discuss whatever had transpired between her and Sarp, though something had changed in her manner—a lightness I hadn’t seen in centuries.

The revelation that Hakan had been under a spell when he’d left me had shaken foundations I thought immovable. If he truly hadn’t known what had happened to me, did that change anything?

No, I decided firmly. Spell or no spell, he had chosen power over love.

A soft knock interrupted my brooding. Melo lifted her head, ears alert. She was back being in her fox form again.

“Lady Narin,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “Again.”

Narin entered with quiet grace, her gown of deep purple flowing and rippling with each step.

The representative of House Kaya—one of the ancient shadow families with the deepest ties to the old magic—carried herself with the confidence of one who'd survived centuries of Shadow Court politics.

Darkness wreathed around her form, but there was something deliberate in her display of power today.

“You look troubled, light-bearer,” she observed, taking a seat without invitation.

“Dreams,” I stated.

She studied me, then withdrew a small roll of parchment sealed with black wax.

The seal itself caught my attention—not Narin’s personal mark, but something older, a sigil I recognized from ancient texts: the emblem of the Shadow Resistance, a faction that had opposed Erlik’s rise to power centuries ago.

“I came with an offer that requires an immediate decision.”

“What offer?”

“Escape.” She placed the parchment between us. “There are those of us who remember what the shadow realm was meant to be—a balance to light, not its destruction. We have worked in secret for generations, preserving the old ways. We oppose Erlik’s corruption and his son’s ambition.”

I didn’t touch the parchment. “Why would you help me?”

“Because the ritual Hakan plans will not only destroy you but will corrupt the shadow realm further,” she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned closer.

“The Crown of Ashes Ritual was perverted from its original purpose. If he consumes your light as his father intends, he will disrupt the delicate balance between realms that has existed since the beginning. He will become something far worse than Erlik—a being of pure shadow with no humanity left.”

I thought of Sarp’s revelation—the memory spell, Hakan’s guilt without understanding. “And if I refuse your help?”

“Then you place your fate in the hands of a man who has already sacrificed you once for power,” she said, her eyes never leaving mine.

“A man whose soul is divided between what he was born to be and what his father has made him.” She leaned forward.

“The parchment contains a map to hidden pathways beneath the palace—passages that predate even Erlik’s rule.

They lead beyond the shadow realm, to places where neither Hakan nor his father could follow. ”

My heartbeat quickened. Freedom. A chance to return to Kiraz, to take her somewhere safe.

“What if Hakan isn’t planning to sacrifice me?” I asked. “What if he’s seeking another way?”

“A comforting fantasy,” Narin said, not unkindly.

“I’ve watched the prince grow from boy to monster.

I’ve seen what remains of his humanity diminish year by year.

” Her fingers traced the edge of the parchment.

“But ask yourself this—has he ever chosen you over power before? When it truly mattered, where did his loyalty lie?”

The words struck with cruel accuracy. “When?” I asked, decision forming. “When can I leave?”

“Tonight,” she mused, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “When the palace sleeps. The map will guide you to an entrance near the old library. Bring nothing but yourself.”

“Where would I go?”

“To the Twilight Sanctuary,” she explained, and rose. “Hidden in the borderlands between shadow and light, where the ancient balance is still preserved. Those like us have gathered there for centuries, waiting for the moment when equilibrium might be restored.”

Her hand on the door, she paused. “Choose wisely, light-bearer. Not all enemies are obvious, and not all who offer help have pure intentions.”

With that, she slipped out, leaving me with the sealed parchment.

“Well,” Melo said, and transformed to her human form in a flash of golden light, her anxiety about our potential escape sharp enough to trigger the change. “That was both dramatic and suspiciously vague.”

“Do you think it’s a trap?” I asked.

“Almost certainly,” she said, examining the seal more closely.

“The question is, whose trap? This seal matches descriptions from the ancient texts—the mark of the Shadow Resistance that disappeared nearly a century ago. Either Narin has access to genuine artifacts, or she’s studied the old records as thoroughly as we have. ”

I broke the seal, unrolling the parchment to reveal an intricate map drawn in silver ink that seemed to shift as if alive.

The lines pulsed with their own subtle glow, revealing passages that appeared and disappeared when I watched—a map enchanted to show different paths depending on the phase of the moon and the alignment of magical energies.

Passages spread beneath the palace like roots, extending far beyond the grounds.

“These aren’t just physical tunnels,” I whispered.

I recognized the ancient magical notation.

“They’re pathways between realms—tears in the fabric of reality that existed before the separation of shadow and light.

If this is real… Tonight,” I murmured, and studied the map. “We could be with Kiraz tomorrow.”

“If the map is genuine,” Melo cautioned. “If Narin’s offer is sincere.”

“I need to verify this,” I said, and rerolled the parchment. “There should be markings in the old library that correspond to these passages—references in the ancient texts. If I can confirm even one of these pathways exists…”

Melo nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” I decided suddenly. “Stay here and prepare what we might need for escape. If this is real, we’ll have only minutes to act tonight.” I met her eyes. “If anyone asks for me, make excuses. I need to be alone.”

She frowned. “After last night’s wandering, that’s unwise.”

“Please, Melo,” I insisted. “I’ll be careful. This is too important—we need to know if these pathways are real before we risk everything.”

Reluctantly, she agreed, shifting back to fox form and curling on a cushion. “One hour. Then I come looking.”

I sneaked from my chambers, the guards falling into step behind me at a respectful distance.

With a casual gesture that I’d practiced for days, I created a subtle pulse of light magic that disoriented them momentarily—the same technique Melo had taught me for emergencies—not enough to raise alarm, but enough to let me slip away at the next intersection.

When I walked, I weighed Lady Narin’s offer against the risk of remaining.

Could I trust Hakan to find another way?

Did I dare trust anyone in this palace of shadows?

A familiar tug pulsed at the edge of my consciousness—our bond stirring as if responding to my deception—but I pushed the sensation aside.

I made my way toward the old library, avoiding the main corridors, using servants’ passages I’d observed since my arrival.

If Narin’s information was correct, one of the hidden pathways should connect directly to the ancient archives—the forbidden section that contained texts from before the separation of realms.

Lost in thought, I turned down a corridor I’d never explored before, drawn by some inexplicable pull.

The passage narrowed, the light dimming, until I found myself in a section that seemed older than the rest. Ancient symbols decorated the walls—not the familiar runes of shadow magic, but something older, a hybrid script that contained elements of both shadow and light languages.

I outlined the carvings, recognizing phrases that spoke of balance—knowledge from the forbidden texts Melo had made me study during our years in hiding, preparing for exactly this kind of situation.

The map in my sleeve warmed against my skin.

I withdrew it cautiously, watching as the silver ink glowed brighter, responding to the ancient magic embedded in the walls, revealing passages that had been invisible before.

The same shifting silver ink I’d noticed earlier now revealed new details, becoming more animated the closer it came to the ancient inscriptions.

“This is it,” I whispered, excitement building. “One of the entrances.” I traced over a symbol on the wall that matched one on the map. “The gate of equilibrium—one of the original doorways between worlds.” My heart raced when I realized the escape might truly be possible. “If I press here?—”

The tug at my consciousness suddenly blazed into full awareness—our bond flaring with recognition.

A chill ran down my spine while shadows gathered and thickened at the end of the corridor.

I sensed his presence before he spoke, the familiar tug of our connection alerting me even when I tried to conceal the map.

“Looking for something, wife?”

My blood froze at that voice. I turned slowly to see Hakan emerging from the shadows, his eyes cold as winter frost.