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Everything started making sense now—her fierce hatred that went beyond mere betrayal, the intense flashes of trauma I sometimes glimpsed through our bond, the way she flinched at certain words or touches as if remembering something beyond my sight.

I had broken more than her heart; I had shattered her mind, her magic, her very sense of self.

“I have to make this right,” I muttered, the words escaping before I could trap them behind my teeth. The realization burned through me with unexpected intensity, shaking foundations I’d thought immovable.

“How exactly do you plan to do that?” he asked, skepticism dripping from every word. “You can’t change the past, Hakan. And correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you still planning to use her in some potentially fatal ritual in, oh, about nine days?”

I shot him a withering glare. “I’m working on alternatives.”

“And so far, you have nothing.” Sarp’s sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a blade. “I’m sure those alternatives don’t involve any sacrifice whatsoever from the woman whose mind you already broke once.”

My shadows lashed out before I could stop them, writhing around us both in agitated spirals. I was fucking losing it. I was enraged that he knew and refused to say anything.

"You should have fucking told me," I snarled, stepping closer until we were face to face, my voice barely above a whisper. "Choose your next words very carefully."

To his credit, Sarp didn't flinch or back away. "I've been choosing my words carefully for five years," he replied, meeting my gaze steadily despite the oppressive darkness surrounding us. "Maybe it's time someone didn't."

We stared at each other for a long moment before I stepped back, shadows receding. "I was trying to fucking save her," I said, my tone softer.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Sarp rubbed his throat, voice raspy. “You could have made different choices back then, but you chose power over love.”

I turned back to the courtyard, where Ada was now kneeling beside the pale-skinned girl, helping her strengthen her small shadow abilities. The sight left something aching in a place I thought had died years ago.

“I’m going to seek her forgiveness and trust,” I said. “Ada deserves that much.”

“Radical concept,” Sarp muttered, still massaging his throat. “Have you tried, I don’t know, not threatening to sacrifice her for magical power?”

I ignored his barb. “She sleeps in my chambers, and so far she has not tried to stab me again. It’s a small progress.”

Sarp’s eyebrows shot up, and he laughed. “Fuck, you’re delusional. I bet she wouldn’t sleep with you willingly if you gave her the choice.”

“I’m going to cut off your tongue if you don’t shut up,” I snapped. I glared at his amused expression. “The binding is unpredictable, but there seems to be a pattern. When she’s safe, when she’s…happy…” I hesitated over the unfamiliar word, “…the pain lessens. Perhaps proximity matters, too.”

“It’s because of the bond, now that your marriage has been consummated,” Sarp suggested dryly.

I didn’t dignify that with a response, though the memory of her beneath me, around me, sent heat coursing through my veins. “I need to understand this binding before the ritual. If there’s any chance of finding an alternative…”

“And if there isn’t?” Sarp asked.

I met his gaze, letting him see the truth I rarely acknowledged even to myself. “Then I need these last days with her. Before…” I couldn’t finish.

Something like sympathy flickered across his face. “Why do you refuse to tell her how you feel? Despite everything. Despite what you’ve become.”

“Love is a weakness I can’t afford,” I replied without a second thought, the words sounding hollow in my throat.

Sarp snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.” He glanced toward the courtyard, where Melo had emerged fully from the shadows, her human form drawing curious stares from the children. “Speaking of weaknesses…”

“Don’t,” I warned. “Whatever you’re thinking about Melo, stop thinking about it. She’s not human. She’s not even fully of this realm.”

Sarp grinned, his gaze never leaving Melo. “She’s the kind of woman who makes my dick hard.”

“She’ll break you,” I said bluntly.

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “Maybe I’ll let her try.”

I shook my head, recognizing the futility of arguing. In some ways, Sarp was as stubborn as I was—perhaps why our friendship had survived despite everything.

“You’re thinking with your dick, not your head,” I said, and turned away from the courtyard. “I need to go. There are certain things I need to prepare for.”

“For seducing your wife or sacrificing her?” Sarp called after me. “I always get those two confused.”

I didn’t respond, my mind already racing ahead.

The revelation about Ada’s breakdown changed everything—and nothing.

I justified the pain now and welcomed it in.

I needed to suffer for what I’d done to her, for causing her this pain.

The ritual still loomed, and my father still expected Ada’s sacrifice.

But now I knew exactly how much I had taken from her. How deeply I had wounded her, beyond even what I had intended. The knowledge burned like acid in my veins, fueling my determination to find another way.

Nine days. I had nine days to solve an ancient magical puzzle that had stumped shadow lords for generations. Nine days to save the woman whose mind I had broken once already.

Nine days to prove I wasn’t my father’s son after all.

The ritual, as my father had originally described it, would create a conduit to harvest her light and strengthen my claim to the shadow throne.

But now I knew the truth—it would kill her, draining every drop of divine light from her being.

My father’s plans suddenly seemed even more sinister in light of this knowledge.

He had only recently discovered Ada was Gün Ata’s daughter, but now I wondered: if he knew how vulnerable she was because of our prior separation, would that make her an even more appealing target for the ritual?

Did the Crown of Ashes require not just light magic, but broken light magic to achieve its full potential?

I intercepted Ada when she returned to her chambers that evening, stepping from the shadows to block her path. She started, one hand flying to her throat, the other instinctively gathering light magic in her palm.

“Hakan,” she said, light fading. She recognized me. “You need to stop doing that.”

"Doing what?" I asked, aware that I was crowding her space deliberately, drawn to her warmth despite myself. She was so beautiful, and when I was near her, the pain eased slightly.

"Appearing out of nowhere. Lurking in the shadows." Her voice was steady, but her pulse betrayed her, fluttering visibly at the base of her throat with rapid, frantic beats. "It's unsettling."

“I like keeping an eye on you,” I reminded her. I allowed a hint of amusement to color my tone. “Lurking is somewhat in the job description.”

She didn’t smile. “What do you want?”

So direct. So fearless, despite everything.

I studied her face, searching for traces of the breakdown Sarp had revealed.

I wanted her to tell me, so I could fucking tell her how I truly felt.

How had I not seen it before? The shadows beneath her eyes spoke of old sorrows.

The wariness in her gaze went beyond mere distrust.

“Let’s go to bed, you seem exhausted,” I said.

She looked surprised. “I think you should let me go back to my chambers.”

“And I thought we were making progress,” I interrupted, though the memory of her beneath me sent heat coursing through my veins. “I want you in my bed, for safety. Protection.”

She laughed, the sound sharp and hollow. “From what? You’re the only thing in this realm I need protection from.”

The words stung more than they should have. “There are nine days until the ritual,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “My father’s allies are growing restless. Some factions would prefer to take matters into their own hands rather than wait.”

“And sleeping in your bed protects me, how, exactly?” she challenged.

“I sleep better when you’re there,” I admitted, the truth emerging before I could stop it. “I’m more aware of threats. More…connected to you through the binding.”

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, perhaps, at my candor. “Why should I care if you sleep well?”

“Because when I don’t, I’m less able to protect you.” I moved closer, unable to resist brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And despite what you believe, Ada, I do want to protect you.”

She flinched slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. “Why?”

I was silent for a moment, wrestling with how much to reveal. “Because despite everything, I’ve never stopped—” I caught myself. I was unwilling to say the word that hovered on my tongue. “Caring. About what happens to you.”

“Caring,” she repeated, words flat with disbelief. “You left me. You broke me. And now you care?”

Her words settled between us as a challenge, laden with the unspoken truth about how completely she had shattered after I’d left. The pain in my chest flared sharply, responding to her distress.

“I never stopped.” I held her gaze. “Everything I did, even making you leave, was to protect you from what I was becoming. From what my father wanted to make of me.”

“And now?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “What does your father want to make of you now?”

“A killer,” I answered with honesty. “Your killer, specifically.”

She took a sharp inhale. “At least you’re honest about it.”

“I’m trying to find another way.” I moved closer still, until I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

I wanted to touch her, bring her closer and fucking kiss her, but it was all too soon.

She didn’t trust me at all, and she was hiding things from me.

“But until I do, I need you safe. I need you close.”

“So you can watch me?” she challenged.

“So I can watch over you,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”

She searched my face, searching for deception and finding only raw truth. Finally, she nodded, a single sharp movement. “Fine. But don’t mistake this for trust, Hakan. Or forgiveness.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I replied, relief washing through me despite her warning. “I just want you close.”

When evening approached, she followed me to my chambers, the silence between us heavy with unspoken truths. I thought of her mind shattered for two years, lost in darkness because of me.

I’d break the world before letting her suffer like that again.

Even if it meant breaking myself instead.

Later, as Ada slept beside me, carefully maintaining the distance between us, I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting her in silver that reminded me of her light magic.

Two years lost in darkness because of me.

Two years of her light extinguished. I pressed a hand to my chest where the binding had returned as a familiar ache, one that had settled back into the dull throb I'd grown accustomed to.

This pain was nothing compared to what she had endured.

Perhaps it was only right that I should carry some small fraction of what I had caused her.

When I drifted toward sleep, one thought remained clear: I would find another way. I had to.