Page 55

Ada

" H e's dying," I whispered, and cradled Hakan's broken body close to mine.

Blood soaked through my clothes, his and mine mingling until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began. The golden blades had torn through him so viciously that even his shadows couldn't stem the bleeding. Adrenaline was coursing through my body; we were ambushed, and I had no idea where Sarp was.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Why throw himself before blades meant for me after everything between us? It would have been easier if he'd let me die—easier than this crushing debt I never wanted to owe him.

Melo, in her human form, knelt beside us in the smoldering battlefield. Her fiery hair whipped in the magical wind still swirling from the aftermath of Midas's destruction.

"Not yet he isn't," she said grimly, her hands already glowing with ancient fox magic. "But we can't stay here. Midas may be dead, but his forces will regroup. We need shelter, somewhere I can work."

"The shadow realm is too far," I said, panic rising when Hakan's breathing grew more labored. "He won't survive the journey."

Melo scanned the horizon. "There's a village—Isikkoy. Two miles east, within light territory but close to the border. They've remained neutral during the conflicts. I didn't realize how close we were to Nadine. She has a healing house there."

I brought my palms to my mouth, exhaling sharply. The choice loomed before me—taking Hakan to Isikkoy meant bringing him dangerously close to Kiraz. But the alternative was watching him bleed out in my arms.

"Kiraz is with her, and she will be eager to help," I said with newfound determination.

Melo didn't say anything. Her expression grew skeptical, but I wanted us to be close to Kiraz.

As we crafted a crude stretcher from broken spears and my cloak, Hakan's eyes flickered open briefly, unfocused and glazed with pain.

"Sarp," he rasped, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "Find him."

"We will," I promised, though I had no idea if Sarp had survived Midas's ambush. "Rest now."

His eyes closed again, shadows curling weakly around his fingers before dissipating resembling smoke.

My heart clenched with a fear I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge—that I might lose him just when everything between us had begun to shift, to heal.

I didn't think I was ready to forgive him, but he'd saved me during the battle.

The journey to Isikkoy was brutal but mercifully short. Twice we had to stop when Hakan's heart faltered, pouring our combined magic into him just to keep death at bay. By the time the village's whitewashed stone houses appeared through the trees, I was exhausted.

Nadine's healing house stood at the village center, marked by the ancient symbol of Ak Ana—a crescent moon embracing a star, the emblem of healing and balance.

My sister emerged before we reached the door, her flowing silver-streaked brown hair and keen healer's eyes so familiar my heart clenched with longing.

I hadn't seen Nadine since before my wedding to Hakan—she was the only family member who had supported me when I fell in love with a shadow lord, and the one I had entrusted with Kiraz's care when everything fell apart.

She embraced me briefly but fiercely, her eyes instantly assessing Hakan's condition.

"You look terrible," she whispered, and squeezed my hand. "Both of you."

Then she hugged me again, and I nearly broke down but told myself to hold it together. We needed her healer's skill now, not family reunions.

"You are tired, so go and rest. Now bring him inside," she commanded, already rolling up her sleeves. "Quickly."

Nadine led us through the main cottage to a smaller chamber at the back—her private healing room.

The space enveloped us in warmth and ancient magic—sage and yarrow for healing, lavender for cleansing, and beneath it all, the subtle tang of light magic infused into every surface.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles of herbs and tinctures, while a narrow bed occupied the center of the room.

We laid Hakan on the bed that seemed too small for his tall frame. In the warm lamplight, he looked worse—skin ashen beneath the blood, chest barely moving with each shallow breath.

"Everyone out," Nadine ordered once we had settled him. "I need space to work."

"I'm staying," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Nadine assessed me with shrewd eyes that missed nothing. "Very well. But you"—she nodded at Melo—"wait outside."

Melo hesitated. She appeared uncharacteristically concerned. "I should search for Sarp," she said finally. "He was with the shadow warriors when Midas attacked."

I nodded, recognizing the worried glint in her fox eyes. In the short time Melo had known him, Sarp had somehow slipped past her considerable defenses. "Be careful."

"I will be fine Ada," she replied with a ghost of her usual smirk before slipping out the door.

Once alone with my sister, I collapsed beside Hakan's bed. My light was already seeking Kiraz's, a pull I felt in my very bones after weeks of separation. I desperately needed to see her, but I was filthy and covered in blood—not the way I wanted my daughter to see me after so long apart.

"Nadine, if he dies?—"

"He's the shadow lord, he won't," she interrupted, her hands already aglow with healing light. "Not while I have breath in my body. Not while you need him."

For three relentless hours, we worked in harmonized silence, her practiced healer's touch guiding my raw power.

We called upon Ak Ana's ancient wisdom, weaving light into the deepest wounds where Midas's corrupted gold had left its poison.

The golden venom hissed and steamed when our light magic purged it.

Dawn had broken by the time we'd finished, both of us exhausted and blood-spattered.

"He'll live," Nadine pronounced finally, and wiped her hands on a cloth already stained crimson. "Though Kara Tanri himself must favor him. No ordinary man could survive such wounds."

"He's not ordinary," I murmured, brushing damp hair from Hakan's forehead. His breathing had stabilized, shadows once again clinging to his skin, though far weaker than normal.

When my fingers traced his brow, the binding between us pulsed in response—a quicksilver thread of connection that had transformed into something I couldn't name. Through it, I sensed his life force strengthening.

"So I see." Nadine studied the shadows with professional interest. "The binding between you has grown stronger since I last saw you. It's what kept him tethered to this realm instead of crossing to Erlik's domain."

I glanced up sharply. "Can you see our binding?"

She nodded, her healer's vision perceiving what others could not. "It's changed—evolved. Neither pure light nor shadow, but something new. The binding has grown stronger—it's what kept him alive."

At the mention of Kiraz, my heart constricted with longing and guilt. It had been weeks since I'd seen her, and now she was so close I could barely contain myself.

"I need to go to her," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I need to see her now, before anything else happens."

Nadine's expression softened with understanding. "She's at my cottage with Iris. Go, Ada. Clean yourself up first—you don't want to frighten her with all this blood. I'll stay with him."

I looked down at myself—blood-soaked clothes, cuts on my face, exhaustion written in every line of my body. My daughter had already been through enough uncertainty; she didn't need to see me like this.

"Thank you," I whispered, squeezing Nadine's hand. "If he wakes?—"

"I'll handle it," she assured me. "Go to your daughter."

After washing all the blood off my body and changing into clean clothes Nadine had provided, I allowed myself a moment of vulnerability, pressing my forehead against Hakan's hand where it lay motionless on the bed.

"You idiot," I whispered fiercely, tears flowing freely now. "Taking those blades for me. What am I supposed to do with this? With you?" My voice broke. "How am I supposed to hate you when you keep proving yourself worthy of something else?"

His expression remained unchanged, but his shadows stirred faintly, curling around my wrist in desperate tendrils seeking warmth. They twined with my light in a gentle caress that resonated through our binding, carrying a ghost of emotion—regret, resolve, and something else I dared not name.

The memory of our souls touching during the battle returned with visceral intensity—the cascade of shared memories, the raw emotion that neither of us had been able to hide from the other.

For those brief moments, we had been stripped of pretense, of the carefully constructed walls built over five years of separation.

Twenty minutes later, I stood outside Nadine's cottage, my hands trembling as I reached for the door. I had washed the blood away, changed into clean clothes Nadine had provided, but I felt raw and vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with physical wounds.

The door opened before I could knock.

"Mama?"

Kiraz stood in the doorway, her dark curls catching the morning light, her intelligent eyes—so much like mine in color but with Hakan's intensity—taking in my appearance with the careful assessment of a child who had learned to read danger.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other. Weeks. It felt like a lifetime since I'd held her, though she hadn't changed as dramatically as I'd feared. But she was still my little girl, still the most precious thing in both realms.

"Mama!" she cried, and launched herself into my arms.

I caught her, crushing her against my chest as tears I had been holding back for weeks finally broke free. She felt so small, so fragile, but also so wonderfully solid and real in my arms.

"My little light," I whispered into her hair, breathing in her scent of sunshine and sweet herbs. "I've missed you so much. So much, sweetheart."