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"Ada—" His voice cracked as he moved toward where I had fallen. "I didn't mean—that wasn't?—"

As I looked up at him from the cold stone, something crystalized in my mind—a moment of perfect clarity cutting through years of confusion and pain.

The way his hand had lashed out without thought, the uncontrolled rage that had blinded him to everything but his own hurt—this was exactly why I had kept Kiraz from him.

This was the confirmation of every fear that had driven me to secrecy.

"This," I whispered, my voice gaining strength as I pushed myself up. "This is why I never told you. Look at yourself, Hakan. Really look. Is this the father you would have been?"

Hakan stood frozen, his face a mask of dawning horror as the full weight of what he'd just done crashed over him.

The proud shadow lord, the man who claimed rights to his daughter, had just struck the mother of his child in blind rage.

His hands trembled as he stared at them, then at me, then at Sarp who was wiping blood from his split lip.

Something inside me snapped. Five years of fear, of loneliness, of protecting our child while he played the ruthless shadow lord—it all came rushing forth in a torrent of rage. I surged to my feet, light magic erupting around me like a supernova.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!" I screamed, hurling a bolt of pure light that struck him squarely in the chest, sending him staggering backward. "You NEVER wanted a child! All you ever wanted was your precious shadows, your father's approval, your fucking power!"

Hakan's face registered shock as he struggled to regain his balance.

"You speak of rights?" I advanced on him, another blast of light magic keeping him off-balance. "What about MY rights? I carried her alone! I gave birth to her alone! I RAISED HER ALONE while you were busy playing the monster of the shadow realm!"

"You want to know why I never told you? LOOK AT YOURSELF!" My voice broke with fury and pain. "A man who strikes a woman, who chokes his friend, who can't control his rage long enough to think about his own child's safety! What kind of father would you have been?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Melo, who had seen countless battles, stared in horror at what Hakan had become. Sarp stood against the wall, blood trickling from his split lip, but his eyes held more disappointment than anger.

"Enough," Melo said quietly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Look at yourselves. Both of you. Your daughter has been taken by a madman, and you're here tearing each other apart."

Her words crashed over me, cold and unforgiving. Suddenly I remembered—Kiraz. My baby girl, stolen away while we fought over the past.

Rain began to fall in earnest now, the storm finally breaking overhead. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the light magic still flickering around me.

"Nine months after leaving you, I gave birth to her alone," I continued, my voice shaking with the weight of years of suppressed pain.

I watched the knowledge settle into him like poison, his face cycling through shock, grief, and a rage that had nowhere to direct itself.

This was why I'd feared telling him—not because he wouldn't care, but because he would care too much, too violently.

The man who commanded shadows and inspired fear across realms was being brought to his knees by the simple truth of a child he'd never known existed.

"And then I broke completely. The strain, the isolation, the grief of losing you—my mind shattered immediately after her birth.

For eighteen months, Nadine raised our daughter while I was lost in darkness.

When I finally recovered enough to truly hold her, she was taking her first steps and saying her first words. I'd missed it all."

Hakan's face had gone white, his shadows recoiling as if in physical pain.

"And just days after I finally held her, really held her, she wouldn't stop crying.

For three days and nights, she screamed until her tiny face was purple with effort.

Her shadows were merging with light magic.

I held her through it all, pouring my light into her hour after hour until I collapsed from exhaustion.

" Tears streamed down my face, but my voice grew stronger.

"Where were you when she had night terrors that shook the cottage with shadow tremors?

When other children shunned her because they sensed she was different?

I protected her from a world that would use her as a weapon. Every single day for five years."

"You weren't man enough to be there when I needed you," I hissed, each word a dagger. "So I did what I had to do. I protected her from everyone—including you."

Hakan stood frozen, watching the tears stream down my face as the full weight of what I'd endured alone crashed over him. For the first time, he seemed to truly see not the woman who had kept secrets from him, but the mother who had sacrificed everything to protect their child.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Rain streamed down his face, and when he finally spoke, the fight had gone out of his voice entirely.

"You're right," he said, the admission seeming to cost him physically.

"I wouldn't have deserved her then. I would have been exactly what you feared—a father consumed by his own demons, too proud to see past his own needs.

" His gaze dropped to his hands. "Look at me now.

My child is missing, and I'm here assigning blame instead of finding her. "

The raw honesty in his voice stilled some of my fury. This wasn't the cold shadow lord who had bound me against my will, but someone genuinely grappling with his failures.

"I can track them," he said, straightening with a new purpose. "Portal magic leaves traces in the shadow realm—especially fairy portals, since they don't belong there naturally. Martha's magic will stand out like a beacon against the darkness. But the trail fades quickly, so we need to move now."

"Then we go," I said immediately, already gathering my magic.

"Ada—" he began.

"Don't." My voice brooked no argument. "That's my daughter out there. Our daughter. Whatever else lies between us, we face this together."

He studied my face for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Together, then. But we do this smart—not rushing in blind. Martha wouldn't have taken her without a plan."

As we prepared to leave the tower, Hakan paused beside me. "I've had many titles," he said quietly. "Shadow Lord. Son of Erlik. Master of Darkness. But father..." His voice caught. "That's one I never thought I'd claim, never thought I deserved. Yet now it's the only one that matters."

His eyes met mine with something I'd never seen before—not the arrogant prince or the cold lord, but a man stripped bare by his own failures and desperate to do better.

"I don't know if I can be the father she deserves," he continued. "But I can be the father she needs right now—one who will move heaven and earth to bring her home."

"Then let's go bring our daughter home," I said, and meant it. Whatever came after, whatever wounds still needed healing between us, could wait. Right now, Kiraz needed her parents—both of them.

Before I could argue further, he closed his eyes briefly, as if gaining strength, then opened them with renewed determination.

"Our binding, the ritual, my father's plans—none of that matters now. Only Kiraz. When she's safe, we can decide what comes next. Together or apart."

Then he moved toward the edge of the battlement, shadows gathering around him in a controlled pattern I'd never seen before.

"I'll bring our daughter home," he said, meeting my eyes one last time. "We'll bring her home."

His form began to dissolve into shadows, but this time I was ready. My light magic flared alongside his gathering shadows—not merging, but moving in harmony for the first time. Where once our powers had clashed, now they worked toward the same desperate purpose.

"Stubborn fools," Melo muttered, but there was fondness in her voice. "Always having to face the darkness together now."

"He's not alone anymore," Sarp said quietly, touching his bruised throat but showing no anger. "Neither of them are."

"Then let's go," I said, light magic flaring around my hands as it moved alongside Hakan's shadows. "We have a daughter to save."

As we launched ourselves into the storm, I felt something shifting within me—not forgiveness, not yet, but perhaps the beginning of understanding. Hakan and I had both failed each other in different ways, but we would not fail our daughter.

We would find Kiraz, together. And perhaps in saving her, we might find a way to save ourselves as well.