Page 76 of Sweet Venom Of Time (Blade of Shadows #6)

“What must I do?” My voice cracked, barely audible over the drumbeat of my heart.

Amir’s hands clasped mine—strong, sure, yet heartbreakingly gentle. His touch was both a tether and a plea.

“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice solid with resolve, “you must stay away from alchemy. Live a normal life. Become a seamstress. Keep your head down. Avoid herbs, healing, and anything that draws attention.”

His words were a requiem—a burial hymn for the life I’d lived and the purpose I had breathed. Each one cut deeper, slicing into the core of who I was.

Tears welled up, spilling over like a dam breached by sorrow.

“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I can’t give it up. It’s part of who I am.”

The words shook from me—raw, anguished. Alchemy wasn’t just a practice—it was the rhythm of my soul, woven into the fabric of my being, how I touched the world, and how I understood it.

“I made a promise to my mother, Amir.” My voice cracked, but I pressed on, needing him to understand. “She devoted her entire life to alchemy. Before she died, she made me promise to carry on her work. I can’t turn away from that now. I won’t.”

I drew in a shuddering breath, tears streaking my cheeks, the weight of that vow pressing into my soul. “If I walk away now, I betray her. I betray myself.”

Amir’s gaze locked onto mine, intense and pleading, his fingers tightening gently around mine as if to tether me to him.

“You must, Elizabeth.” His voice was soft, but beneath it lay an urgency like a storm about to break. “You can never practice it again. You must have an ordinary job. Something simple. Safe.”

The cold truth of his words seeped into me, slow and unforgiving. A life stripped of alchemy felt like a sentence, not salvation—as if he’d asked me to sever a part of myself and still learn to breathe.

“There’s more, my love.” His hand brushed away a tear from my cheek, the gesture tender, even as the world beneath me shifted.

“While in the Americas, you met a man named Dancing Fire. He is my best friend. I asked him to watch over you, to protect you. Always.”

His confession wrapped around me, startling and strange, yet it settled the chaos of my thoughts—a protection I hadn’t known I’d been given.

“Even as I served Lazarus,” Amir continued, his voice thick with emotion, “I ensured you were never alone. You were cared for. You were watched over.”

The depth of his loyalty and the sacrifices made in silence struck me. Amid the storm of fear and uncertainty, his devotion filled me with gratitude.

As I met Amir’s unwavering gaze, the reality of my new, fragile existence hung heavy between us—a tapestry of protection he had woven, thread by thread, leaving me sheltered… but shackled.

My heart thundered against my ribs, each beat a drum of shock, the revelation crashing through me, fierce and unrelenting. Dancing Fire—Amir’s closest confidant? The man who had stood at my side through loss, through birth, through betrayal—a protector cloaked in secrecy?

The pieces clicked together, sudden and jarring. He had been my guardian angel in disguise, an invisible thread woven through my life, pulled tight by Amir’s unseen hand.

And I—I had never known I was bound.

“Amir,” I whispered, the name catching on my breath. “I… I cannot fathom…”

He sat beside me, the stoic mask he always wore softened by moonlight, casting silver across the sculpted angles of his face.

“The last thing I ever wanted was to leave you, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low and threaded with sorrow that mirrored the ache in my soul.

“I did not choose to part ways with you, nor did I do so out of desire.”

A single tear traced down his chiseled cheek—silent, unbidden, and devastating. It glistened in the dim light, a testament to the war he fought within himself.

“Your safety is paramount. My presence alone endangers you. But tonight, when I saw you wandering the streets, alone, lost…” His voice broke. “Something inside me shattered. I could no longer remain hidden.”

“Can you stay?” The plea escaped me, raw and desperate, a choked whisper of longing. “Please, Amir… I cannot bear this solitude.”

He cupped my face in his hands, the warmth of his touch grounding me, as fear coiled tight in my chest. His thumb brushed away a tear, but the dread remained unmoving.

“Elizabeth,” he murmured, “my heart is tethered to yours. But our fates… they are cruel. Twisted with dangers greater than either of us can imagine.” His eyes—dark, bottomless wells of pain and resolve—held mine, refusing to let go.

“Salvatore’s shadow looms. And he is ruthless. He hunts without rest.”

“Because of the flower?” The words escaped me, haunted by memory—the Noctyss flower, its beauty a lie, hiding the lethal power that flowed through its veins.

“Yes, my love,” Amir confirmed, his jaw tightening. “That flower holds the key—the only known force that can neutralize a Shadow Lord’s power. Salvatore seeks it. Seeks you. Though he knows not yet who you are.”

A chill lanced down my spine.

I had held the flower.

I had wielded its alchemy.

And now… I was the key to Salvatore’s downfall.

“Then what are we to do?” I breathed, desperation lacing every word, fear gnawing at the frayed edges of my composure.

“Live quietly. Blend into the tapestry of this city,” Amir said, each syllable resolute. “And should I find a way, I will come to you. But without a pattern. Without expectation. Our encounters must remain cloaked in secrecy—for both our sakes.”

“Amir…” I reached for him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against the coarse fabric of his sleeve, trying to anchor myself in him. Could I truly accept this life? A life of fleeting shadows and stolen moments?

“Promise me you will endure, Elizabeth,” he whispered, drawing me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead—a benediction, a plea, a goodbye all at once. “For us. For our child. For the future, we dare to dream.”

He rose, leaving a chill in his absence. His footsteps echoed in the chamber, back and forth, a metronome counting down the seconds we had left.

Our son lay curled in sleep in the corner, peaceful and unaware. His breaths were soft and even, a fragile rhythm of life in a world that teetered on the edge of war.

Then Amir stilled. When it came, his voice was heavy—each word a weight that crushed the air around us.

“Elizabeth… our son must never know about me.”

The room spun.

I stood, stunned as if the ground had been yanked from beneath me. “What? No!” I stepped forward, my voice breaking, refusing to accept the sentence he had just laid before me.

“Our son must never know about me,” Amir repeated, quieter this time but with a finality that pierced my heart. “Make up a story about our affair. Let him believe I abandoned you. Let him hate me. If you must.”

My breath hitched, the protest clawing up my throat. “Amir, I can’t… I can’t do that.” To deny Roman his father—to bury this love, this truth—it was a betrayal I couldn’t fathom.

“You must.” Amir’s eyes locked on mine, filled with sorrow and torment—yet unwavering. “He must despise me. It will prepare him for his destiny.”

“I can’t do this!” I shot back, my voice breaking under the weight of anguish. “I’m proud of what we created.” The thought of tainting our love with lies—turning it into something shameful, something forsaken—was more painful than any wound.

“I’m sorry,” Amir whispered, the words like glass underfoot, his voice thick with pain. “But it must be this way.”

My gaze faltered, unable to hold his any longer. The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in, whispering secrets of heartache and sacrifice, of all that was being lost.

“Amir… I love you. So much.” My voice trembled, a fragile thread in the silence. “Knowing you’re watching over me—it takes away the pain. But how—how can I do this to our son?”

His expression shattered me—his pain a mirror to my own, as though we were both torn apart by the same cruel hand.

“You must tell him a story,” Amir urged, his voice fierce with desperation. “Say I used you. Betrayed you. Let him hate me.” He swallowed hard. “I will always be with you—but in the shadows.”

The weight of his words crushed me, a burden too great, yet I could not cast it off.

“Lazarus will punish me if he knows I’m here,” Amir continued, his voice darkening with urgency. “And Salvatore must never find you. I cannot risk your life, Elizabeth—not for anything. I love you too much. And that means… forcing a chasm between me and my son.”

Tears blurred my vision, burning hot as reality cemented itself into me, leaving no room for denial. Amir’s love—a fortress, immovable and fierce—now stood as a wall between us, protecting and shielding me but never allowing me close.

“Promise me, Elizabeth.” He stepped forward, his hand rising to cup my cheek, his touch a flicker of warmth in the cold desolation of this moment. His thumb brushed away a tear, his eyes seeking mine. “Promise me you’ll do this. For him. For us.”

In his touch, I found the strength I thought I’d lost. I nodded—a small, trembling motion—yet it sealed a pact that would alter the course of our lives forever.

“Promise me,” Amir repeated, his voice heavy with deep sorrow; it seemed to hollow the air between us. “You will embrace the ordinary, the mundane. I will provide for you from the shadows. Steal moments when I can. But Roman… he must never know.”

The world I had just begun to rebuild shattered again, each jagged shard a cruel reminder of the impossible path before us. My heart fractured, the pain unfathomable—yet within it, my resolve hardened like steel forged in fire.

“I will do whatever it takes,” I whispered, my voice brittle with unshed tears. “But this… this will break me.”

Amir’s gaze held mine, unwavering, fierce, a lifeline in the storm of my despair. “No, Elizabeth. You are the strongest woman I know.”

His faith wrapped around me, a shield against the crushing weight of sacrifice.