Page 81 of Sweet Venom Of Time (Blade of Shadows #6)
Dancing Fire arched a thick brow, cautious but intrigued. “Of course,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking into a faint smirk. “It proved perilous for both of us.”
I nodded, but the smirk vanished from his face when I spoke.
“Elizabeth was the one who crafted the poison,” I said, my voice unwavering despite the storm I knew these words would bring.
“She was the alchemist. She and her mother discovered the Noctyss flower—a rare bloom that only grows on Solaris. But when Isabelle separated the blades, the barrier between realms tore open... and the flower bled through. It grew here, too.”
His eyes narrowed, the flicker of intrigue in them instantly smothered by something darker—suspicion. And beneath that, I saw it—hurt.
His brow furrowed, lips pressed into a hard, thin line. “Why are you telling me this now? After all these years?” His voice was tight, laced with frustration and undeniable pain beneath that. “When I was finally starting to heal from the loss of Elizabeth... and her two boys.”
Elizabeth’s and my two boys , I corrected silently. But jealousy had no place here. Not now. Not with everything we stood to lose.
I inhaled slowly, grounding myself in the bond we’d forged—not just through friendship but through war, blood, betrayal, and brotherhood—a bond that had survived lifetimes.
“Because,” I said, meeting his gaze without flinching, “you and I have been more than allies—we’ve been brothers.
And true brothers don’t keep secrets... not ones like this.
” I paused, letting the weight of my words settle.
“That’s why, all those years ago, I asked you to watch over Elizabeth for me.
Because I knew she was in danger. Salvatore was hunting her, and I trusted you to protect what mattered most.”
Dancing Fire nodded, his gaze distant. “She was never mine to love. Just as Marcellious and Roman were never mine. We are but shadows cast upon this stage, bound to play the roles fate has chosen for us.”
A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I looked away, the weight of his words settling heavily on my chest. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice laced with sorrow.
“I know... But that doesn’t make it any easier, Dancing Fire.
Can you begin to imagine my pain? My heart breaks every time I see them, my flesh and blood, my sons.
.. and they don’t know me. I never got to teach them to hunt, fight, and stand tall as men.
I was a ghost, watching from the shadows while you stood in my place, guiding them, shaping them. ”
My voice wavered, raw emotion pouring out as the truth sliced through me. “It shattered me... every day. But I bore it because it was necessary. Because this is the part I was meant to play. Just a player... just a shadow. No more, no less.”
Dancing Fire’s eyes softened, his shoulders heavy with understanding. Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and years of sacrifice.
On the day of my departure, I stood before him, my heart burdened with unspoken words, my soul worn from the weight of destiny. My voice was barely a whisper, fragile and fleeting like a dying breath. “It’s time for me to go.”
He did not look at me, his gaze fixed on the strip of leather clutched between his calloused fingers.
His lips were pressed in a thin line, his jaw set in concentration.
The sun danced on the blade of his knife as he sliced through the supple material, each strip a necessary fragment for the delicate dreamcatcher taking shape in his hands.
His brow furrowed, lost in the rhythm of his craft as if avoiding the finality of my words.
For a long moment, the only sound between us was the whisper of leather and the faint rustle of wind. Then, without lifting his eyes, he spoke, “The moon is full tonight. I knew this day would come. Where will you go?”
“To Elizabeth,” I murmured the name, a plea that clawed at my chest. “To the love of my life.” My voice trembled, rough with the ache of longing, a desire that grew fiercer each day.
Dancing Fire’s hands paused, his fingers brushing the half-formed dreamcatcher. A shadow crossed his face, the ghost of a longing he could never voice. His shoulders sagged just slightly before he nodded. “Then you must go. You’re fortunate to have someone waiting for you.”
“I know,” I replied, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.
I wanted to say more, to promise that one day he would find a love to heal his wounds.
But the words tasted hollow, false. I had no right to offer hope when my heart was heavy with doubt.
“One day... you’ll find someone to cure your pain. ”
He set the knife down, his fingers brushing the leather with a tenderness that broke my heart. His eyes met mine then, weary and ancient, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. “I cannot live in a future I cannot see. I can only survive in the now.”
Silence hung between us, heavy and final. I nodded, swallowing the promise I could never keep. There were no more words to say, no more comfort to offer. We were shadows in this cruel game, bound by fate and divided by destiny.
We pored over every intricate thread of the grand tapestry we were about to weave for hours. The air between us crackled with intensity as we mapped out each possible move, each potential betrayal, and I gave him everything—every scrap of knowledge I had gathered on Alina’s schemes and shadows.
She was a serpent in human skin—slippery, deceptive, and dangerous.
Her web of lies had ensnared many, her tongue silver with deceit, her steps always just beyond reach.
But together, Dancing Fire and I had evaded worse.
With his fierce resolve and my tireless pursuit of our endgame, I had no doubt—we would outwit her and claim what was rightfully ours.
Solaris.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in a wash of indigo and gold, we stood silently at the edge of the lake.
The moon crested the sky, full and bright, its silver light dancing on the still waters like celestial fire.
The sacred lake mirrored the heavens, a quiet witness to our parting.
Dancing Fire turned to me. He was clear-eyed and ancient, filled with all the wisdom of a man who had lived too long, lost too much, and still stood unbroken.
“The winds whisper of trials ahead,” he said, his voice low and resolute.
“But remember this—your heart burns brighter than any storm. Walk with purpose, Amir. Let the spirits guide your steps. If we meet again…” He paused, emotion flickering behind his stoicism. “Let it be with stories of triumph.”
A lump rose in my throat—rare, unwelcome, but undeniable. “And may your path be lit with wisdom, my brother. Even in darkness, your strength is a beacon. Whatever comes…” I reached out, gripping his arm tight, warrior to warrior. “I will carry the memory of your courage with me.”
Our eyes locked—a silent pact forged in fire and brotherhood.
Then I turned and walked into the dark, leaving behind the only man who truly understood the weight of what was coming.
And knowing—no matter how the winds raged, no matter what blood was spilled—this war would remember our names.