Novel-novel oleh Renaye H

Chapter thirteen Malik had ruled hellfire without hesitation.But nothing had ever terrified him like standing still.The ancestors did not summon him the way they had Sarai. They did not flood him with visions or tear truth into his bones. Instead, they waited—silent, unmoving—until he felt the absence of his power like a missing limb.That was when he understood.This wasn’t about what he could do.It was about what he was willing to lose.“You want to know your place,” the elder ancestor said, voice low and ancient. “So listen carefully.”The lost realm shifted, folding inward, isolating Malik from Sarai and Aunt Dee. Not a prison—an examination.Malik clenched his fists. “If this is about whether I’ll abandon them—”“It is not,” the ancestor interrupted. “You already chose.”The ground beneath Malik’s feet turned reflective, like dark glass. Images rose from it—not memories, but futures.He saw Sarai standing tall, her power controlled, her eyes steady.He saw the child grown—not

Chapter twelve The circle of ancestors tightened.Not physically—spiritually.The air grew dense, heavy with intention, and Sarai felt the weight of generations press into her spine. These were not distant spirits. These were mothers who had buried daughters, fathers who had sealed their own magic away, bloodlines that had chosen silence over extinction.“You will not be taught like the others,” an elder voice said, deeper than the rest. “Because you do not carry power alone.”Sarai clutched her stomach as another wave rolled through her, the child responding—recognizing the presence around them. The symbols etched into the air shifted, rearranging themselves into something sharper, more precise.“You are the vessel,” the ancestor continued. “But the child is the anchor.”Malik stiffened. “Anchor to what?”The ancestors turned as one.“To balance.”The word struck the realm like a bell. The ground answered with a low tremor, and distant structures—ruins Sarai hadn’t noticed before—ro

Chapter eleven The moment Malik’s knee touched the ground, the lost realm listened.Not like a witness.Like a judge.The air thickened, pressing inward, and Sarai felt it first in her chest an ache sharp enough to steal her breath. The baby shifted hard, a pulse rolling through her womb, and the ground beneath them rippled outward in slow, deliberate waves.The watchers stepped back as one.No one spoke.No one dared.Sarai reached for Malik, panic flaring. “You don’t have to”“Yes,” he said, cutting her off gently, his voice steady but stripped bare. “I do.”He looked up at her then, and the mask he wore for the world confidence, charm, the devil’s smirk was gone. What remained was raw and frightening in its honesty.“I’ve ruled by fear,” Malik continued. “By deals and debts and bloodlines. I’ve taken souls who begged and laughed while I did it.” His jaw tightened. “But loving you? That wasn’t conquest. That wasn’t hunger.”The realm hummed.A low vibration rolled through the color

**CHAPTER nine The warning came from Sarai’s blood before it came from the world. She woke screaming, hands clutching her stomach, a sharp, unfamiliar pain slicing through her like ice. The realm answered immediately—walls pulsing, wards flaring, shadows snapping into place like soldiers called to attention. Malik was at her side before her scream finished echoing. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, already scanning the room, fire burning low beneath his skin. Sarai shook her head, breath coming fast. “It’s not pain like before,” she gasped. “It’s… memory.” Her vision fractured. Suddenly she wasn’t in the hidden realm. She was standing in a ruined house on Earth—her childhood home. The walls were scorched, furniture overturned, blood staining the floor where laughter used to live. She smelled smoke, heard echoes of voices long gone, and then— A woman stepped out of the shadows. Her mother. Not as Sarai remembered her in sickness or death, but strong, eyes sharp, spirit

CHAPTER EIGHTThe realm didn’t heal after the Hunters left.It bruised.Hairline fractures crawled along the obsidian ground, glowing faintly like veins beneath skin, and the wards Aunt Dee had layered over centuries flickered as if unsure they still wanted to exist. Sarai sat cross-legged at the center of the room, breathing slowly, palms open, sweat cooling on her spine.Every breath felt heavier than the last.Malik watched from the shadows, jaw clenched, because he could feel it too—the way her presence bent the space around her now. The way the baby’s aura pressed outward like a tide that didn’t know how to recede.“You can’t keep burning yourself like that,” he said finally, and his voice was calm, but the fire under his skin betrayed him.“I didn’t burn,” Sarai replied quietly. “I anchored.”“That’s worse,” Aunt Dee cut in, reinforcing a cracked sigil. “Anchoring ties you to the realm. The more you do it, the harder it’ll be to leave.”Sarai’s hand drifted to her stomach. “Mayb

CHAPTER SEVENThe first breach didn’t announce itself with fire or screams.It announced itself with silence.Sarai felt it before anyone else did a wrongness slipping under her skin, thin as a blade, sharp as a lie. The baby went still inside her, not asleep but alert, and that alone made her heart begin to pound.Something had crossed a line.She straightened where she stood, fingers curling instinctively, and the faint glow that had lingered in her palms dimmed. The forbidden word still echoed faintly in her bones, but now it felt… disturbed. Like a bell struck underwater.Aunt Dee looked up sharply from the ward circle she was reinforcing. “You felt that too.”Sarai nodded. “They didn’t force their way in.”Malik was already moving, shadows snapping tight around his shoulders as his senses stretched outward. “No,” he said grimly. “They were invited.”The word landed heavy.“Invited by who?” Sarai asked, though dread already coiled in her stomach.Before either of them could answer