جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 140

Asaraiah Kaine — The ride back from the orchard felt like drifting through a dream and a nightmare stitched into one long thread. The sphere’s energy still hummed along my arms, settling beneath my skin like something alive. The glow had faded, but the aftershock remained — a heat that clung to my ribs, pulsing every few seconds, syncing with a heartbeat that was not entirely my own. I didn’t speak. Neither did Malrik. But he kept looking at me in the rear-view mirror — small glances at first, then longer ones, his eyes flicking to where I held my shaking hands clasped together in my lap. He looked like he wanted to reach over. Touch me. Anchor me. But he didn’t. His jaw was clenched like he was keeping something inside — words, instincts, hunger, fear. I didn’t know which one terrified him the most. The city blurred past, wet asphalt reflecting neon. A couple walked past the corner deli. A boy rolled a shopping cart full of stolen fireworks. Streetlights flickered, as if the

Asaraiah Kaine — The morning after the kiss, the world felt different. Not softer. Not brighter. Sharpened. As if every edge, every breath, every heartbeat had been carved with new precision. My body hummed with the aftermath of what we’d nearly done—what we’d nearly become—and even though Malrik tried to pretend nothing had changed, the entire mansion vibrated with the truth of it. He wouldn’t meet my eyes at breakfast. I didn’t force it. Not because I was shy—no part of me had ever been shy with him—but because my mind was already moving toward something darker. Something unavoidable. Seraphine’s whisper from the orchard had been circling me all night: Your mother didn’t die where they told you she did. She didn’t die the way they said she did. I hadn’t planned to move this fast. But destiny never cared about planning. So by noon, I was standing in front of the Montova estate again. The gates glared down at me like iron teeth. The guards stiffened when they saw me,

— ASARAIAH —The city looked different from the Kaine penthouse window.Not because it changed—no, the skyline was the same: neon veins of nightlife, glass towers reflecting danger, traffic lights pulsing like a heartbeat.The difference was me.Or maybe the difference was that everyone else finally felt what I’d become.I adjusted the cuffs of my black suit jacket, letting the fabric settle against my wrists. Not a dress tonight. Not a symbol, not a statement. Just iron disguised as silk.Below, the Kaine fleet waited—three SUVs, engines humming low like sleeping predators.A soft knock sounded at the door.Gaya.She pushed it open carefully. “They’re ready downstairs.”“Good.”She hesitated. “And you?”I met her gaze through the mirror. “I’m past ready.”She nodded, accepting the truth without needing reassurance. “Drayan is briefing the lieutenants. They’re… nervous.”“They should be.”“They’re also impressed.”I smirked faintly. “They’ll get used to it.”But Gaya didn’t move.Did

-Asaraiah Kaine — The night after the docks attack didn’t feel like a night at all. It felt like a warning stitched into the dark. The Kaine mansion hummed with tension—guards doubling their patrols, windows locked even though we were twelve floors up, Gaya carrying weapons the staff had never seen her touch. Drayan prowled the hallways like he expected something ancient to crawl out of the walls. And me? I couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t sit, couldn’t stand, couldn’t think straight. Every nerve felt tuned too tightly, stretched between two frequencies—my heartbeat and a second rhythm pulsing under it like a shadow heartbeat. Zenaida’s echo. She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t whispering. She wasn’t showing me visions. But she was awake. Alive inside me in a way she hadn’t been before. I tried to distract myself by rewrapping my knuckles, but even the brush of cloth on skin felt too loud. Too much. Too close. A knock sounded. Just one. Hard enough that my pulse spiked. Sof

-Asaraiah Kaine- Calla finally fell back asleep just before dawn, exhaustion dragging her under like an anchor tossed into deep water. I stayed by her bed until her breathing evened out, until the tremors stopped shaking her fingers, until her lashes stilled against her cheek. Then I slipped out quietly. The hallway was empty, washed in that pale grey light that always made everything look half-dead. My footsteps echoed in the silence—slow, deliberate, echoing through marble that suddenly felt too fragile under me. As if the mansion knew something was changing. As if I was the thing it needed to brace itself for. I stopped in front of the long mirror at the end of the corridor again. I shouldn’t have looked. But I did. My reflection blinked back. Not haunting. Not ghostly. Not wrong. Just… different. The red ring in my irises had deepened overnight—ruby sharpened into garnet, thin as the edge of a knife. I leaned in, palms pressed against the cool glass. “Who am I becom