“And now, Amir, you will be the weapon that ends them.”
A surge of revulsion twisted in my gut, my jaw tightening.“Sick fucks,” I muttered, my hands clenching into fists.
“Indeed,” Lazarus said, his tone heavy with disgust.“They were once masters of alchemy.But now?Now, they are the worst of the worst.The depraved.You must go to England.”
“England…” I echoed, the name leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.“How will I kill them?”
“Infiltration,” Lazarus replied.“You can’t simply walk in and expect to succeed.You must become one of them first.”
He hesitated for a moment before continuing, his expression dark with amusement.“They sent us a letter.They believe we are the Timehunter society of Anatolia.Thomas Alexander has asked for our aid—to help destroy the masked man decimating Timehunter societies.”
I stilled.
Lazarus’ lips curled slightly.“They fear England will be next.They want to ally with you, Amir—to kill the Black Wraith.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it—low, dark, edged with something almost feral.Across the table, Lazarus let out a chuckle of his own.
The irony was too rich.
Me.Amir Hassan.Tasked with hunting the Black Wraith.
The very legend I had created.
Lazarus’ gaze locked onto mine, cold and calculating.“Moon Lee will not be joining you this time.I have sent him back home to be with his people.You will have your other men.”
His tone left no room for protest.
He stepped closer, his voice resolute.“They believe Anatolia is a ruthless Timehunter society.They’ve asked for our help and are eager to ally.You will go as Lord Amir Hassan.Infiltrate.Gain their trust.Find a tactic with your men, to destroy their society.It’s a perfect plan.Accept their invitation.You’re the hooded figure—play the game, don’t break your cover.Destroy them and move on.”
“Understood.Destroy and move on,” I echoed the words, a mantra that had become second nature.
Lazarus’ lips curled slightly.“Remember, the English society is closely tied to Mathias and Salvatore.Mathias believes you are dead.He thinks the fire at his school killed you.”There was an edge of satisfaction in his voice.
I rose to my feet, the power from my rebirth still thrumming in my veins, a gift wrenched from agony and venom.“I won’t let you down,” I said, my voice a low growl, filled with certainty.
As I turned to leave, I remained oblivious to the unseen threads of fate tightening around me.
England would be more than just another battleground.
In its shadowed heart, something far more dangerous than any enemy awaited—something that would change everything.
ChapterThree
ELIZABETH
Itraced the intricate carvings on my mahogany bedpost, following each swirl and whirl as they twisted into delicate points.My fingers lingered on the cool wood before I pushed myself up from the sea of silk sheets that had become a shroud for my sorrow.Morning light filtered through the sheer drapes, casting a soft glow on the ornate wallpaper adorned with golden fleur-de-lis.My bedroom was a sanctuary of luxury within our vast estate, yet no opulence could thaw the bitter chill of desolation that clung to me.
My gaze drifted to the vacant chairs by the small table near the fireplace.Just weeks ago, laughter and jest had filled those seats—my brothers, so full of life, their voices carrying through the room.Now, silence reigned, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire my maid had lit to chase away the dampness of an English morning.They had gone to a party, an evening of revelry and indulgence—and it had become their end.Poison, the staff had whispered when they thought no one was listening.But who?Why?The unanswered questions festered, their weight pressing against my ribs like iron shackles.
Memories swarmed me; each one was a ghost haunting the corners of my room, offering fleeting solace from the crushing isolation that threatened to smother me.
And then there was Father.His silence had become a barren echo in the wake of my brothers’ deaths, a reminder that his love had never been mine to claim.They had been his heirs, his champions, the pride of our family’s enigmatic Timehunter legacy—a legacy that felt more like a curse than an honor.But his withdrawal had begun long before their demise, back when Mother still lingered between this world and the next.Her final days were seared into my soul—the image of her struggling for breath as consumption ravaged her body, her frail hand trembling in mine.
They had all slipped away one by one, leaving me adrift in the vast, suffocating emptiness of what remained.
When I was barely a teen, my mother had been confined to her bed, swallowed by the sterile white linens that seemed to mock the vibrancy she once possessed.I remembered clutching her hand, feeling the frailty of her bones beneath my fingers, listening to the labored gasps that fought against the oppressive silence of the room.I would read to her, my voice trembling, a feeble attempt to soothe the rattling cough that marked the slow, merciless advance of her disease.Her sky-blue eyes—so much like my own—dimmed with each passing day until, at last, they closed forever.
Her death was the first fracture, the first jagged crack splintering through our family.My father and brothers withdrew into themselves, into the dangerous allure of their secretive society, leaving me alone to navigate the ruins of what we once were.To them, I became a porcelain doll—too fragile, too breakable to be exposed to the world they thrived in.And yet, that very world had annihilated them, too, leaving me the sole survivor of our shattered home.
