Page 69 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

Morning brought no relief from my troubled thoughts. I picked at my breakfast, unable to focus. Melo had returned to my chambers just before dawn, refusing to discuss whatever had transpired between her and Sarp, though something had changed in her manner—a lightness I hadn’t seen in centuries.

The revelation that Hakan had been under a spell when he’d left me had shaken foundations I thought immovable. If he truly hadn’t known what had happened to me, did that change anything?

No, I decided firmly. Spell or no spell, he had chosen power over love.

A soft knock interrupted my brooding. Melo lifted her head, ears alert. She was back being in her fox form again.

“Lady Narin,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “Again.”

Narin entered with quiet grace, her gown of deep purple flowing and rippling with each step. The representative of House Kaya—one of the ancient shadow families with the deepest ties to the old magic—carried herself with the confidence of one who'd survived centuries of Shadow Court politics. Darkness wreathed around her form, but there was something deliberate in her display of power today. “You look troubled, light-bearer,” she observed, taking a seat without invitation.

“Dreams,” I stated.

She studied me, then withdrew a small roll of parchment sealed with black wax. The seal itself caught my attention—not Narin’s personal mark, but something older, a sigil I recognized from ancient texts: the emblem of the Shadow Resistance, a faction that had opposed Erlik’s rise to power centuries ago.

“I came with an offer that requires an immediate decision.”

“What offer?”

“Escape.” She placed the parchment between us. “There are those of us who remember what the shadow realm was meant to be—a balance to light, not its destruction. We have worked in secret for generations, preserving the old ways. We oppose Erlik’s corruption and his son’s ambition.”

I didn’t touch the parchment. “Why would you help me?”

“Because the ritual Hakan plans will not only destroy you but will corrupt the shadow realm further,” she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned closer. “The Crown of Ashes Ritual was perverted from its original purpose. If he consumes your light as his father intends, he will disrupt the delicate balance between realms that has existed since the beginning. He will become something far worse than Erlik—a being of pure shadow with no humanity left.”

I thought of Sarp’s revelation—the memory spell, Hakan’s guilt without understanding. “And if I refuse your help?”

“Then you place your fate in the hands of a man who has already sacrificed you once for power,” she said, her eyes never leaving mine. “A man whose soul is divided between what he was born to be and what his father has made him.” She leaned forward. “The parchment contains a map to hidden pathways beneath the palace—passages that predate even Erlik’s rule. They lead beyond the shadow realm, to places where neither Hakan nor his father could follow.”

My heartbeat quickened. Freedom. A chance to return to Kiraz, to take her somewhere safe.

“What if Hakan isn’t planning to sacrifice me?” I asked. “What if he’s seeking another way?”

“A comforting fantasy,” Narin said, not unkindly. “I’ve watched the prince grow from boy to monster. I’ve seen what remains of his humanity diminish year by year.” Her fingers traced the edge of the parchment. “But ask yourself this—has he ever chosen you over power before? When it truly mattered, where did his loyalty lie?”

The words struck with cruel accuracy. “When?” I asked, decision forming. “When can I leave?”

“Tonight,” she mused, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “When the palace sleeps. The map will guide you to an entrance near the old library. Bring nothing but yourself.”

“Where would I go?”

“To the Twilight Sanctuary,” she explained, and rose. “Hidden in the borderlands between shadow and light, where the ancient balance is still preserved. Those like us have gathered there for centuries, waiting for the moment when equilibrium might be restored.”

Her hand on the door, she paused. “Choose wisely, light-bearer. Not all enemies are obvious, and not all who offer help have pure intentions.”

With that, she slipped out, leaving me with the sealed parchment.

“Well,” Melo said, and transformed to her human form in a flash of golden light, her anxiety about our potential escape sharp enough to trigger the change. “That was both dramatic and suspiciously vague.”

“Do you think it’s a trap?” I asked.

“Almost certainly,” she said, examining the seal more closely. “The question is, whose trap? This seal matches descriptions from the ancient texts—the mark of the Shadow Resistance that disappeared nearly a century ago. Either Narin has access togenuine artifacts, or she’s studied the old records as thoroughly as we have.”

I broke the seal, unrolling the parchment to reveal an intricate map drawn in silver ink that seemed to shift as if alive. The lines pulsed with their own subtle glow, revealing passages that appeared and disappeared when I watched—a map enchanted to show different paths depending on the phase of the moon and the alignment of magical energies. Passages spread beneath the palace like roots, extending far beyond the grounds.

“These aren’t just physical tunnels,” I whispered. I recognized the ancient magical notation. “They’re pathways between realms—tears in the fabric of reality that existed before the separation of shadow and light. If this is real… Tonight,” I murmured, and studied the map. “We could be with Kiraz tomorrow.”

“If the map is genuine,” Melo cautioned. “If Narin’s offer is sincere.”

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