CHAPTER 35: A MIRAGE

  Helel did not let go of her shoulders.

  “Suryel.” He said again, slower now, voice lowered until it was almost a vibration instead of a sound. His hands were firm, anchoring, thumbs warm where they rested near her shoulder. “Tell me.”

  His eyes searched her face with the same precision he used on battlefields, scanning micro-flinches, breath stutters, the way her pupils refused to settle. “Who hurt you?”

  Suryel’s vision warped.

  Light smeared at the edges as if the corridor itself had been dunked underwater. Her eyes burned, tears threatening but not quite falling, held back by something tighter than fear.

  She grabbed his wrist with both hands, fingers digging in like she might disappear if she didn’t keep contact.

  “No, the blood isn’t mine.” She said quickly, shaking her head, words tumbling over each other. “It was… it was—”

  Her sentence collapsed under the weight of what surged up instead.

  The memories did not arrive gently. They tore through her consciousness like an infection finally breaking skin.

  A warm hand, impossibly gentle, resting on her head.

  An innocent noise, humming, skipping and echoing through walls.

  Samael’s smile, sharp and knowing, stretched too wide.

  The cold flash of a blade catching with a sharp light.

  A child’s confusion turning to terror, pain blooming too fast to understand.

  A sad smile that didn’t belong on someone so small.

  Then light.

  Too much light.

  Shattering, scattering, unmaking.

  Suryel’s breath hitched hard. The realization landed with crushing finality, heavy enough to knock the air from her lungs.

  She hadn’t just seen it.

  She had lived it— She was the child who died.

  Her hands flew to her head as if she could physically hold the thought in place, stop it from tearing her apart. Her gaze dropped to the ivory floor, patterns blurring as her knees buckled.

  She collapsed, strength abandoning her without ceremony, body folding in on itself as tremors took over.

  Helel moved instantly.

  He went down with her, one knee hitting the floor as he caught her weight, arms wrapping around her torso before she could crumple completely.

  He shifted so she leaned against him instead of the ground, his presence a solid warm, breathing wall at her back.

  She wanted to speak.

  Desperately.

  To tell him what she saw, to explain the horror now clawing at her chest. She wanted to look up at him and say a name.

  Wanted to ask him to hunt Samael down and tear answers out of him.

  Even as denial whispered that it wasn’t really her.

  That it couldn’t be.

  Her thoughts scattered.

  Hundreds of half-formed sentences collided in her head, none of them strong enough to escape her mouth.

  Meaning slipped through her grasp every time she reached for it.

  Then pain bloomed low in her abdomen.

  Not sharp.

  Not fresh.

  Echoing.

  A pressure pulsed at her navel, deep and wrong, like the ghost of a wound that had never existed and yet had always been there.

  A mirrored scar of something she had never been meant to remember.

  She laughed, deep in denial.

  The sound came out thin, fractured, nothing like humor.

  “No, no way.” she said, pinching the skin of her arms hard enough to sting, grounding herself in sensation as panic crested. “This isn’t real, I’m asleep.”

  “This is just an elaborate dream, like always. A really complicated, messed up dream.” Her words sped up, tripping over themselves. “These aren’t memories. Wake up. Wake up, wake up—”

  “Suryel.” Helel caught her hands gently but firmly, fingers closing around her fingertips to stop her from hurting herself.

  He didn’t yank.

  Didn’t force.

  Just held, steady and unyielding warmth, testing whether she would pull away.

  She didn’t.

  The corridor started responding to her unraveling.

  The ivory walls seemed to tilt, lines bending and wavering as if reality itself had lost confidence.

  Light pulsed erratically overhead.

  The space felt too narrow, too wide, wrong in every direction.

  Suryel sucked in a breath that didn’t feel like enough.

  Panic flooded her chest, thick and suffocating. She lifted her head, eyes wild as she searched for something stable. Someone. Anyone.

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  Her gaze locked onto Helel.

  The familiar nightmare.

  A constant chaos.

  The one presence she trusted until she realized, in multiple times that she shouldn’t. She reached for him with shaking hands.

  “Helel, please—” She gasped, clutching at his arm, fingers fisting in the fabric. “Please be good. I can’t breathe—” Her throat closed, a sharp choking sound cutting her plea short. “Help.”

  “Shhh.” Helel didn’t hesitate. He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her fully this time. “I’m here.”

  He pressed her head against his chest, right over his heart, one hand cradling the back of her head. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders, cloak folding in around them both.

  “Breathe with me, you’re not alone.” He murmured, voice low and steady, timed deliberately with slow inhales. “Just like this”

  He held her face, gently but firmly. “Take a quick deep breath, then a slow exhale.” He smiled when her eyes focused on his. “See? It worked. Good job, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

  He tightened the cloak, enclosing her in warmth, shielding her from the corridor and whatever else might be watching. His body rocked gently from side to side, a rhythm older than words.

  “Nothing here will harm you.” He said quietly, promise woven into every syllable. “I won’t allow it.”

  The corridor obeyed him.

  The walls stilled.

  The light steadied.

  The air settled as her heartbeat gradually slowed to match his.

  Helel hummed under his breath, a soft, familiar tune he hadn’t sung in centuries, one he knew lived somewhere deep in her bones. His forehead rested against hers, grounding, unmovable.

  Then, so quietly it was almost swallowed by the hum, he added. “I will make sure that bastard pay.”

  “No.” Suryel’s fingers clenched tighter in his cloak. Her voice broke, dissolving into sobs she hadn’t meant to release. “Stay. Just stay here.”

  “I want to sleep.” She burrowed closer, face pressed into his side. “Please, stay here, just hold me until I wake up.”

  He froze for half a heartbeat.

  Every instinct screamed to ask.

  To push.

  To name the fear so he could destroy it.

  Though he already had one name.

  “Okay.” Helel said instead, adjusting his position so they were both more comfortable on the floor. He crossed his legs and tugged the cloak securely around her legs, cocooning her completely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He hesitated, then added softly, “So… don’t cry.”

  He rubbed her hands between his, transferring warmth, brushing away the faint traces of gold-tinged blood staining her skin. His eyes lingered there longer than necessary. His mind was already making a list.

  First: Samael. That beady-eyed bastard.

  Second: Whoever had made her bleed in this corridor.

  Third: Whoever had been involved in making him forget.

  The air shifted. A sound echoed down the corridor, low and resonant, like a door opening somewhere it shouldn’t exist. A serpentine hum slithered along the walls, vibrating through the ivory stone.

  Shadows gathered where corners should have been, curling unnaturally as if drawn toward her lingering fear. A figure stepped forward, half-formed, remaining just inside the darkness.

  Samael.

  Not physical. Not fully present. But unmistakable.

  A Shade— Malice distilled into memory, its presence scraping against the senses. Claws of intent glinted, silver-dark against the light.

  “Well, well, well.” Samael purred, voice echoing through the corridor like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. “Isn’t this the sweetest sight to behold?”

  His gaze locked onto Suryel. Teeth bared in something that was not quite a smile. “You’ve grown, Suryel.” He said softly. “Shame you still bleed the same way.”

  Suryel shrank back instinctively, burying her face against Helel’s side. Her voice trembled. “How… how is he here?”

  “He’s a Shade.” Helel muttered.

  He rose carefully to his feet, never loosening his hold on her.

  He positioned himself, left side angled outward, body forming an unspoken barrier between Suryel and the creature in front of them. “Don’t worry. He’s not dangerous since I am here.”

  She nodded, jaw tight, eyes peeking past his shoulder despite herself, before she digged further back.

  Fear flickered there.

  Helel saw it.

  His grip tightened. Protective. Furious.

  He turned his head slightly, kept his eyes on Samael as he spoke to her. “Is that him?” His voice was firm but gentle. “Is he the one who hurt you?”

  The corridor seemed to hold its breath.

  Suryel swallowed.

  She found just enough courage to lean out from behind him, gaze sharpening as she studied the Shade. “He didn’t hurt me…” She said slowly. Then, with sudden force, she pointed. “But did I saw him.” Her voice cracked. “I saw him kill a child!”

  Silence fell.

  A sentence that carried the weight of a death warrant.

  Helel let out one dry, humorless laugh.

  Then his expression darkened, focus narrowing until the world reduced to a single target. “Stay behind me.” He pressed a tender kiss to Suryel’s knuckles. “I’ll keep you safe.” He said gently.

  The Shade faltered.

  Just barely.

  Then it smiled wider.

  “How do you know she’s your sister?” Samael crooned, head tilting. “And not… The one who hurt her?”

  The ivory wall behind them shimmered. A memory unfolded.

  Suryel watching her younger self.

  Yellow flowers braided into small hands.

  Innocence spilling secrets as she followed, unseen.

  The moment her younger self collapsed to the floor.

  Helel’s body went rigid.

  Suryel stumbled back, tearing her hand from his grasp. “No!” She whispered, horrified. “That’s a lie. I would never—”

  Helel closed his eyes.

  A single breath left him, sharp and controlled.

  When he opened them again, his voice was ice. “Did you really think you can play me?” He grabbed Suryel’s hand, pulling her back to him before she could retreat further. “That I would doubt my own sister?”

  She squeaked softly in surprise.

  He softened just enough to smile at her. “Suryel. I know who you are.” Then added with hinted sadness. “I will not be moved by some distorted memory.”

  “Stay here. Wait. Or I will chase you.” He joked, trying to soothe her into calm.

  The corridor pulsed with heat— Controlled anger, the one that had made whole armies shut up and pray.

  “As for you, Shade.” He shot Samael a glare that could have shattered stone. “You’re not getting out of this memory intact.”

  Helel stepped forward.

  A blade materialized in his hand.

  “You have no choice.” He said calmly, “But to let us out.”

  And with the weight of centuries behind it—

  He swung.