Welcome to Redwaters - 14. Chapter 14

 

The Redwaters River stretched out before Sienna, shimmering under the silvery moonlight. The humid night air enveloped her body as she stood motionless on the bank. Her eyes followed the relentless current, each movement of the water capturing her attention. She felt the youth and vitality of her new body, that of Rose, like a rekindled flame, even though her powers were still restrained.

She stood there, frozen, but her mind was boiling with tumultuous memories and thoughts. The recent confrontation with Hadrian mingled with reminiscences of her past. A cryptic smile curved her lips as she recalled Hadrian’s suffering, a sadistic satisfaction she still savored. But what haunted her most was the intoxicating power she had felt when she siphoned Zain’s abilities. The boy’s memories, intertwined with that raw energy, resonated within her. The image of the mysterious portal through which Zain had arrived at Redwaters floated in her mind. He was undoubtedly the key to her return from the dead.

Sienna closed her eyes, savoring the echo of that energy within her. Under the benevolent moonlight, she was both witch and reborn soul, an entity in search of power and revenge. She held her breath. If Zain’s powers had been enough to bring her back, perhaps she could use them to bring back her coven and reclaim her own body. She knew Hadrian, Fleur, and their group would try to stop her, but nothing could divert her from her goal. Zain, with his extraordinary powers, would be the key to her revenge, and she was ready to do anything to reclaim the life that had been taken from her.

The calm of the night was suddenly torn apart by a rising roar, like the imminent arrival of a storm. Leaves rustled, branches cracked, and Sienna looked up. A luminous whirlwind split the sky, projecting blinding flashes and sweeping the clearing with a raging gust.

She squinted, trying to pierce through the dazzling brightness. A portal, she thought, her heart pounding. The light condensed into a blazing vortex, and a figure emerged, swirling through the air before crashing heavily to the ground. The portal abruptly closed, leaving behind a deceptive tranquility.

Sienna stepped forward, her eyes slowly adjusting to the returned darkness. There, lying among the wind-bent grasses, was a young man. He was nearly six foot four, his mid-length hair and beard perfectly framing his square jaw. His imposing musculature was accentuated by a bronze armor, a relic from a seemingly distant era, and his piercing purple eyes shone with a supernatural intensity.
Raad was there. The warrior and crown prince of the Peris had finally arrived to Redwaters, in search of his missing brother. Emerging from the paranormal journey, he rose painfully, still disoriented.

Sienna observed him intensely. Rejuvenated by inhabiting Rose's body, she was aroused by the undeniable attraction of his imposing figure. What fascinated her most was the violet iridescence tinting his eyes, an unmistakable sign of his origin relating to Zain’s universe.

She smiled, realizing that Raad could be an unexpected ally in her quest to capture the boy.

 

——————————

 

Zain felt the repeated kicks assaulting his ribs from all sides, like knives piercing his bones. Each impact resonated through his body, a painful echo of the raw violence raining down on him. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth before he spat out a scarlet spray onto the high school hallway floor. The insults poured down with the same intensity as the blows, grating in his ears like a symphony of hatred.

He felt alien to his own body, like a helpless spectator floating above the scene. Horrified, he watched the brutality tearing him apart, feeling his heart pounding with such fury that he feared it would explode in his chest.

This senseless and unjust hatred that relentlessly struck him seemed determined to engulf his soul. He saw his own body twisting in pain, bathed in a pool of blood, each attack pushing him inexorably toward a dire end.

Air grew scarce, his lungs burned. On the brink of suffocation, Zain suddenly woke up with a start, gasping for breath. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains of Hadrian's room.

It was just a nightmare...

No, a vivid and cruel memory of the assault he had suffered the night before.

His trembling hands brushed over the still-fresh marks on his bare body, a painful reminder of the horror he had endured.

Alerted by Zain's violent awakening, Hadrian emerged from his sleep, his eyes still heavy with fatigue. He quickly sat up, his senses on alert, and gently placed his hands on the boy's trembling back.

"Zain, it's all right, it was just a bad dream, he murmured in a reassuring voice, trying to calm the visible terror in his lover's eyes.

But Zain was shaking uncontrollably, as if the blows from the previous day had taken hold of his body and mind again, plunging him back into that waking nightmare. Hadrian, still behind him, carefully adjusted his position. He embraced Zain gently, his arms wrapping around him with infinite tenderness, careful not to smother him.

Hadrian's words flowed like a balm, seeking to penetrate the fortress of fear and pain that imprisoned Zain.

"I'm here, you're not alone. It's over now." Each sentence was a silent promise of protection and support. Hadrian could feel Zain's frantic heartbeat slowly calming, the frenetic rhythm finally giving way to a semblance of peace.

Gradually, Zain began to breathe more regularly, finding refuge in Hadrian's reassuring presence. The terrifying memories of the previous night faded, replaced by human warmth and newfound safety. Hadrian remained silent, his embrace unwavering, determined to watch over Zain until the last vestige of fear disappeared.

Zain slowly turned his face toward Hadrian, tearing himself from the mists of the unreal to cling to the tangible presence of the immortal. The present moment reclaimed its rights, anchored by the quiet strength of his lover, and the memories of their night of passion emerged, eclipsing the violence. The previous night had been the most terrible, yet also the most sublime, of his life.

Hadrian's features evoked an ethereal beauty. Through the memory of their embrace, where their souls and bodies had united in perfect symbiosis, Zain's torments evaporated. He rested his head against his lover's chest, finding absolute comfort in this closeness.

Lying together on the bed, Zain could feel Hadrian's heart pounding furiously against his cheek. The immortal's heartbeat resonated like a reassuring melody. Hadrian's fingers gently slipped through Zain's hair, weaving a web of tenderness that enveloped them, erasing all traces of pain.

Hadrian had experienced many fleeting adventures, brief pleasures where well-defined roles helped him maintain a sense of control, managing the persistent shame of his own condition, a shame that even the passage of centuries hadn’t erased. But the previous night, he had felt no doubt, no apprehension, not the slightest hesitation, even when Zain had explored territories no other man had ventured. In many ways, their embrace was a first for him. And that morning, after five hundred years of existence, he no longer felt burdened by a curse but fortunate to have arrived at this precise moment, with Zain nestled against him, a feeling he would now be ready to protect against all odds… and all enemies...

"You know... we will eventually need to talk... about what happened..." Hadrian said, his face marked by concern.

"I’m not the one with issues sharing, if I remember correctly..." Zain replied, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips.

"I wasn’t talking about us... but about what happened to you last night..."

"I know... I was just trying to deflect..." Zain admitted before continuing. "It was a group of students from the opposing team. I’d already had an altercation with them earlier in the day... They were making these horrible comments about the girls on my squad... They surrounded me after the game and attacked me before I even realized what was happening..."

Zain could feel Hadrian's heartbeat quicken as he recounted the story, an undeniable sign of his growing frustration with the ordeal.

"And while I was on the ground... helpless... assaulted from all sides... it was like something primal activated in me... I got up and managed to turn the situation around... I gave them a taste of their own medicine... with a level of violence that, in hindsight, might seem excessive... I didn’t injure any of them fatally or anything... but I did hurt them …bad, and I have to admit I have no regrets, Hadrian... none."

"I have none either," Hadrian confessed, placing a kiss on Zain's forehead, his warm breath mingling with the young man's cool skin.

"Everything seems so much easier here." Zain murmured, snuggling closer to him, savoring this stolen moment. "In this room, just the two of us. I wish we never had to leave."

Hadrian held him tighter, as if to etch this moment into eternity.

"Then let's stay in" he whispered, his voice gentle as a caress. "You don't have school today.."

Zain sighed.

"I promised Simone I'd help her pick out a dress for the gala her mom and stepfather are hosting tonight, honoring local businesses," he reluctantly explained, the thought of leaving Hadrian seeming unbearable.

Hadrian sat up slightly, a wry smile on his lips. "I forgot about the gala... I'm supposed to attend tonight."

Zain raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do you have a local business you're hiding?"

Hadrian chuckled softly. "No, I just annually give them a Check to support their activities. So, whenever I'm in town, I drop by. Want to come with me?" he proposed, the idea of having Zain on his arm making the event infinitely more appealing.

Zain's eyes widened with surprise and joy. "You mean… go together? A night in tuxedos for both of us? Let me think... yes!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement.

Hadrian tenderly stroked Zain's hair.

"Take my card and find yourself something nice to wear when you go see Simonne," he offered, his fingers idly playing with a stray lock.

Zain chuckled mischievously. "If I'd known making love together would get me a proper black tie date and unsupervised access to your credit card, I would have done it sooner," he joked.

Hadrian burst out laughing before kissing him tenderly. Zain moved atop him, their naked bodies pressing against each other as their mouths locked in burning passion.

Their muscles twitched under the intensity of their embrace.

But just as Hadrian's hands trailed along Zain's back, a shrill notification sound interrupted them abruptly, pulling them out of their enchanted bubble.

Hadrian grabbed his phone, his face suddenly creased with concern, and read the message Ouray had just sent him: "Library - You and Zain - right now!"

Zain glanced worriedly at Hadrian.

"Tell me it's just a spam from your phone service..." he murmured, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. But seeing Hadrian's serious reaction, he understood that their tender morning was coming to an end.

————

In the library, a heavy atmosphere hung like a stifling veil. Darcey, still in her white ensemble from the previous day, stood with her hands on her hips, her mind racing after discovering Zain's identity through the inscriptions on the board. She had waited for Ouray with a mix of impatience and fear. Fleur's grandmother then confronted her former lover and now hoped to get more answers once Hadrian and Zain joined them to fill in the blanks.

Ouray, seated in an armchair, tried to remain calm. Despite the early hour, he sipped on whiskey, his thoughts tormented by the possibility that Darcey might relay this information to the secretive Order to which she belonged. He knew the hidden designs of this clandestine organization could jeopardize Zain if his extraordinary powers and origins were ever discovered. He also dreaded Hadrian's reaction. A fierce protector of Zain, the immortal was never level headed when it came to the boy's safety.

The wait became unbearable. Darcey and Ouray's gazes met, each lost in their own anxieties mixed with lingering questions from their past romance. Darcey had come to the manor that evening to have an honest conversation with the shaman about her feelings for him, but the disturbing revelation of Zain's identity had overshadowed everything...

The library door suddenly swung open, slamming loudly against the wall. Fleur burst into the room, her eyes shining with feverish concern. She had just received an identical message to the one sent to Hadrian.

Her eyes swept the room and settled on Ouray and Darcey, whose faces were marked with seriousness. Intrigued, she asked sharply, "What's going on?"

Ouray, motionless and silent, allowed Darcey to speak. Lips pursed, she exclaimed, "My own granddaughter... How could you hide something like this?!"

Fleur, troubled, turned to Ouray, asking, "Ouray, what is she talking about exactly?"

Darcey, her face contorted with frustration, burst out, "Zain? The young boy straight from Europe is actually… the Decipherer Prince? ! And what about your nightmare that brought Hadrian and Ouray back to town? And the list goes on!"

Fleur cast a panicked look at Ouray, hoping to find support, but he simply took a long sip of whiskey, head bowed, avoiding her gaze.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them with determination. Taking a deep breath, she replied firmly, "Since we're on the topic of revelations, I don't think you're in any position to criticize the secrets I've kept, given the ones you've hidden from me all my life!"

Darcey looked perplexed, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What exactly are you talking about?"

Fleur met her gaze with assurance, and with a theatrical gesture of her hand, she pointed at both Ouray and Darcey, "Your love affair, to begin with."

Darcey's eyes widened in shock. Turning abruptly to Ouray, she asked, her voice trembling, "Did you tell her about our relationship?!"

But before he could respond, Fleur intervened calmly, "No, he kept your secret. I just glimpsed one of his memories as a side effect of a spell we cast..."

Even more perplexed, Darcey asked, "What spell?"

Fleur replied absentmindedly , "Ouray entered my subconscious to access my nightmare..."

"Your subconscious?! You're completely insane to mess with that!" Darcey exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger. Turning to the shaman, she continued, "You know the dangers of such rituals, you could have killed her!"

Exhausted by the reprimands, Ouray replied hoarsely, "And you know your granddaughter! It was either accompany her or watch her attempt it alone and never return!"

At her wit's end, Darcey walked to the bar and poured herself a glass of whiskey in silence. Revelations were crashing down on her like a storm, realizing that her granddaughter and her gang were involved in irresponsible and dangerous acts beyond her comprehension.

At that moment, Hadrian and Zain entered the library, their smiles fading instantly at the stern faces of Ouray, Fleur, and Darcey.

Zain asked innocently, "What's going on?"

Hadrian, scanning the room, abruptly stopped at the board covered with inscriptions revealing Zain's powers. With a tight voice, he replied, "She knows..."

Zain furrowed his brow with apprehension. Yet deep down, an intuition urged him to trust Darcey. Their brief conversation the previous night had softened him, and the idea of her discovering his secret didn't seem as dire as Hadrian seemed to think.

Darcey stood facing them, placing her glass down, arms crossed, her piercing gaze fixed on Zain's.

"Yes, I know," she declared firmly. "How and why could you hide such information from me?! Hundreds of mediums around the globe have had visions warning of disruptions threatening our universe, depicting the arrival of beings foreign to our world, jeopardizing the very balance of our reality, and you, you hide the source?! Even better, it seems Hadrian is openly dating the source!" Darcey exclaimed indignantly.

"I didn't come here to jeopardize the balance of your world..." Zain tried to justify himself.

"Then why are you here? The Decipherer Prince doesn't just appear in this backwater town of North Carolina!" Darcey declared.

"I don't even know what that title 'Decipherer Prince' means! I arrived here a few weeks ago, with no memories of my original world... My only certainty was that I was in danger... I'm still trying to piece together fragments of my faulty memory... but I have no intention of hurting anyone!" pleaded Zain.

"When I was in Fleur's subconscious, I heard him calling for help, Darcey. We were supposed to rescue him the night he found us..." added Ouray.

"He's our friend, grandmother. He fought alongside us and saved our lives, he's part of the team," intervened Fleur.

Darcey took a few seconds to process the pouring information, each word echoing ancient mysteries she had skimmed over regarding the Decipherer's identity. Finally, she caught her breath and said in a measured yet firm voice,

"This... boy is an entity whose powers and pivotal role are described in centuries-old texts. No one has ever fully understood the extent or grasped the true power of it. And the three of you, you're hiding him here in Redwaters, under the guise of an ordinary high school student? Don’t you see how absurd that is?!"

Hadrian struggled to maintain his composure, his patience wearing thin. He couldn't allow Zain's identity to be compromised.

"Darcey, the Order must not be informed of any of this," he said, each word carrying an implicit threat.

"The Order may be the only chance we have to uncover the truth about his identity!" Darcey retorted, urgency creeping into her tone.

Hadrian's eyes hardened, his determination unwavering. "This is not a suggestion, Darcey. I will do everything in my power to keep this information from them."

Feeling the tension rise, Fleur turned to him, worried.

"Everyone, let's calm down, no need for threats!"

"I will go much further than threats if necessary," Hadrian replied, his gaze burning with cold resolve.

Sensing the situation slipping away, Zain gently took Hadrian's hand in his, seeking to soothe his troubled mind. The immortal locked eyes with Zain, the mere thought of him being in danger making him physically ill.

Zain turned slowly to Darcey, his eyes shining with disarming sincerity.

"Listen, I understand your panic. You seem to know more about what I am, or supposed to be, than I do. But you have to believe me: I'm not here to harm anyone... I just want a normal life and to finally understand who I am."

The ensuing silence was heavy with tension. Then, Fleur spoke, her voice trembling with unwavering determination. "He's no different from you, me, Mom, or anyone else in here. He's an innocent who needs help, Grandma."

Darcey, her face impassive, took another sip of whiskey. The resolution of Carolina's murder had shaken her perception of things, bringing forth a sensitivity she thought buried forever. She turned her eyes to Zain, that bruised and battered boy, the embodiment of a lost and bewildered teenager. He seemed so fragile, torn from his world, without memories, desperately struggling to find his place.

Amidst the turmoil of her thoughts, a wave of compassion washed over her. She recalled her own struggles, her own wounds, and suddenly, the idea of letting this child suffer any longer seemed unbearable. Darcey straightened up, gently placing her glass down, and her eyes met Zain's. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of something inside her—a surge of protectiveness towards him .

All eyes turned to her, each seeking answers in the silence that followed an incisive statement.

"Alright... You want to keep his identity secret while you figure out more to keep him safe... But what measures have you taken so far to pass him off as human in the eyes of society?" Her voice carried a quiet authority, a note of challenge.

The group remained frozen, uncertainty evident on every face. Her piercing gaze exposed their hesitation.

"A foreign exchange student from Europe, is that it? Have you provided him with identification papers? School records for high school? A social security number, in case he needs hospital admission?"

Ouray, taken aback by this turn of events, straightened slightly. "The high school is still waiting for the transfer of records. They aren't very meticulous about these details..."

"The high school might not be, but you want to hide him from the Order. That's a different ball game. How do you typically handle that for the supernatural creatures living in the enchanted forest or here in Redwaters?" Darcey asked, her words sharp as a blade, each syllable precise.

Fleur, suddenly recalling, murmured, "Garth... he's a computer whiz. He forges their papers by using the identities and social security numbers of deceased individuals."

The tension escalated. "Kid, go see that Garth immediately and make sure you have everything in place so you can maintain your cover if needed ," Darcey commanded firmly.

Hadrian, still weighed down by his conversation with Garth at the game about his feelings for Zain, intervened with barely contained fervor, "I'll go see him myself to take care of it..."

Unaware of Hadrian's inner turmoil, Zain cut in, "No, I'll stop by on my way to Simonne's. It's on the way."

Observing the exchange, Fleur caught the shadow of jealousy in her friend's eyes. Zain offered a grateful smile to Darcey, planted a delicate kiss on Hadrian's lips, and swiftly left the room.

As the door closed, silence fell heavily in the library. Darcey, visibly strained by the tension, muttered with emotion-laden voice,

"What a fucking mess."

The gazes of those present instinctively lowered, aware of the implications of what was unfolding. Darcey continued with a trembling voice, addressing the group around her,

"I'm utterly stunned that you kept such information a secret. Wanting to hide it from the Order, I can understand that, but from me?" She paused to catch her breath, eyes shimmering with sadness and anger. "I know the Order is involved in shady dealings; I've worked for them for decades, but you, Hadrian..." She turned to the immortal with intense burning eyes. "You've been an ally to our lineage for centuries. You've protected me, guided me, just as you have my daughter and granddaughter. How could you assume I would betray your trust..."

Then, she turned to Ouray, whose dark eyes met hers with a mix of regret and defiance. "And you’re the worst ! After everything we've been through together, what made you think I would expose this boy when I've kept your secret for all these years?"

All eyes turned to Ouray, expressing surprise and bewilderment at this unexpected revelation. The look of panic on the shaman's face did not go unnoticed, and Darcey immediately understood that he had still not disclosed his true identity to anyone.

Fleur, her voice trembling with disbelief, suddenly broke the silence, "Your secret?!"

"Our secret, she meant… our history," instinctively interjected Ouray to divert the attention of his friends, although Hadrian discerned his mentor's maneuver and intended to follow through with the bombshell Darcey had dropped at the opportune moment.

Darcey adjusted a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her impeccable bun having been tested by her sleepless night. She spoke next, her eyes sparkling with determination fixed on the group.

"I can get behind your determination to protect Zain, he seems like a good one, but what have you done to uncover his identity? The Decipherer's powers?" she queried, her voice vibrant.

Ouray began, "We've explored every possible lead, I even visited the realm of the dead, consulted my ancestors..." but Darcey cut him off sharply.

"A bunch of amateurs, that's what you are!"

The group's astonished gazes met hers as she continued, "There's a centuries-old prophecy of the Decipherer, kept at the National Museum of Egypt, a text no one has managed to translate yet. You were aware of this, of course?"

Yet the group seemed unaware of the crucial information.

"We’re going to play it by my rules : you don't want me to disclose anything to the Order, fine, but on one condition: Zain's presence must not threaten the balance of our world. Hadrian, Ouray, go retrieve that prophecy so we can finally learn more." Her command was clear, imperious.

Hadrian and Ouray exchanged looks filled with confusion and shame for not having discovered the lead themselves.

"I'll go with them," Fleur proposed, "three won't be too many to steal an ancient prophecy from an Egyptian museum!"

"No," Darcey replied coldly, "Two of us won’t be too many to protect the kid here while they handle the scroll. I need you to stay, Fleur."

The redhead witch's agreement was unquestionable, a glimmer of satisfaction appearing in her eyes. It was her first collaboration with her grandmother, and seeing Darcey take charge with such compassion revealed her in a new light.

"Hadrian, Ouray, the instructions are simple: get me that prophecy, immediately," Darcey concluded, her voice filled with urgency and authority.

———————-

Raad stepped out of the modern shower in Marsha's loft, a thin towel wrapped around his hips. The hot water had washed away the dust of weeks spent in exile in the arid mountains with his father, in the Dazaris camp. Yet, the confusion lingered. Redwaters, this foreign city, enveloped him with its oppressive humidity and futuristic technologies. Here, memories of his original world, bathed in twin suns, seemed like distant mirages.

He surveyed the room with a mixture of admiration and alienation. Just then, Sienna entered the room, her steps light but resolute. Since the Order had captured Marsha after the confrontation at the Lotf, Sienna had taken possession of this sanctuary. By adopting the memories and physical form of Rose, she had decided to fully immerse in Rose’s life, exploring Redwaters through her new eyes.

Her gaze, intense and unashamed, rested on Raad. The prince, still dripping with water, radiated a raw strength and divine beauty. A palpable tension filled the room, each breath and movement heavy with electric anticipation.

She moved toward him, her eyes shining with ardent desire. It had been far too long since she had felt the vibrant warmth of another body against hers, since she had surrendered to a passionate embrace. The man standing before her was undeniably the most appealing specimen she had ever encountered. Every fiber of her being burned with an unbearable desire.

The sorceress, once a creature of insatiable passion and lust, had seen her unquenchable appetite dulled by years of captivity in London's dark brothels. Her arrival in Redwaters, five centuries ago, had marked the beginning of a renaissance. The life she had built here, with her husband and daughter, had slowly healed the wounds of her tormented past. In this moment, she felt the fiery woman she once was re-emerge. A torrent of passion overwhelmed her, awakening a thirst to explore forgotten pleasures.

Boldly, she let Raad's towel slip away with a swift gesture, revealing his full magnificence. Her heart raced at the sight of his imposing virility, promising endless pleasures. Her eager desire drove her irresistibly to taste this power, to lose herself in the ecstasy it promised.

Raad watched her, his gaze detached and impassive, then declared,

"Do not misunderstand me, witch."

Sienna, perplexed, halted abruptly, stopped mid-motion. "I am the crown prince of the Peris, not a notorious rapist."

Stunned by his remark, she tried to explain, “ what are you talking about? I am entirely willing..."

"I see the truth beyond your illusions," Raad replied. "It is not your body you offer me, but that of another you inhabit. I will not defile an innocent soul you manipulate by using her form." He then picked up his towel and covered himself again with a precise motion.

Sienna was bewildered by his response. She had never considered that possessing Rose did not grant her full rights over her body. This realization struck her with shame. She, who had been sold like mere merchandise, had been on the verge of subjecting her captive to the same fate, offering this body that was not hers in an almost animalistic impulse.

"Let's not waste time, you promised to lead me to my brother. Let's get moving," Raad declared, his impatience palpable in his voice.

Sienna, a mischievous glint in her eyes, retorted, "Do I need to remind you of the terms of our arrangement? I will lead you to your brother, but only if, once captured, you allow me to use his powers to bring mine back from the dead."

Raad's gaze hardened, fixing Sienna with intensity. "I am a man of my word, witch. There is no need to insult my integrity."

Sienna rummaged through her shopping bags from town and pulled out a black tuxedo, a perfectly pressed shirt, and dress shoes, laying them carefully on the bed. Raad, perplexed, watched this preparation with curiosity.

"Getting to your brother won’t be easy. He’s surrounded by powerful protectors, ready to defend him at all costs. We'll need to be cunning," she added, her mind already racing. The Peri prince couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. In such a short time, Zain had already managed to gather and win over allies to protect him. That kid was indeed clever.

Sienna handed him an invitation card that Raad struggled to decipher. Seeing his confusion, she took the invitation back and explained, "Tonight, a gala is being held in support of local businesses. Marsha and Rose, the girl whose body I inhabit, are invited thanks to the bookstore they own. I know that Fleur, Hadrian, and your brother will also be in attendance . There’s no better place than a public event to get to Zain. By working together, we can approach and capture him discreetly, using the crowd to our advantage without his friends noticing."

Sienna then took a small plastic box from the bags, containing black colored contact lenses. She handed the box to Raad, who looked at it uncomprehendingly, never having seen such a thing before.

"This world isn’t accustomed to the sight of magic. This tuxedo won’t be enough to conceal your identity; these lenses will change your eye color to help you blend in with the locals," she explained.

Raad opened the box and looked at the lenses with apprehension through his violet eyes. "What strange sorcery is this?"

"Human vanity, you'll get used to it ," Sienna replied , beginning to master all the intricacies of this era, which had been so foreign to her not long ago.

 

——————

In the Uber, Zain let himself be lulled by the soft music resonating in the car, comfortably settled in the back seat. But it wasn’t the assault he had suffered or the discovery of his identity by Darcey that occupied his thoughts. No, it was his night with Hadrian. His first time… Was that what sex was? That mysterious act that seems to govern worlds, condemned by some and celebrated by others. That rite of passage that transforms a boy into a man, shrouded in modesty, criticized by religions, and penalized in some countries. That act praised in songs, idealized in cinema and television, and romanticized by literature...

Shards of that magical night assaulted his mind, coloring his cheeks with a gentle blush. He wouldn’t trade that first time for anything in the world. If he had to go through all the trials of his life to reach this moment, he would regret nothing. Even if it meant never recovering his lost memory or finding his way back to his own world, he wouldn’t change a thing.

That act, both sanctified and demonized, had taken on a much simpler and deeper meaning for him. The anxious boy he had been just the previous day seemed to have vanished in Hadrian’s arms. He could still feel Hadrian’s taste and touch on his skin, like an overwhelming presence. Everything had become clear, natural, in that unique embrace.

For Zain, it was like crossing an invisible threshold into another dimension, a dimension where words and gestures took on a new and unexplored meaning.

Memories floated in his mind. That first time was more than just a physical act. It was a dance, an exchange... where every movement, every touch, told a story. Zain remembered how their breaths had synchronized, as if their souls responded to each other.

It was neither a sacred act nor a transgression, but a personal revelation. He had discovered a new facet of himself, a space of shared trust and vulnerability. That moment with Hadrian had redefined the contours of his reality. He now understood why sex could be both celebrated and feared. It wasn't just about pleasure or taboo, but intimate power, an authentic connection, an exchange of essences.

Reflecting on that night, Zain knew he had crossed a crucial threshold, one that had transformed not only his relationship with Hadrian but also his perception of himself and that of the world around him.

“... We’ve reached your destination,” insisted the driver, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts.

 

Zain struggled to push open the door of Garth's tattoo shop, his hands full with the two iced coffees he had just bought from across the street. He wasn’t sure if the kinnara would be there, especially so early on a Saturday morning.

Garth was replacing the pink neon lights hanging above the counter when he saw the boy enter.

“Well, look who it is! Redwaters ‘s High very own star player slash cheerleader, dropping by for a visit!” he exclaimed, climbing down the ladder with a smile.

Zain took off his black sunglasses, revealing to his friend his blackened eyes, evidence of the assault he had suffered the night before.

“My God! Did that happen on the field after I left?” Garth asked, visibly shocked.

“If only…” Zain murmured, his gaze lost in the distance. Then, regaining his composure, he added, “Listen, I'll tell you everything and give you this delicious iced coffee as a bribe…in exchange for your hacking skills to get me a new identity. Deal?”

A few minutes passed, and Zain recounted to Garth the ambush he suffered and the confrontation with Darcey that morning, leaving out no details. The kinnara listened, fascinated by his resilience and ability to downplay traumatic events, just as he always did when sharing his adventures with him.

Seeing Garth’s smile, Zain couldn’t help but ask, with a touch of irony, “

Are you literally laughing at my misery?”

“Of course not… And i know that violence solves nothing and all that, but the idea that a bunch of brainless jocks attacked you when you were alone, only to end up getting the beating of their lives—the irony of it is just…”

Garth burst into laughter, and Zain couldn’t help but join in.

The tension on his shoulders seemed to dissipate gradually, and Zain admitted with a sigh,

“It feels good to laugh about it… Hadrian took it so badly that we almost witnessed : Tucker’s gang massacre, part two…”

Garth laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Hadrian takes everything too seriously … He probably thinks it makes him look more heroic.”

Catching the drift of the remark, Zain couldn’t help but say,

“He feels deeply about things… it’s a rare quality.”

Garth looked at him, a mocking smile on his lips. “I know you like the guy, but come on… admit it, he’s always so dramatic …”

Zain thought for a few seconds before laughing and admitting, “Okay… maybe intense would be a better choice of words, then he added, “But it has a certain charm!”

Garth teased him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I thought you had a less…mainstream taste level…”

Zain gave him a false-offended look before asking , “Why does Hadrian annoy you so much? I thought you guys used to get along just fine…”

Garth took a long breath, carefully choosing his words before replying, “I think I’ve just…matured. I’ve learned that grand gestures mean nothing compared to consistency, that late heroic acts are nothing more than smoke and mirrors…”

As he spoke these words, Garth remembered all the friends he had lost over the past few years, victims of Tucker and his gang. Hadrian, oblivious to the danger, had never understood the gravity of the situation. Garth’s solitary efforts to save defenseless innocents only deepened his resentment toward the immortal.

Zain, sensed his friend’s struggle as if he were reading through his painful memories…He was overcome with empathy that made him see Garth in a new light. It was as if he were walking through the Kinnara’s past, perceiving each trial and sacrifice, feeling his pain as if it were his own. He now saw Garth, that quiet young man he was getting to know, not only as a loyal ally but as a true hero. That charming punk, with his too cool demeanor and detached attitude, had spent years saving his peers, using cunning despite his solitude to protect the oppressed, giving a voice to the voiceless. Zain understood the depth of his courage and dedication.

He placed a comforting hand on Garth’s shoulder, his gaze filled with respect and compassion. “It’s about them…the friend’s you lost?” he asked, his soft voice betraying the admiration he now felt for his friend.

Garth, touched by the gesture, came out of his reverie and replied with a sad but grateful smile, “We all have our emotional baggage… it’ll get better eventually. Don’t worry about me… Come on! We need to get you a new identity!” he said, his big blue eyes suddenly lighting up, dispelling the ghosts of the past.

"How do you usually do it?" Zain asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Follow me behind the counter, I'll show you," invited him Garth , gesturing with his hand.

Zain followed him, and the two boys settled behind the counter. Garth pulled out his laptop and sat on a high stool, while Zain took a seat beside him, his eyes fixed on the screen. Garth's fingers danced over the keyboard with surprising agility, under Zain’s fascinated gaze.

"Usually, the process is way simpler," Garth explained without looking up from the screen. "I just need to find the identity of a deceased individual whose age approximately matches the person needing the papers. With you, the challenge is that the high school is expecting a nineteen-year-old Zain from Europe. So, we need to broaden our search..."

Zain frowned, a shadow of discomfort crossing his face. "Isn't it a bit morbid, though? Hoping that someone my age with a similar name and age has died so I can steal their identity..."

Garth shrugged slightly, continuing his search without losing his composure. "Personally, I don't see it that way," he said. "You're just borrowing the identity of someone whose story unfortunately ended and, let's say, giving it a new life."

Zain nodded, reconsidering Garth's words. Viewing the situation from this perspective, he found the idea less grim. A new life for a lost identity... There was a certain poetry to it, after all.

"Zain isn't a common name in Europe... Maybe someone of biracial descent..." Garth mused aloud, still engrossed in his search. "I found a Zain who was Egyptian-Spanish, but he was in his forties. There's a Zane Sullivan, who died in London, dual American-British citizenship , nineteen years old... And a Zine Callas, Greek-American. A Zeina Marshall from the Middle East, but explaining a gender change would be a bit challenging ..." he added with a hint of humor in his voice.

"So, we have two candidates left: Zane Sullivan and Zine Callas. Go with whichever is easier..." the boy responded.

"It's your choice. Both died abroad, their deaths weren't registered in the US, and they both have dual citizenship. Your call pretty boy!"

"Zine, Zane..." the boy repeated, feeling lost. Choosing an identity seemed more complicated than picking a pair of shoes. Seeing his confusion, Garth got up from the computer and moved behind Zain, saying, "Let's make this more fun." He gently placed his hands over the boy's eyes, adding, "Clear your mind... Think... Do you feel more like a Zane from England or a Zine from Greece?"

Garth's presence was decidedly calming, yet also somewhat unsettling. At the touch of his hands, Zain suddenly felt disoriented, as if a veil of uncertainty had descended upon him.

"What’s going on here?" Hadrian's voice thundered through the tattoo shop.

Garth slowly removed his hands from Zain's eyes, and both turned towards the immortal who had just arrived. Hadrian was taken aback. What was Garth really playing at?

"Hey! Garth was just helping me choose an identity!" Zain exclaimed , jumping off the stool to join Hadrian on the other side of the counter.

"And do you go through this fun process with everyone before handing them their papers?" Hadrian asked, his icy gaze fixed on the Kinnara, his patience wearing thin.

"Only with friends," Garth replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he met the immortal's challenging stare.

Ignoring the tense atmosphere, Zain turned to Hadrian, concerned by his sudden presence. "Is everything alright? I expected to see you later. Any issues with Darcey?"

Hadrian glanced briefly at Garth before focusing on Zain, trying to mask his agitation. "No, everything's fine," he replied, his tone softening. "Darcey revealed the existence of a parchment, the Prophecy of the Decipherer... if we manage to obtain it, it could unlock some answers on your identity," Hadrian explained.

Zain's face lit up with excitement at this revelation. "That's fantastic! We finally have a lead!" he exclaimed.

"The only issue is that the prophecy is in a museum in Egypt. Ouray and I are going to try to retrieve it as soon as possible; our plane leaves in an hour," Hadrian added, his enthusiasm tempered by the urgency.

Zain couldn't hide his disappointment. "An hour? So no gala for the two of us tonight..."

Equally disappointed, Hadrian sighed. "That's why I stopped by, to give you the check to hand to Simonne's mother and to see you before I leave."

"I was really looking forward to going... but I get it... Damn priorities..." Zain tried to joke, though his heart wasn't in it.

"I can take you to the gala if you want. I wasn't sure I wanted to attend myself, but it could be a good opportunity for networking... for the tattoo shop... and besides, as much as I hate to admit it, I look great in a tuxedo," Garth suggested, a mischievous smile on his lips.

Zain watched the exchange like an impending accident, fearing the unpredictable outcome. Hadrian was taken aback by Garth's audacity, but he didn't want to appear petty or insecure. Yet, inside, a storm of violence brewed so strongly he feared he couldn't control it any longer if the boy pushed it.

"Don't bother, Garth. Fleur is going with Darcey to represent Creeks. Zain can go with them," Hadrian said, a satisfied smile on his face.

"It wouldn’t be a bother at all. Going to the game last night put me in a …sociable mood...and nothing beats a night out with ….friends!" Garth retorted, his tone deliberately snarky.

Facing this verbal tennis match, Zain decided to diffuse the tension the only way he saw fit.

"I wasn't too keen on going anyway. After last night's incident, it's better for me to stay in tonight."

Hadrian's heart nearly broke at this remark. He felt ashamed that his ridiculous jealousy, despite his five centuries of existence, could spoil an evening Zain wanted so badly to attend, especially after the horror he’s been through the previous night. How could he be so selfish? As overwhelming and new as his feelings of insecurity were, and even if Garth was clearly playing to them, he needed to believe in the special bond he shared with Zain, instead of behaving like a hormonal teenager.

"No... you guys can go together. Your other friends will be there too, you need an stress-free evening. I'm just disappointed I can't accompany you," Hadrian said, softening his tone, his eyes betraying genuine concern.

"Are you sure?" Zain asked, taking the immortal's hands in his.

At the touch of his skin, Hadrian's sense of shame deepened. At that moment, he silently vowed never to let his jealousy overshadow the trust he had in them.

Hadrian tenderly kissed Zain. Under Garth's falsely indifferent gaze, this infinitely gentle kiss created a suspended moment where the world seemed to only revolve around them. When he gently pulled his lips away from Zain's, the immortal whispered, "Yes, I'm sure. Go, and please…have fun." He pulled a check from his leather jacket’s pocket and handed it to Zain. "Give this to Simonne's mother for me. Let her know your boyfriend apologizes for not being able to attend."

Zain's heart threatened to melt in his chest; they had never spoken of their relationship in those terms before.

"Boyfriend…I like the sound of that…Come back to me soon then... boyfriend..." he quipped , savoring the word with unexpected joy.

"As soon as inhumanly possible," Hadrian assured jokingly , before kissing him again passionately.

After a few enchanted seconds, Hadrian reluctantly broke the embrace, offered Zain a smile laden with promises, and made his way to the door, taking a piece of Zain with him.

Zain felt torn as he watched Hadrian depart through the doorway. The night they had shared had deepened their bond, making it almost unbearable to let him go alone in search of the parchment. Yet, the importance of uncovering the prophecy's secrets weighed heavily on both of them.

Their growing attachment frightened them both, equally.

As the door closed behind Hadrian's departure, Garth teased Zain with irony: "Truly intense, indeed!"

Zain responded with a sharp yet amused stare, before joining Garth behind the counter to finish what they had started.

 

——————————————

Darcey sat in the lobby bar of her downtown hotel. At this early hour, the bar was nearly empty. She sipped a scotch, still shaken by her recent discoveries. That frail boy she had met was indeed the infamous Decipherer prince. The previous night, Zain had confided in her, admitting he didn’t understand this world. She hadn’t grasped the literal meaning of his words: he truly came from a different dimension.

Darcey was stunned that Hadrian, Ouray, and Fleur hadn’t told her about the recent events that occurred in town. Yet, part of her understood their silence, and that’s what hurt the most. She had never managed to show herself worthy of the trust she so desperately wanted from them. Her affiliation with the Order had seeped into every aspect of her life, becoming inseparable from her identity. This rigidity had bred mistrust among her loved ones, slowly driving them away.

At her advanced age, this reflection on her life was far from what she had hoped for. But there was still time for her to change things, to regain that mischievous spark that once animated her daring eyes. It might be too late for her and Ouray, and sending her ex lover to the other side of the world in search of an ancient prophecy was certainly not the fastest way to start a conversation about their past...Most of all, she hoped her granddaughter Fleur could finally see her in a new light giving the little time they had left to share.

As if she had guessed her thoughts, Fleur’s voice resonated behind her, pulling Darcey from her contemplation. "The bar so early, Grandma? Our whole gang is in serious need of therapy...and possibly AA." Fleur joked as she perched on the high stool next to her.

"A black coffee, strong, please," ordered the red-haired witch from the waiter before turning to her grandmother. "I wanted us to have a one-on-one conversation..."

Darcey smiled at her, a smile mixed with fatigue and defiance. "Sure, just as i said earlier, it’s a fucking mess..." She took a sip of her scotch before continuing. "You know what? Hadrian and Ouray are handling that part. We'll have plenty of time to go over the gravity of the situation when they get back. How about you and I talk about something else for a change... Tell me about your that human fiancé of yours, your life as a woman..."

Fleur was taken aback, pleasantly surprised by Darcey's change in attitude since Carolina's soul had found peace.

"And maybe... you could tell me about you and Ouray..." Fleur ventured hesitantly.

Darcey took another sip of scotch and, with a conspiratorial smile, replied, "Alright... let's talk about it! What do you want to know?"

Fleur hesitated for a moment, her gaze wavering between the floor and Darcey, before venturing, "First... when was it?"

Darcey delved into her memories, her gaze softening. She took a deep breath before revealing, lost in her past, "After your grandfather passed away... Ouray and I grew closer." She paused, her eyes fixed on the wooden bar. "I had returned to Redwaters to spend time with you and your mother… one thing led to another, we fell in love... He rekindled a part of me that I thought was extinguished forever."

Fleur sighed, a relieved smile playing on her lips. "That already answers a question that was troubling me... so Ouray is not my grandfather!"

Darcey smiled, amused by the remark, before replying, "No... your grandfather is indeed your grandfather!"

Fleur let out a light laugh, pleased that one of her certainties had not been shaken by yet another unexpected revelation.

"When I was immersed in Ouray's subconscious ... and saw the one memory that made me discover your relationship... I saw the tension between you two... almost felt it myself. Why did you two part ways? There were obviously strong feelings between the two of you..."

Darcey's face contorted with regret. She lowered her eyes, nervously playing with a strand of hair before admitting sadly, "Your mother's death was truly a turning point for me... I was no longer the same. I've never been a simple woman… or in tune with my feelings, but after Carolina's disappearance, my heart just closed off... and there was simply no room left for anyone else."

It was the truth, even though Darcey hadn't disclosed the exact details of their breakup or their final confrontation to protect Ouray's secret. It was the most honest she had ever been with anyone about her feelings.

Fleur placed a comforting hand on her grandmother's, touched by this unexpected exchange. Darcey smiled weakly before asking in turn, "Enough about me... I'm just a boring old woman. How are things between you and that human fiancé of yours? The gala tonight is being held at his parents' place, isn't it?"

Fleur took a deep breath, her gaze drifting into the distance, before replying, "Yes, his mother and stepfather... but I don't think I'll go. His mother has never supported our engagement... and Elliott and I are at a point in our relationship where I'm not sure if staying together is even…right."

"My dear," Darcey said, gently squeezing Fleur's hand, "you're a Willard. We're not women who let others dictate our lives. Take heed from my mistakes. You owe it to yourself to follow your heart and find clarity. So forget about his mother, let's go tonight, talk to him... and make that decision …for yourself!"

 

——————————————

Zaïn stood before the majestic Samuels' residence, a home that elegantly blended modern architectural lines with the timeless charm of classic details. As he walked down the paved driveway, he noticed the cars lined up and the contractors' trucks, all busy with the final touches for the imminent gala. Every corner bore witness to the preparatory buzz, promising a grand evening.

As he reached the front door, Simonne suddenly appeared in the driveway, her face betraying palpable worry. She rushed towards Zaïn and embraced him with a forceful relief.

"Zaïn! My God! I heard what happened! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her words laced with sincere emotion.

A reassuring smile stretched across Zaïn's lips before Simonne, visibly moved, continued speaking: "Those bullies got what they deserved, attacking you like that, when you were alone. Fortunately, you managed to defend yourself... Their parents are furious; they wanted you expelled from school!"

Zaïn's heart tightened painfully at this revelation. "What? How? They were the ones who attacked me!" he exclaimed, a flash of anger crossing his eyes.

"I know. The principal called me in this morning about it. I clearly expressed my stand... Expelling a student for self-defense against a hate crime... He quickly changed his tune..." She looked at her friend with tenderness before adding, "But be careful, Zaïn. Their parents aren't joking around. Dyson and Cook ended up in the hospital with fractures. I'm afraid they won't stop there..."

Her tone betrayed deep concern for Zaïn, her eyes reflecting genuine worry.

Zaïn felt a shiver of indignation run through his body like an electric shock. The audacity of those bullies! Their reprehensible behavior was mirrored by their equally culpable parents. Such unscrupulous upbringing sure explained the condemnable actions of their children.

"Show me the damage..." Simonne asked with a voice filled with concern. Zaïn hesitated for a moment, then removed his dark glasses, revealing the bruises under his eyes.

The young girl grimaced upon seeing the signs of violence. "My God, Zaïn..."

Before he could respond, she adopted a reassuring tone: "Don't worry. You’re in luck, you have the queen of makeup on your side. Come, I'll cover all this up like it never happened!"

She gently slipped her arm under Zaïn's and led him into the villa.

"Aren't we going shopping first?" he asked, surprised.

"My mother arranged for a dress fitting here. We can choose on-site... She loves to control every aspect in my life, and doesn't hesitate to criticize me even when I do listen to her," she confided with a hint of irony mixed with embarrassment.

Zaïn crossed the threshold of the villa, where a frantic hustle and bustle reigned. Employees were coming and going, busy with the gala preparations. The hallways echoed with hurried footsteps and rapid conversations. In one corner, a young girl barely in her twenties, holding an iPad, observed the scene, looking petrified by the surrounding frenzy.

At the sight of Simonne and Zaïn, she rushed towards them, her face pale and her eyes wide with anxiety. "Simonne, help! I didn't receive the right flowers, the champagne hasn't been delivered, and the tablecloths clash with the table decorations... Your mother is going to fire me…no she’s going to kill me!" cried Anne, Patricia Samuels' assistant, visibly overwhelmed by the situation.

Simonne placed a reassuring hand on Anne's shoulder. "Breathe, Anne. We'll sort this out," she said in a soft but firm voice, exchanging a worried look with Zaïn.

Zaïn focused, scanning the cacophony of colors in the room. The clash of tones and elements revealed Anne's inexperience. Then, as if hit by a revelation, he instinctively knew what to do to fix the situation. It was as if he had organized galas and banquets all his life.

In a confident tone, he turned to Anne and declared, "There are too many colors, too much going on. Anne, we need to remove the excess. Let's keep only the peach-colored flowers; they'll soften the overall look and will work with the light-colored tablecloths already on site. As for the champagne, use your regular stock for a few trays, only for your VIPs. As for the others, get some sparkling wine. They won't notice the difference, and passed a certain time of the evening , no one will even care anyway."

Zaïn seemed in a trance, possessed by an innate talent, under the captivated gazes of Simonne and Anne. Simonne, impressed, gave him an approving smile.

"You seem to have things under control in here. I'll go upstairs to see the dresses . Join me when you're done, okay?"

Zaïn nodded absentmindedly , then turned back to Anne, still focused on the task: "Lighting. No harsh spotlights or any direct light for that matter. Candles on the tables and warm, yellow lights only—nothing aggressive. And two teams of waiters: one with the good champagne for the VIPs, the other with the sparkling wine to avoid any mix-ups."

Anne nodded, her eyes shining with newfound determination.

As Simonne ascended the stairs, she cast one last admiring glance at Zaïn. He was like a conductor, orchestrating every detail with a precision and confidence that commanded respect.

"Anne, we're going to start by deconstructing the bouquets and creating more modern centerpieces. Then, we'll handle the gifts bags."

"Gifts bags?" Anne asked, clearly caught off guard by this detail.

"You can't host a gala to support local businesses without offering gifts bags. Benefactors need to leave with a token of their investment. We'll call all participating perfumers, cosmetic and beauty stores to ask them to send us samples, which we'll package and give out at the end. Who's in charge of the cloakroom? What’s the valet situation ?" The young man, like an automaton, rattled off directives under Anne's anxious gaze, visibly overwhelmed by the events. Neither of them noticed Patricia Samuels, Simonne and Elliot's mother, watching over the scene, fascinated by the boy's efficiency.

« Anne, who is this young men and why is he doing your job? »

Anne, petrified that her boss had witnessed Zain’s takeover , remained silent. Meanwhile, Zain turned to Patricia, embarrassed . "I apologize, Mrs. Samuels. My name is Zaïn Callas. I just arrived from Greece for an exchange program. I'm in high school with Simonne..."

Patricia, a beautiful blonde woman in her fifties with blue eyes and mid-length hair tied in a ponytail, wore a simple sky-blue velour tracksuit. Her smooth, flawless features hinted at some tasteful plastic surgeries. She scrutinized Zaïn from head to toe before responding, "Greece? I love Santorini, Mykonos! Delighted that my daughter is making new worldly friends!"

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," he replied with a big smile.

Patricia continued, with detached coldness, "Zaïn, this evening is very important for my husband. It's an election year, and I can't afford for things to go wrong..."

"I completely understand," Zaïn agreed.

"So, you'll understand what’s about to go down... Anne, you're fired! Zaïn, congratulations, you're hired!" Patricia exclaimed, her impassive tone betraying no emotion.

Anne, in tears, quickly left the room. Zaïn, disconcerted, turned to Patricia: "Mrs. Samuels, let's stay calm. There's no need to fire poor Anne; she was doing her best… I only came here to drop off a check and help Simonne choose a dress."

He pulled Hadrian’s check from his pocket and handed it to Patricia. She examined it closely, surprised.

"Hadrian Archer? You know him?"

"Yes... he's my boyfriend," Zaïn admitted.

Patricia's eyes lit up. With a smile, she replied, "I see that your good taste isn't limited to floral arrangements..."

Zaïn blushed as she continued, "Listen, Zaïn, you don't want Anne to lose her job, and I want this evening to be a success. My hairdresser and makeup artist are waiting for me upstairs. If you stay a bit to help my incompetent assistant, I might reconsider firing her..."

Zaïn thought about it for a moment. There was no way he would let Anne lose her job, but the negotiator in him wanted to further more leverage the situation.

"Alright, if Anne keeps her job... and if you tell Simonne, no matter which dress she chooses, that she looks stunning."

Patricia looked at him, surprised by his bold initiative. This boy clearly had a personality, and it reassured her that Simonne was surrounding herself with people who cared about her well-being. She observed him in silence, her eyes scrutinizing every detail of his face and demeanor, as if evaluating the sincerity of his words.

After a moment that seemed to stretch, she smiled declaring, "Deal. This gala better be the event of the season!" A playful wink accompanied her words, adding a touch of lightness to the tension still lingering in the room. Then, with natural grace, she turned and headed towards the staircase, her steps echoing softly on the polished marble.

 

Nearly two hours later, everything was finally in place, each element arranged with an almost supernatural precision. After finding Anne in tears in the garden and assuring her job was secure, Zain had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the preparations. The centerpieces were meticulously arranged, adorned with delicate flowers and scented candles. The lighting, expertly planned, bathed the room in a magical ambiance, while the hand-picked servers bustled behind the scenes. The sparkling wine, which had arrived just in time, was ready to be served.

Perfection reigned supreme, with every detail carefully considered, as Anne, relieved, wore a serene smile that reflected her newfound peace.

Though exhausted, Zain was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. He cast one last glance over the fruits of his labor, a quiet pride illuminating his gaze. Orchestrating the details of this event had reignited in him a long-buried certainty: it was not merely an innate gift, but a genuine experience etched into his very being.

Fragmented memories of his nineteenth birthday flooded back, flashes of his mysterious past. He could almost hear the soft oriental music that had enveloped that evening, smell the intoxicating scent of jasmine that floated in the warm air. These memories were both troubling and comforting, a chaotic swirl of emotions, vivid yet fleeting images, as if blocked by a powerful charm that prevented him from piecing together the puzzle of his past. Every detail of this evening resonated with a familiarity that unsettled him.

Zain ascended the stairs to join Simonne in her room, his steps heavy with fatigue yet his mind racing. On his way up, he encountered Elliott descending. Agent Samuels, who had moved back in with his mother to give Fleur some space, halted abruptly when he saw Zain.

"Zain...? Is that right? Hadrian’s boyfriend?" Elliott asked, surprised to see him.

Zain smiled, recalling their initial meeting at the manor. It was the day after his arrival in Redwaters, and Elliott had immediately assumed, based on the cover story Fleur had concocted to shield her own true identity, that Zain was the immortal's boyfriend. Ironically, today, Zain and Hadrian were indeed together.

"Hey..." he replied shyly.

"You're also a friend of Fleur's, correct?" Elliott asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Yes..."

"Do you know if she’ll be there tonight? I don't want to bother her, but if she's not coming... I think I'll skip the evening too. I can’t stand all this political circus..." he confessed.

Zain hesitated before replying, "Last I heard, she’ll be there with her grandmother, so I think it’s worth attending ."

"How is she?" Elliott asked, his affection for Fleur compelling him to grant her space, yet his concern for her continuing to consume him.

"She's managing..." Zain replied, endeavoring to reassure the agent while recognizing that words alone wouldn’t assuage his apprehensions.

"Fleur always strives to confront whatever challenges come her way without inconveniencing anyone... but deep down, she’s exceedingly sensitive. I don’t wish to overstep, but could you ensure she’s alright for me?" he inquired, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Touched by the sincerity of his plea, Zain smiled warmly and replied, "I will."

Elliott experienced a mixture of relief and gratitude. With a heavy heart, he proceeded on his way, casting one last glance backward. The profound love between the officer and the witch was apparent to Zain. The romantic within him earnestly hoped they would ultimately discover their path to each other.

Zain walked down the long, silent hallway and stopped in front of Simonne’s slightly ajar bedroom door. He could hear her voice engaged in a phone conversation. He knocked softly before entering. The room was a charming mess of colors and textures, with about twenty dresses scattered across the bed, chair, and floor, evidence of recent fittings .

Simonne looked up and, seeing Zain, hurried to end her call. "I’ll call you back, baby. See you soon!" she briskly said before hanging up, a radiant smile lighting up her face.

Zain collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, under Simonne's amused gaze. "That was Conrad. He's coming over soon. I can't wait for you to finally meet him!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. She was unaware that Zain had, just a few days earlier, saved Conrad from a mysterious curse that had trapped him inside the painting in Marsha's loft.

Zain winced, a shadow crossing his face. He sincerely hoped that Conrad, then weakened by the magic he had endured, wouldn’t remember him.

"I saw what you were doing earlier," Simonne continued, her voice full of admiration. "You really have a talent for event planning. You should consider making it a career, studying it next year in college..."

Simonne's words touched Zain, but he felt unable to think that far ahead. Uncertainty dominated his life. He didn't even know if he would still be in Redwaters, or even in this dimension, when their class would graduate and go off to university. This thought plunged him into deep anxiety. He fervently hoped that the scroll Hadrian and Ouray were trying to retrieve would reveal clues about his true identity. That it might finally allow him to make crucial decisions about his future, whether staying in town or, perhaps, going back home...

Simonne picked up two dresses she had set aside, one bright red satin and the other velvet emerald green. Holding them in front of her, she presented them to Zain with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I've narrowed it down to these two. Which one says more: 'It's been months since I slept with my missing boyfriend, but tonight, it's finally happening'?"

Zain couldn't help but smile at her remark. Simonne was stunningly beautiful, no matter which dress she chose. With her delicate features and graceful demeanor, she looked like a young Lucy Liu in "Charlie's Angels."

"I'd go with the red one," he replied after a moment of thought.

Simonne burst out laughing. "Mom will probably say I look like a slut, but I think the red one is the sexiest too..."

"I'm sure she'll find it very pretty," Zain replied, hoping that Patricia Samuels would keep her promise to compliment her daughter.

Simonne squinted, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "Is your mysterious friend that I saw you kissing at the game coming with you tonight?"

Zain felt his heart tighten slightly. "Hadrian? No..." he replied reluctantly. "Another… friend is taking me."

Simonne stared at him intently before giving him a conspiratorial wink. "Zain, well done! Not putting all your eggs in one basket! Very impressive, very European!"

Zain smiled, amused by her comment, but felt the need to clarify. "No, no... it's not like that. Hadrian is on a business trip... Garth and I are just good friends... nothing more..."

Simonne raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Just friends? And if Hadrian hadn't been in the picture, do you think you and this Garth would still be just… friends?"

Zain frowned, considering the idea for the first time.

He had never looked at it that way. He had met Hadrian as soon as he arrived in Redwaters, and a bond had formed between them almost immediately. He couldn't deny that he found Garth charming, with his flirtatious remarks, sly smile, and all his sexy tattoos…but his attachment to Hadrian was deep and unwavering...

Zain was abruptly pulled from his thoughts. He had completely forgotten to buy his tuxedo for the evening, too absorbed in the day's complications.

"I have to go! I'll make a quick trip downtown to find something to wear!" he declared, struggling to get out of bed.

Simonne headed towards an elegant rack tucked in the corner of the room and pulled out two stunning black suits. Approaching Zain, she held them up before him. "I asked the stylist to bring us options for you too. I had a feeling you wouldn't find what you wanted in Redwaters' ready-to-wear shops..." she said with a teasing smile.

Zain widened his eyes as she presented the two tuxedos to him. "So, are we feeling Tom Ford or Prada for the evening? Either way, Garth will be blown away and Hadrian will regret his business trip," Simonne joked, under Zain's delighted gaze.

 

——————————————-

The gala began with an enchanting symphony: violinists, dressed in black costumes, slid their bows across the strings, their faces illuminated by their passion for music. The notes floated in the air, mingling with the murmurs and laughter of the first guests. The waiters, in white livery, moved with choreographed meticulousness , their silver trays sparkling under the chandeliers. Outside, the valets greeted each vehicle with polite smiles, the headlights briefly illuminating their faces before disappearing into the shadows.

Inside, the cloakroom attendant collected coats with discreet efficiency, contributing to an atmosphere where everything seemed to fit together perfectly.

At the center of this whirlwind of elegance, Patricia Samuels radiated satisfaction. Her eyes sparkled as she greeted her guests with a smile worthy of a Southern belle.

From the top of the stairs, Zain and Simonne, dressed in their finest attire, observed the scene below. With a friendly elbow nudge, Simonne indicated to Zain that he had brilliantly succeeded in his endeavor. Below, Patricia gave him a discreet congratulatory wink, to which Zain responded with a smile before she returned to her guests, resuming her role as hostess with natural ease.

In the driveway, Sienna made her entrance in a provocative black dress, in sharp contrast to Rose's more understated style. At her arm, Raad advanced, feeling increasingly alienated as he watched the guests step out of their cars. Every detail of the evening, every face, every burst of laughter, reminded him of how different this world was from his own.

The crown prince's heart was heavy with doubts. He faced an insurmountable dilemma: should he capture his brother and deliver him to their father and the Dazaris to ensure peace between their peoples, or should he turn against them and join his mother's ranks? Each option carried irreversible consequences. Could he live with himself if he sacrificed his own brother, despite their differences? Underneath his divine appearance dressed in his tuxedo, with his mauve eyes hidden under black lenses, he felt increasingly uneasy under the admiring gazes directed at him, amplifying his paranoia and tension.

Fleur and Darcey arrived in turn. The red-haired witch, stunning in a long, sky-blue silk dress with a slit, drew all eyes, while Darcey, wearing a long ivory skirt and matching satin blazer, showcased a figure that neither pregnancy nor the passage of time had altered.

At the entrance, Patricia felt her body tense at the sight of Fleur. The Samuels matriarch had never been happier to see her son separate from Fleur, fervently hoping that the breakup was final.

Patricia's eyes narrowed into a thin line of disdain as she glanced over Fleur and Darcey. She took a deep breath and, with calculated coldness, said:

 

“ Fleur Willard, what a surprise! I didn't expect to see you tonight, not after abandoning my son. I see you're still wearing my mother's ring..”.

Her gaze pierced the air towards the engagement ring still sparkling on Fleur's finger. An acidic smile appeared on her lips.

“ Interesting”, she added with contempt.

Darcey, witnessing the scene, remained impassive, though the attack had clearly unsettled Fleur. In a relaxed tone, she then said to her granddaughter:

“ Fleur darling, could you get me a drink, please?”

Fleur nodded, her heart heavy. She walked towards the bar, trying to hide her sadness.

Darcey, displaying a broad smile, turned to Patricia.

“I don't believe we've ever been introduced”, she said calmly. “I am Darcey Willard, Fleur's grandmother”.

Patricia stared at her in silence, her hostility palpable. But Darcey, undeterred, continued:“ I know who you are, Patricia Samuels. Or should I say who you REALLY are... After all those marriages of convenience that pulled you out of poverty. It's surprising that you take such a dislike to my granddaughter when there's really nothing of interest about your son beyond the affection she has for him... Or perhaps that's what bothers you? That a union could be... non-transactional?”

Darcey, still smiling, then turned and melted into the crowd, leaving Patricia speechless, frozen in her restrained fury.

Still perched at the top of the stairs, Zain spotted Conrad's arrival. A wave of anxiety washed over him despite Simonne's radiant smile at the sight of her boyfriend. His heart raced at the thought that Conrad might recognize him.

Conrad climbed the steps with familiar ease, joining Simonne to give her a tender kiss. The young girl, her eyes sparkling with joy, turned to Zain.

“ Conrad, let me introduce you to Zain. He comes from Greece and has recently joined the cheerleaders!”

Conrad smiled warmly, extending a friendly hand towards Zain. But as soon as their fingers intertwined, Conrad's eyes narrowed, a flicker of perplexity crossing his face.

“ I feel like I know you, he said, scrutinizing Zain's face intently.”

Zain gave a nervous smile, feeling his pulse quicken.

“ I only arrived in town a few weeks ago, so it’s impossible. But nice to meet you. Simonne has told me so much about you”, he replied, trying to hide his unease.

Conrad, however, seemed troubled by scattered, elusive memories. As he struggled to remember, Zain suddenly noticed Garth entering the hall.

Garth, dressed in a dark suit and black shirt, exuded an unexpected elegance. The kinnara, usually sporting a punk style, looked like a model in a high-end perfume ad, Zain thought, blown away. His delicate tattoos and blue-tinged hair on his nearly shaved head added a touch of refined rebellion.

“ Excuse me... “Zain quickly said, escaping the palpable tension to descend the stairs towards Garth.

Simonne watched him leave with an amused look, « Just friends… » she thought nodding her head, as Conrad remained absorbed in his thoughts.

“ Simonne, I think that boy saved my life”, he murmured, his eyes fixed on Zain.

Simonne looked at him, incredulous. “Baby, that's impossible. It was Elliott who found you and took you to the hospital”, she said, trying to understand her boyfriend's assertion.

Conrad shook his head, a firm conviction in his voice.

“ No, before that... It was him who really found me... I'm positive.”

Simonne, bewildered, watched Zain at the bottom of the stairs, now deep in conversation with Garth. The mystery around Zain thickened, and tension hung in the air like a storm cloud, ready to burst at any moment.

 

"You were right, you do look good in a tux'. Zain complimented Garth.

The boy smiled mischievously before replying, 'You don’t clean up too bad yourself...' accompanied by a wink.

"So, as your backup date, what can I do to please you, sir?" Garth asked with a smirk.

Zain gave him a disapproving look before retorting, "As a…friend, you could join me in getting our hands on those delicious fried shrimps before they're all gone."

"Sounds like a plan," Garth agreed as they moved through the crowd, ready to enjoy the evening.

At the bar, Fleur, still troubled by her tense exchange with Patricia, picked up two glasses of champagne for herself and her grandmother. As she turned around, she froze upon seeing Sienna and Raad, her eyes widening at the sight of the witch inhabiting her half sister Rose's body.

With surprise gleaming in her eyes, Fleur addressed Sienna with restrained fury, "What are you doing here? have you no shame walking around in a body that doesn't belong to you... Rose doesn't deserve this."

Raad, was immediately captivated by the red-haired young woman, and the prince’s gifts allowed him to perceive her light. In disbelief, he could sense a benevolent aura of power radiating all over her.

While Fleur confronted Sienna, whose dark gaze betrayed obvious discomfort, the good witch added with fierce determination, "Whatever your evil plans are tonight, Sienna, I will thwart them. Soon, I will drive you out of Rose's body and back into oblivion. I promise you that much."

She gave Raad a final warning glance, "Don't trust her. She's not who she pretends to be." Then, holding the glasses firmly, she moved away to find Darcey.

As she tried to reach her grandmother across the room, Elliott stood before her. The officer stared at her intensely, struck by her beauty in that dress, reminiscent of the one she wore on their first date. To him, Fleur was everything, and he was willing to do anything to earn back her forgiveness.

"Fleur..." he murmured.

The witch, already tense from the events of the evening, downed one of the glasses of champagne in her hands.

Elliott then gently suggested, "Could we go somewhere to talk... away from all this noise?"

Fleur hesitated for a moment, then impulsively emptied the second glass intended for Darcey and headed towards the exit in agreement, with Elliott following behind her.

Further aside, Garth and Zain stood leaning against the bar, laughing wholeheartedly while devouring fried shrimp, a crispy delight that satisfied them with every bite.

"…so good!" Garth exclaimed enthusiastically, savoring the seafood. Zain nodded in agreement, adding, "Fried food is what really keeps me in your world ."

Garth smiled at his stance before asking the essential question: "Have you ever tried churros?"

Zain shook his head in negation, prompting Garth to explain, "It's a fried dessert..."

Zain's eyes widened in surprise at this revelation. "fried sugar?! That should be illegal!" he exclaimed, visibly excited at the thought of combining his two favorite pleasures into one.

"I'll bring you some… next time..." Garth offered with a smile.

Zain was enjoying their time together, despite missing Hadrian terribly. The immortal lingered in his thoughts, as did his recent conversation with Simonne about Garth. Perhaps if circumstances had been different, their relationship could have taken a different turn. But today, even though Zain was undeniably drawn to the Kinnara, his heart belonged only to Hadrian.

"Excuse me, I need to hit the restroom, I'll be right back," Zain suddenly announced, stepping away as Garth grabbed a few appetizers for them from a passing server, waiting for his return.

Zain pulled his phone out of his pocket to check for messages from Hadrian. Engrossed in his screen, he moved along without paying attention and accidentally collided with someone, causing his phone to drop to the ground. He quickly bent down to retrieve the device and looked up to apologize, finding himself face to face with Raad.

Raad's heart skipped a beat as he recognized his brother. He had hoped to remain unnoticed, to avoid being found out, but now all his hopes were dashed. A deep anxiety filled him as he confronted the uncertainty of what would come next. On one hand, he felt a clear sense of relief at seeing his younger brother's familiar face amidst the crowd of strangers, but on the other, his responsibilities to his people and the weight of his duty continued to torment him.

To his surprise, Zain timidly apologized, "I'm really sorry, I didn't see you there... I really need to pay more attention..." Then, with a sheepish smile, he resumed his path.

Zain didn't recognize him. Raad found it incredible. Could it be possible that his brother had no memories of his life before coming to this strange world? That he was unaware of the war his own existence had triggered in their universe?

"Mother," he instinctively thought. The Queen must have erased his memories before sending him here, to protect him from himself, to prevent him from trying to return home. That realization opened up many possibilities, including the easier capture of Zain if he remained unaware of their connection.

This turn of events, though potentially advantageous, did not simplify Raad's internal struggle. Even though he couldn't deny the joy of seeing his younger brother, his allegiance to their father was too powerful and weighed way too heavily on his shoulders.

 

Outside, away from the crowd, Elliott and Fleur faced each other in a heavy silence. Finally, Fleur broke the tension. "Your mother is as welcoming as ever..."

Elliott forced an awkward smile. "At least something is consistent..." Seeing Fleur’s unyielding expression, he quickly added, "Fleur, you've never cared about her opinion..."

Fleur seemed to weigh his words before speaking. "Maybe I should have. When I think back to us, I realize we might have rushed things. That in the end, we might not know each other that well..."

Elliott's heart sank at her words. "Of course we do, Fleur! You and I, our history, how I feel for you, what we've built together—it's more important than my mother's opinion..."

Fleur interrupted him, her voice tinged with realization. "I'm not only talking about your mother. I've tried so hard to compartmentalize my life with you from my life as a witch, separating the two..." She paused, emotion clouding her eyes, before continuing, "It's as if, unconsciously, I was ashamed... like playing a part... That of the perfect fiancée so you would love me, to avoid what happened to my parents from repeating itself..."

"Fleur... I love you, and I always will, whether you're a witch or whatever... I don't know much about these things, but you're not responsible for this affliction that plagues you..." Elliott tried to reassure her.

Though Fleur had always dreamed of hearing these words from the man she loved, the last part of his sentence hit her like a slap. She looked up at him, hurt, and asked, "Affliction? You think I'm cursed?"

Elliott stared at her, bewildered, as she continued, now with rising anger, "These powers, these gifts I have are legacies from my mother, from my ancestors, which I use for good. To help people…The fact that you see them as a curse shows just how incompatible we really are..." she finished, her voice trembling.

Elliott, panicked, tried to make amends, desperate to retract his words. This whole situation was foreign to him, with no handbook on how to handle discovering that his fiancée was indeed a real-life witch. But Fleur, at her wit's end after this disastrous evening, walked away from him, deeper into the garden, leaving him standing alone and lost.

From a dark corner of the room, Sienna watched the guests with a glint of envy in her eyes. These humans, despite the banality of their existence, had something she had never possessed: choice. Every decision, every moment belonged to them. She, on the other hand, was condemned to wander from body to body, stripped of almost all her powers, separated from those she loved, unable to fully experience life. It was an endless torture.

Her gaze desperately searched for Raad among the crowd. They needed to act quickly. As long as Hadrian was out of sight, Zaïn remained vulnerable. Suddenly, she felt a presence beside her. Darcey approached, her eyes bright with undisguised curiosity.

"So, you’re her... Sienna," she said softly. "It's not every day one meets their ancestor."

Sienna, surprised, blinked and didn't reply immediately. Darcey continued, with a mysterious smile, "I am Fleur's grandmother. Your daughter was my great-great-great-grandmother."

Shock registered on Sienna's face. "Have you come to threaten me, as Fleur did? I think I've had enough for one night."

"No, no," Darcey retorted, a tranquil smile on her lips. "I've come to talk to you. Unlike Fleur, I am not gullible." Her tone was impassive, almost cold. "Your victim act doesn't work on me, Sienna. I know there's a much larger stake behind your desire to resurrect your coven."

Sienna took a trembling breath. "Wanting to right the terrible injustice I suffered is my only driving force."

Darcey, undeterred, continued, "The sacrifice of those noblewomen in London in 1561... It wasn't just a cover to secure your place for the New World. It was a sacrifice ritual ." Sienna's eyes widened, unsettled. "To trap those innocent women and watch them burn at the stake... victims of their own barbaric society... It wasn't merely an act of vengeance, but a demonic pact. Thirteen lives exchanged for yours. Not a coincidence."

Sienna clenched her fists, searching for her words. "Whatever happened centuries ago, arriving at the colony changed me. Changed us all. Being away from the Church, away from persecution...Having my daughter was a my rebirth."

Darcey remained resolute. "Such a sacrifice, thirteen lives, doesn't just fade away with a change of heart. An energy that dark doesn't vanish over time or even with the power of love. You can lie to Hadrian and the others, portray yourself as THE victim in all this, but know that I've lived far too long not to see through falsehoods when I encounter them."

With graceful departure and no further ceremony, she left Sienna paralyzed by the shock of their conversation. Darcey's words echoed in her mind, plunging her into an abyss of doubts and dark memories.

Fleur, leaning against the wall in troubled semi-darkness, let her mind wander through the chaotic maze of her recent experiences. The past evening swirled in her thoughts, particularly her conversation with Elliot, as well as the events that had marked the last few weeks of her life. The dramas had escalated dizzyingly, leaving Fleur disoriented.

The assessment of this period was bittersweet, a series of trials that had confronted her with heartbreaking truths. She had finally solved the mystery surrounding her mother's murder, discovering in the process the existence of a half sister now possessed by her ancestor returned from beyond the grave. The solidity of her relationship, hitherto unshakable, wavered under the onslaught of fate. Losing a child she didn't even know she carried left an unexpected void in her, an indescribable pain.

Worse, her apocalyptic nightmare still loomed over the entire town, threatening to engulf everything she cherished. To top it off, her grandmother, both familiar and enigmatic, had reappeared in her life, bringing with her a troubled past and questions Fleur was not prepared to answer.

In this whirlwind of chaos and inner conflict, Fleur now felt like a stranger to herself. She no longer knew who she truly was, where her place in this world was, or what crucial decisions to make anymore.

Raad emerged into the peaceful garden behind the Samuel’s residence, stepping through the kitchen door with a sigh of relief. The night air filled his lungs, somewhat dissipating the tension weighing on his shoulders. The witch he associated with seemed increasingly unpredictable, and he knew he had to act with caution. But then, did it really matter? Entrusting Zain to this woman to abuse his powers as she pleased, or delivering him to his father and the Dazaris for similar motives... The weight of these choices resonated in each step he took on the paved garden path, under the moonlight.

Seeing Zain, even for a few seconds, had softened his heart, hardened by the challenges and conflicts that shook their home world. His younger brother seemed unaware of the dangers lurking around him, of the consequences of his tumultuous existence, and it troubled Raad deeply.,

As the designated heir of the Peris, he found himself once again envying Zain's innocence and lightness, while bearing the burden of responsibility and destiny on his shoulders. This existential dilemma tortured him, but he knew that his decision concerned more than just the two of them.

What kind of man, what kind of prince, what kind of king could Raad become if he sacrificed his own brother ? And yet, what kind of man, what kind of prince, what kind of king would he become if he allowed a single life to take precedence over those of thousands? The hidden designs of the Dazaris, their centuries-old quest for the Decryptor, revealed dark and undoubtedly dangerous intentions. The stakes of this quest unfolded like a complex web where each thread was laden with their intertwined destinies.

As he advanced in the garden, Raad saw her, leaning against the wall in the gentle moonlight. Her benevolent aura that captivated his gaze. The prince's powers allowed him to deeply feel her inner struggle and torments, amplified by the silent tear sliding down the corner of her cheek.

She possessed such enchanting beauty, her fiery red hair seeming to ignite the darkness of the night. Her presence was both pure and mysterious, a troubling blend of gentleness and depth.

Raad approached her almost instinctively, drawn by an inexplicable force that urged him to break the silence between them. An inner compulsion guided him, an indefinable certainty that he needed to be near her, to share even a moment in this nocturnal tranquility.

Fleur glanced at him and, surprised, wiped away a tear, and defensively said, "If it's your date who sent you, this really isn't the time!"

Raad raised his hands as a gesture of peace and replied, taken aback by her reaction, "No one sent me, I was just out to get some fresh air."

Fleur's face softened at his sincere tone, and she said, more calmly, "Sorry... I've had a long evening."

"Don't tell me about it..." Raad admitted, leaning against the wall beside her.

There was something deeply unsettling about him. Beyond his striking appearance, Fleur felt an odd familiarity in his presence.

"The woman accompanying you... it really isn't a good idea to be involved with her," she reiterated as a warning.

"My inability to distinguish between good ideas and bad ones is what led me to come out for some fresh air," Raad joked, a half-smile forming on his lips.

"Don't tell me about it..." Fleur repeated with a wink referring to his earlier remark before adding, "They say that sometimes… the best advice comes from strangers. Let's test that theory: How can one know, when he’s making the right choices, In your opinion ?

Raad crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly, silently reflecting for a moment before responding, "I think it's subjective... that there aren't really good or bad choices outside of how we feel when we make them. What's right for some can be a nightmare for others... It's all about perception."

Fleur furrowed her brow, absorbed in his words, before locking eyes with him. "Are you saying it's simply a matter of identity? That who we truly are would be the key to making the wisest choices?"

Raad nodded gently. "That's why it's important to know ourselves well enough to make informed choices."

Fleur was struck by his response, as if it were a revelation. She crossed her arms, lost in thought, and glanced away slightly. She, who doubted knowing who she truly was anymore, understood that she couldn't move forward confidently without getting to know her true nature, especially now that she felt she had changed so much.

She straightened up, locked her gaze with Raad's, a new determination shining in her eyes. "It's a theory worth exploring... Thank you… wise stranger!"

Raad flashed a smile, but his gaze remained serious. "Explore it while keeping in mind that I stepped out for some fresh air because I couldn't quite differentiate between good ideas and bad ones..." he joked, a glint of vulnerability in his eyes.

Fleur took a step back, ready to walk away, but something held her. She turned around, a hand delicately placed over her heart, as if to remember this moment.

"Raad, my name is Raad," he quickly pronounced, fearing she might disappear without getting it.

She paused, locking eyes with him intensely, before offering a discreet smile that made his heart beat a little faster. "I'm Fleur," her words resonated with an almost enchanting softness. Then, before he could respond, she turned on her heels and vanished around the corner of the garden, her light steps echoing in the calm night.

Raad stood there, motionless, his mind still buzzing. It was the first time since arriving in this dimension that he felt a sense of peace. Fleur's face, bathed in the silvery moonlight, had etched itself into his mind, an image both gentle and haunting.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the cool night air. Every detail of their encounter, every word exchanged, every shared glance, became a precious memory that he would now cherish.

Inside the Samuels' residence, the atmosphere was imbued with a certain magic. Conversations faded as the first notes of a violin cover of "Hallelujah" began to resonate. Garth, captivated by the melody, turned to Zain, his eyes shining with genuine emotion. "This song," he murmured, "is one of my favorites... I've never heard a violin cover before."

Around them, couples drew closer, entranced by the enchanting music, and began to dance in the center of the room. Simonne and Conrad, tenderly embraced, turned slowly under Zain's affectionate gaze. The beauty of the scene was undeniable, and Zain momentarily lost himself in the tableau.

Carried away by the music and the romantic ambiance of the evening, Garth turned to Zain with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Can a friend ask another friend for a dance?" he dared , his voice soft but filled with a certain nervousness.

Zain froze, surprised by the proposition. His heart raced as he took a few seconds to process the request. Then, seeing the sincerity in Garth's blue eyes and feeling touched by his friend's boldness, he relaxed and smiled gently. "Of course," he replied with a slight tremble in his voice.

They moved together to the center of the room, where other couples were already swaying to the tune. Garth gently took Zain's hand, his fingers interlaced with infinite tenderness. He placed a steady hand on Zain's waist, guiding him with a softness that made him shiver.

At first, Zain felt disconcerted, awkward in his movements. But Garth, with a quiet confidence, guided him harmoniously, their steps increasingly in sync with the music. The initial tension between them gradually faded, replaced by a budding complicity and mutual trust. Their eyes met, and Zain felt enveloped by a benevolent warmth.

In this intimate moment, Zain finally felt confident enough to ask a question that had been gnawing at him for some time. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "All this flirting, charm, and Witt ... is it really all…for me, or is it just to annoy Hadrian?"

Garth, surprised by the direct question, felt a slight pang of disappointment. He had hoped his intentions were clear without needing such explanation. Though taken aback, he did not let it deter him. With gentle movements, while continuing to lead the dance, he replied, "Zain, you’re an empath, right?"

The boy gave Garth a surprised look. The Kinnara continued in a calm and reassuring voice, "I saw it earlier, when you understood the source of my sorrow, and when we were at the loft saving the players from the paintings. You felt their despair... You feel things."

Zain nodded, still unsure where this conversation was leading. He had never really thought about this aspect of his powers, often more concerned with the immediate consequences of his emotions.

Garth gently took Zain's hand and placed it on his chest, where his heart was beating with intensity. "You just have to look. If I'm not sincere, if I'm just a jerk trying to annoy someone else, you'll see it."

Zain focused, his gaze locking onto Garth's. Under his fingers, he could feel the rhythm of Garth's heartbeat, but he knew it went beyond mere physical grasp. As the music continued to envelop them, a series of images and sensations washed over him.

He saw Garth flying over the clearing on the night of his arrival, a solitary figure in the dark. He felt Garth's concern as he passed by his window to make sure he was okay, with a protective vigilance. Their conversations, especially the one on the night of the massacre, came back to him with newfound clarity. With each exchanged word, Zain could feel Garth's heart beating a little faster, a symphony crescendoing until it overwhelmed him completely.

The visions and sensations engulfed him, revealing a raw sincerity, a desire for protection, and a growing, undeniable affection and attraction emanating from Garth. Overcome by this avalanche of emotions, Zain abruptly broke the contact by pulling his hand away.

He quickly disentangled himself from Garth's dancing embrace, his gaze lost. The world around him suddenly seemed too narrow, each beat of his heart echoing in his temples under the pression of the uncertainties. Without thinking, he rushed towards the exit, his breath short and his thoughts in disarray.

"Zain, wait!" Garth cried out, a note of anguish in his voice, as the boy disappeared into the crowd.

At the same moment, as Raad made his way back into the room, his face serene like an oil-slick sea after the storm, Sienna rushed towards him, her gaze dark and burning with fierce intensity. Her voice cut through the air like a sharp blade:

"Where the hell were you! This is the moment of truth, the kid just rushed out alone!"

Without waiting for a response, she abruptly pulled him by the arm, dragging him outside.

At the entrance of the property, Zain struggled to catch his breath. His legs were trembling, his hands clammy, and his mind whirled in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. His empathic abilities accustomed him to feeling others' emotions as if they were his own. But this time was different. This time, the intensity of the feelings overwhelmed him.

Every heartbeat, every breath of Garth resonated within him, shaking his certainties, unsettling his perceptions of what he felt himself for the boy...

Confusion paralyzed him, yet deep within, a persistent voice whispered that he could no longer ignore what he now knew.

In the shadows, Raad and Sienna scrutinized Zain with tension. Sienna, noticing that the boy's brother was overwhelmed by doubt, made a decision without hesitation.

"It's now or never, Big Boy... I'll handle this myself, but you're the only one with the necessary powers!"

Raad, torn by intense inner turmoil, struggled to overcome the confusion that paralyzed him.

Suddenly, blinding flashes tore through the darkness, casting menacing shadows around Zain.

The headlights of a vehicle pierced the night, dazzling Zain as he tried to shield his eyes from the intense light. Blue and red sirens accompanied this almost apocalyptic scene, while Officer Oliver descended from his police car, heading straight towards Zain.

"Zain?" called Oliver, his deep voice resonating heavily in the air.

Surprised, Zain barely nodded before the officer efficiently grabbed him, handcuffing him while reading his rights in an unwavering tone:

"You are under arrest for the aggravated assault of Cook Simmons, Dyson Brentwood, Kyle Wooford, Darren Clermont, Clint Collins..."

"Under arrest? They're the ones who attacked me, it was self-defense!" Zain protested, his voice filled with the anger of injustice.

Oliver continued without wavering from the procedures:

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you..."

Zain was in shock. Simonne had warned him that his attackers' parents might go far, but being arrested was beyond comprehension.

Sienna and Raad exchanged incredulous looks, frozen by this sudden and brutal turn of events.

Garth, who had come out to smooth things down with Zain, rushed towards his friend being loaded into the police car as the officer opened the rear door.

"Zain! What the fuck? Let him go !" pleaded Garth, his voice tinged with panic.

The officer ignored him, and Zain, trying to remain calm despite the tight handcuffs around his wrists, turned to Garth:

"Garth, find the video I told you about. The one they filmed during the attack."

Oliver closed the door of the police car on Zain, handcuffed in the back, while Garth stood there, powerless in the face of this sudden descent into hell...

 

Thank you for reading! Can’t wait for your feedbacks!

Are you team ZHADRIAN or ZARTH?