Maids moved quietly between them, setting platters of fruit, grilled meat, and warm breads with ceremonial grace.
“Sis-Mother,” Adina said, her voice soft, hesitant.
Anweshi paused mid-cut of her steak. “Yes, youngest?”
“At the Academy, they give us options for specialization.”
“I know,” Anweshi nodded. “They said there are fifteen military divisions. Each with its own training path.” She glanced to her right. “Isn’t that right, Joshua?”
“Yes, Big Sister,” Joshua replied, sipping from his goblet. “But none of the Black bloodline has ever chosen anything outside the Knight Order. So most of those options are… ceremonial.”
“Well,” Adina said, stealing a quick glance around the table, “I was thinking I might choose Angel Wing… instead of Knight.”
Joshua stopped chewing mid-bite. His eyes widened.
Josiah let out a laugh and spilled wine from his goblet. Joanna stared at Adina, then at Anweshi. The air tensed instantly.
“Excuse me?” Joshua asked, stunned. “You want to fly?”
“I don’t know…” Anweshi said carefully. “Why don’t you ask your big brother first?”
“He’ll kill her,” Josiah said with a grin.
“Absolutely,” Joshua nodded.
“Why would you even want that?” Joanna asked, curious more than judgmental.
“Because I love the stories Sis-Mother tells,” Adina said, eyes shining. “About the big metal birds… Airplanes.”
She turned to Anweshi with pleading eyes. “Can you ask him for me?”
Anweshi hesitated — but before she could answer, she noticed someone leaning against the marble pillar by the door.
Adam.
His arms crossed. His gaze unreadable.
“What is it you want to ask me, Anu?” Adam asked, walking forward. He slid into the empty chair beside Josiah, eyes fixed on her.
Anweshi opened her mouth but no sound came out.
Adam looked around. “What did I miss?”
Josiah coughed. “Uh… well… youngest wants to… um—” He suddenly raised his voice. “Adina wants to be an airplane!”
Adam blinked. “A what?”
“She wants to join the Angel Wing division,” Joanna clarified. “Not the Knights.”
Adam turned sharply to Adina. “What the hell are you thinking?”
Adina shrank a little under his voice.
“And how does this even connect to airplanes?” Adam shot a glare toward Anweshi.
“It’s not Sis-Mother’s fault,” Adina said quickly. “I just… I want to learn it. I want to fly.”
“Knighthood is for the Black family. Black blood stands with the Knights,” Adam said, voice firm. “There are no exceptions. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
“Ichaaya…” Anweshi said softly.
“Don’t even try to defend this,” Adam cut her off.
“But what if she learns both?” Anweshi asked gently. “What if she trains in Knighthood and Angel Wing?”
“That’s not possible,” Adam said. “It’s already a full schedule. There isn’t enough time in the Academy calendar.”
“I can train at home too,” Adina said quickly, cutting in before Anweshi could speak again. “I’ll work twice as hard. Please, Brother.”
Adam stared at her. The hall held its breath.
“…Fine,” he said finally. “One month. If you fail even one class test — Angel Wing is over. No arguments.”
Adina grinned and nodded quickly.
Then—
“Then I want to learn with the Hunters,” Josiah said with a smirk.
“I want to join the Beasts,” Joanna followed with a deadly calm.
Joshua slowly raised his goblet again. “I’d like to attend King’s Guard training.”
Adam groaned and leaned back in his chair.
He turned to Anweshi, accusingly.
“See what you started? If Father hears about this, I’m blaming you.”
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Joshua’s voice was quiet as he walked across the field, his boots brushing against the black petals underfoot.
The girl standing in front of the blue palace turned at the sound. Her eyes were already brimming with tears.
“I never thought I’d come back here,” Adina said, her voice trembling. “Every time I do… I miss her more than I can bear.”
Joshua stepped forward and gently pulled her into a hug. “Adina… I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered into his chest, clinging to him for a moment before stepping back and wiping her eyes.
She turned toward the palace, its crystal towers unchanged by time. “It looks exactly the same,” she said softly. “Do you… come here often?”
“Every day,” Joshua nodded. “Someone has to take care of her things. Clean the place. Keep it alive.”
Adina looked at him, confused, as he smiled faintly.
“Do you want to see someone younger?” he asked.
“Who?” Her brow furrowed.
“Someone you’ve waited to see for over twenty years.” He looked her in the eyes, his smile gentle now. “Do you want to meet our big brother?”
Her breath caught. “Are you serious…?”
“I am,” Joshua nodded. “I can’t face him. Not without breaking down. Someone needs to punch that bastard for leaving us all behind. And you're the only one who can do it.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass bottle, filled with a thick, swirling black liquid. He held it out to her.
“Make him drink this. Will you?”
Adina took the bottle slowly, her hands trembling. “Father…?” she whispered.
“I’ll take care of him,” Joshua said.
“And the war in the south?”
“If I have to ride there myself, I will,” he replied. Then, after a pause, his voice softened even more. “But bring him back home, Adina. Please. I can’t do this anymore.”
Without waiting for her response, Joshua turned and began walking back into the black flower field, his figure slowly swallowed by the swaying petals and soft wind.
Adina stood in silence, clutching the vial—holding in her hand the most precious medicine in the Empire.
It had been four days since Aaradhya disappeared.
No one knew how. No one knew who.
Shiva and John had used every resource at their disposal—contacts, satellites, even questionable informants—but nothing led anywhere.
And every passing day, John’s headaches grew worse, clawing at his mind like a living thing.
That night, Shiva had left to chase down their final lead, leaving John alone in the small apartment Aaradhya once called home.
The moment the door closed behind him, John drifted toward her bedroom like a ghost.
He stepped inside.
The room was quiet, untouched. Her scent still lingered in the air—lavender, ink, and something faintly metallic. The air felt too still, as though it were waiting for him.
His knees buckled.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
“Jo…”
The name echoed across the room like a prayer lost in time.
John’s eyes fluttered open. Everything was a blur.
The air shimmered. Shadows on the wall twisted like they were breathing. And at the center of the room stood a figure — blue eyes glowing softly, framed by long hair and the kind of smile that shouldn’t exist in nightmares.
Aaradhya.
He gasped.
“Aaradhya…”
His limbs trembled as he crawled toward her, each motion filled with desperate longing.
She didn’t speak.
She only smiled — still, serene, unnaturally perfect.
Then—
“You just called Father,” she whispered, though the voice didn’t belong to her.
A male voice. Low. Too calm. “He called me.”
The figure twisted, her face rippling like a broken mirror — and suddenly, she was gone.
In her place stood a towering shadow, cloaked in black. It laughed — a hollow, cracking sound.
“One more step… and that’s it.”
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The shape shifted again. Became a stunning woman — so unnaturally beautiful it felt like a lie.
Then a grinning boy: “You know, brother, I’d follow you to the end of the world.”
Then another voice. A familiar chuckle: “It’s just what you did, isn’t it?”
Now a young girl hovered in the center of the room, feet just above the floor, whispering:
“Brother… why won’t Mother wake up?”
A small boy appeared, sobbing into his hands.
“I don’t want to eat! I want to go there!”
A little girl now, red-eyed, throwing a plate to the ground.
And then—
“Ichaaya… why do you always go alone? Why don’t you ever bring me with you?”
She stood before him again — the girl with the deep blue eyes. This time, her smile cracked at the corners.
John reached for her.
His hand was inches from hers—
And then he saw it.
A shadow at her feet. Moving.
Alive.
It paused for just a breath, as if recognizing him.
Then it leapt.
Straight at his face.
The scream shattered inside him, but no sound left his lips.
John clutched his head. The room vanished.
An invisible force closed in from all sides. The void trembled. A hum — like a thousand whispers — filled the air.
And then—
Memory.
It crashed into him like a tidal wave. No warning. No mercy.
A thousand images.
- Adina’s first flight.
- Josiah’s bloodied hands.
- A kiss in a garden.
- A door slamming shut.
- “Ichaaya, why don’t you ever take me with you?”
- “Brother, he’s not breathing—he’s not—”
- “She chose you over the Empire.”
- “I was never meant to be king.”
- “You promised to come back—!”
Each heartbeat cracked the void. His limbs shook. His breath caught.
He dropped to his knees.
“Who… am I really?” he whispered.
The shadows stirred.
Something was watching.
Then—
A child’s voice:
“Father… what’s out there, beyond the gate?”
A vision bloomed — hazy at first, then clear.
A small boy stood before a door suspended in endless black. Shapeless shadow-men stood around it.
“Out there,” a deep voice answered, “are people with no magic, no monsters. Only fragile peace.”
Snap.
The image vanished.
“Why do I have to go there?!”
The boy’s voice cracked into sobs.
A beautiful woman knelt before him, cradling his face.
“It’s the duty of the Crowned Prince.”
“Then I don’t want to be Crowned Prince anymore,” he wept. “I’ve been there for so long. Can’t I just… stay here now?”
“If you don’t go,” she said softly, “your brother will have to.”
The boy looked toward a bed. Two sleeping twins.
“He’s too sweet,” he whispered. “It would break him.”
“Then go, my son. And return when it’s time.”
Shatter.
The memory cracked like glass.
“He’s so cute!”
Joy exploded behind him.
The boy — older now — stood beside a newborn swaddled in his mother’s arms.
“Mother, what will you name him?”
“Something that rhymes with yours…”
“Make it rhyme with Joshua!”
Laughter. Warmth. Light.
Gone.
“Brother…”
A child clung to him.
“Mother won’t wake up…”
A woman in black approached.
“The Queen has died in childbirth, my Prince.”
“The baby?”
“Alive. A girl.”
He turned to the crying infant.
Gone.
“One follows you. The other copies you,” a girl’s voice laughed.
He turned.
It was her.
Blue eyes. Mischief. The girl who once made the palace feel alive.
“You’ve got amazing siblings,” she said. “They adore you.”
He took her hands.
“They can be yours too. You have no one left here, right?”
“But I’m not a mage…”
He kissed her forehead.
“For you, I’ll open any gate. Just come with me.”
The memory faded into black.
Now the void returned — vast, empty, unending.
But an image stirred again.
A boy. Collapsed beside a broken car.
A figure cloaked like a grim reaper stepped toward him.
“Young Master. Your father asked me to tell you this:
The more you struggle to remember, the more you forget.
The more you try to forget, the more you remember.
This is the curse of Memory Binding.
Do not chase the past. Do not run from the pain.
Walk through it. And everything will return.”
The mist dissolved.
Then—
“John Abraham.”
A voice cracked behind him.
He turned.
And there — floating in the dark like a reflection in broken glass — was himself.
His mirror image.
A perfect 3D copy, cloaked in shadow.
“A name my mother gave me… when she sent me to the human world.”
“You remember it now?” he asked gently.
John said nothing.
“Banishment. One hundred years. Memory Bind.”
“Not the worst punishment, considering the law I broke.”
The figure drifted closer.
“Even after a century… no one has undone a memory bind. If a mage breaks it, you lose your mind. If you do it yourself… you risk breaking everything.”
“But I found a loophole. With Father’s help. And now…”
He smiled.
“I am you, John. I am what you forgot.
Sixty-five years of memory.
Everything you learned.
Everything you lost.
Your anger. Your genius. Your power.
The boy who once rivaled Akshayaguna Chāyaja — the Bloody Emperor.
We are Adam John Black”
John’s breath hitched.
The mirror-self turned into black smoke—
And entered his body.
A door appeared in the dark.
The door.
The same one from the boy’s vision.
Its handle turned.
Click.
The void shattered like glass.
And then—
Silence.
John collapsed.
Somewhere far away — through a tear between worlds — a voice whispered:
“Wake up, Ichaaya… You’ve been gone too long."
John slowly opened his eyes.
The floor beneath him was cold. Solid. Real.
He took a breath—shaky, uneven. The weight of a thousand memories still lingered in his chest like smoke.
Above him, soft light spilled through the half-open curtains, casting gentle beams across the room where shadows had once danced.
On the bed, a young girl sat, legs folded beneath her. Her eyes shimmered with quiet anticipation.
“Ah… finally, you wake, brother,” she said, her voice playful—but threaded with tears.
John blinked, slowly sitting up, disoriented by the world around him. His mind swirled with fragments.
He stared at her, searching her face. That gaze, those eyes…
Where have I seen her before?
Then—like a puzzle piece snapping into place—he knew.
The girl tilted her head, her expression unreadable now. “So… who are you right now?” she asked gently. “John Abraham? Or Adam John Black?”
The question pierced something deep.
John closed his eyes, his hand going to his temple. Names, memories, emotions—his life split in two like a torn page—battled for space inside him.
And then, softly—almost like a breath:
“You’ve grown, youngest.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I missed a lot… didn’t I?”
For a heartbeat, she didn’t speak. Her lips trembled, as if caught between laughter and grief.
Then, with a sudden sound—a small joyful giggle cracked by a sob—she leapt from the bed and threw herself into his arms.
Her hug was fierce. Desperate.
“I missed you too, brother…” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “So much…”
John wrapped his arms around her. And in that moment—no matter what his name was, no matter what world he came from—he knew exactly who he was.
“Sis, look up!”
A soft giggle echoed across the field of swaying black flowers. Overhead, a young girl glided through the air with fluttering grace, her small obsidian wings beating against the wind like fragile petals.
Joanna, standing among the flowers, looked up with a soft smile as the girl soared above her—until the wings began to dissolve mid-air, flaking away like ash in the breeze.
“Adina—!”
Too late. The girl fell, landing with a splash in the narrow canal that cut through the flower field like a silver ribbon. Joanna rushed to her side.
“Why won’t it stay longer?” Adina asked as she surfaced, brushing her wet hair away from her eyes while swimming toward the edge.
Joanna extended a hand to pull her out. “Did you aim for the water?”
“I stayed above it the whole time,” Adina muttered, gripping her sister’s hand.
“And who told you to always hover over the canal?” Joanna asked, raising an eyebrow as she helped her onto the grassy edge.
“Sis-mother,” Adina said, glancing toward the distant castle rising like a dream in the middle of the field. “She said to always fly above the canal, so even if I fall, I’d fall into the water—not the ground. Where is she anyway”
Joanna followed her gaze to the pale blue palace. Its spires gleamed like crystal under the muted sun. “Big sister? I think she’s with Josiah. He was nagging her all morning—said he had something new he wanted to show her.”
“Did he really learn anything that isn’t forbidden?” Adina asked, wringing out her sleeve.
“I don’t know,” Joanna replied. “Sis was sneaking him a lot of texts behind Father’s back. Maybe he found something useful.”
They started walking, the flowers brushing against their legs as the breeze whispered secrets only children could understand.
Adina glanced sideways. “Have you ever wondered what might’ve happened… if big brother never found Sis-mother? If he ended up with someone else?”
Joanna stopped. “No. Never did.”
“Why not?”
Joanna looked at her sister, then at the castle. “Because she’s here. She might be the best thing that’s ever happened to this family. To all of us. So why waste time thinking otherwise?”
Adina’s expression darkened with a rare seriousness. “Because… if you do think about it, you realize something.”
“What?” Joanna asked, taken aback.
“You’d realize you wouldn’t be this kind. Joshua would’ve grown distant—just like Father. Josiah might’ve been cast off as nothing but the family’s shadow. And I—I’d never have learned to fly. Or even magic. I think about the ‘what ifs’ not because I doubt her… but because it makes me understand how much she changed everything.”
Her eyes turned toward the distant figure—a woman laughing softly as young Josiah flailed, trying to summon wind magic with exaggerated flair.
“I think about the ‘what ifs’... because I’m terrified of a life without her.”
Joanna stood in silence for a moment, then smiled at the scene ahead—at the laughter, the joy, the strange warmth that wrapped their broken family together like light in a dying empire.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “You’re absolutely right.”
“I told you not to,” Josiah said coldly, arms crossed as he stared down at Aaradhya. His disappointment was sharp, like a blade barely sheathed. “Why can’t you just stay put, girl?”
Aaradhya stood her ground, but the fear was unmistakable in her eyes—coiling in her chest like a trapped bird.
“I can fix that,” Joanna said with a cruel smile, unsheathing her dagger. “Let’s see how far she runs with no legs.”
She stepped forward.
Aaradhya flinched back. Her breath hitched.
Then—
“And what after that?”
The voice came from behind, calm and deep—coated in something dangerous.
Joanna froze, her blade hovering mid-air. “After that… what?” she asked, turning toward the voice.
A man stood in the doorway. His dark coat stirred with the faint wind behind him, his eyes sharp as storm light.
Adam.
“What if I’d come for her,” he said, stepping into the room, “only to find my beloved in pieces?”
Joanna hesitated. Her hand dropped. “Brother…”
Josiah rushed forward first, eyes wide. “Why did it take you so long!?”
Joanna followed, a mixture of guilt and relief in her face.
Adam smiled and embraced them both. “Memory binding,” he said lightly. “Not easy to break something sealed that deep.”
Then he snapped his fingers.
Aaradhya crumpled to the floor, unconscious—gently, like a puppet whose strings were cut without violence.
Adam knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His voice dropped to a whisper only his siblings could hear.
“How many things will I have to ask her forgiveness for…”
Joanna looked away. “Kidnapping. Locking her away. Threats.”
Josiah raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t lay a finger on her—swear to the Shadows.”
“Better,” Adam said quietly. “But I owe her more than words.”
Adam stood tall, his voice sharpening like a blade drawn from its sheath.
“Joanna… you have a Traveler in your squad.”
She blinked. “One? My oldest maid—she was a Traveler. Why?”
Adam’s gaze remained steady. “Use your link. Tell your soldiers to meet you at the southern front.”
He turned to Josiah next. “Wind magician—lift her,” he said, nodding to Aaradhya’s unconscious form. “Carry her gently. As softly as you can.”
Josiah hesitated, arms already wrapping around her. “But brother… where are we going?”
Adam's smile was soft, but filled with gravity. “To the Empire. To my garden.”
A familiar voice chimed in behind them.
“Just sightseeing,” Adina said, stepping in with her usual lightness, her presence immediately brightening the space. “It’s my first time seeing this side of your mess, big bro.”
With a playful swing, she hooked an arm around Joanna’s neck. “Trying to amputate someone’s legs? That someone being our brother’s lover? You’ve grown up in all the wrong directions.”
Joanna let out a shaky, breathy laugh—part guilt, part relief—and hugged her back. “Message received.”
Adina turned to Josiah next. He stood awkwardly, still cradling Aaradhya, unsure whether to smile or stay solemn.
“I can’t hug you,” he said, shifting his arms slightly. “Kind of holding something important here.”
A gentle gust of wind swept over Adina’s hair.
She smiled. “That counts too.”
Then Joanna stepped forward again. “Brother… we're not frequent Travelers. Opening a gate like that would drain each of us for a week—minimum.”
Adam raised his hand calmly. The air began to shimmer around them—folding, shifting—space bending like silk caught in a sudden gust.
A dark portal bloomed before them, swirling with deep shadows and a faint golden glow from within.
Josiah let out a low whistle. “You still got it.”
Adam smirked. “A little memory-bind hangover isn’t enough to ground your big brother.”
“Memory binding…?” Josiah tilted her head. “Wait—what exactly is that now?”
“I’ll explain,” Adam stepped into the gate “When we’re home.”
“Hey… sorry if I woke you,” Adina said softly.sss
Aaradhya stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, her body still heavy with fatigue. The world around her felt strangely quiet.
She blinked. The room was bathed in soft shades of black and blue. The walls were lined with delicate silks, glowing crystals suspended like stars, and little charms that hung from the ceiling.
It looked like a teenager’s room—if that teen also happened to be royalty.
Aaradhya lay on a wide bed, her head resting on satin pillows. Beside her, sitting cross-legged on a cushioned chair, was a girl with bright, curious eyes and an easy smile.
“Where… where am I?” Aaradhya asked, her voice still hoarse with sleep and confusion.
“My room,” the girl answered cheerfully. “Haven’t used it in a while, but it’s still cozy. I guess the maids missed me.”
“You…” Aaradhya’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying her. “Who are you?”
The girl pouted playfully. “Oh no. Don’t tell me big brother forgot introductions again.”
She straightened and offered her hand. “Adina John Black. You can call me Adina—or ‘Youngest,’ like my brothers and sisters do.”
Aaradhya hesitated, then shook her hand slowly. “I... don’t understand.”
Just as she began to ask something, Adina cut in with a grin. “Aaradhya, right? Big bro said you’re a chai addict.”
She opened her palm with a small flourish. In a swirl of soft light and shimmer, a cup of steaming chai appeared in her hand.
“Ta-da,” she said, gently placing it into Aaradhya’s hands.
Aaradhya stared at the cup, then at Adina. “Your brother?”
“Oh right, again,” Adina said with mock forgetfulness. “Big brother said his memory was bound… so he might’ve forgotten to tell you.”
She leaned forward with a warm smile.
“Adam John Black,” she said. “He’s my brother. Your John.”
Aaradhya looked at her, stunned. Her grip on the teacup tightened slightly. “No… that can’t be…”
Adina’s voice softened. “I know it’s a lot. But don’t worry—I’ll explain everything. From the beginning.”
And she did not stop smiling. Not once.
Because despite all the chaos, all the shadows, and all the scars that lingered between their worlds—this moment was calm.
And sometimes, a warm cup of chai and a sister’s smile were the best way to begin the truth.