Alya The first thing Alya felt was cold. Not the chill of a hospital air conditioner, but a cold that seeped all the way into her bones. A cold that made her body feel weightless, as if she were drowning underwater. She opened her eyes. A stone ceiling stretched above her. There were no lights, yet the room was illuminated by blue lines flowing along the walls. Alya tried to sit up. Her head throbbed. “Don’t move too fast.” Kael’s voice came from the other side of the room. Alya turned. Kael stood beside a tall window. Beyond it, Elyndor looked like a city built from a nightmare. Towers rose above the fog. Glass bridges connected buildings suspended in midair. Every so often, winged creatures flew between the structures. Alya held her head. “Where am I?” “Your room.” “I don’t have a room here.” “You do now.” “I want to go home.” “You can.” Kael walked closer. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A long wound marked his left arm, looking like a burn scar. Alya stared at it. “Did Seraphine do that?” “No.” “Then who did?” “Not important.” “Everything that’s happened to me since I met you, you’ve always said it wasn’t important.” Kael stopped beside the bed. “You were unconscious for three hours.” Alya frowned. “Three hours?” “About four minutes in the human world.” “Raka?” “Still alive.” Alya let out a relieved breath, but the relief lasted only a moment. She looked at her left hand. The cracked crown mark was still on her wrist. The black lines had stopped spreading. But now, a small section looked as if it were disappearing, as though it had been burned from within. “What was taken from me?” Kael didn’t answer right away. Alya watched his face. “Answer me.” “Memories.” “I know they were memories. Which ones?” Kael looked out the window. “Memories of your mother.” The world seemed to stop. Alya lowered her head. She tried to remember her mother’s face. Long hair. A gentle smile. A warm voice. But every time she tried to picture that face, all she saw was an empty space. Like a photograph burned right through the face. Alya touched her own cheek. “No.” Kael remained silent. “I still remember my mother.” “Yes.” “I remember her voice.” “Yes.” “I remember how she always baked cookies every Sunday.” “Yes.” “I remember her hugging me whenever I had a fever.” “Yes.” Alya looked at Kael. “But I don’t remember her face.” Kael said nothing. Alya climbed out of bed. Her knees almost gave out, but she forced herself to stand. “Take me to Seraphine.” “No.” “You said I could meet her.” “I said you were being brought to Elyndor.” “Then take me to her.” “No.” “Why?” “Because she’ll take more.” “I don’t care.” “You’re the one who should care.” Alya laughed bitterly. “I’m the one losing memories. Not you.” “Not only you.” Kael pulled down his sleeve, covering the wound on his arm. Alya noticed the movement. “Does the contract hurt you too?” “No.” “Are you lying?” “I can’t lie.” “Then answer properly.” Kael looked at her. “I feel something when you lose a memory.” “What?” “Pain.” The answer left Alya speechless. “How much?” “Not important.” “Stop saying that.” Kael turned his face away. Alya surveyed the room. There was a small table in the corner, a shelf packed with books, and an iron door without a handle. On the table sat something that looked like a glass bowl filled with silver-colored water. “Is this place yours?” “Yes.” “How long have you had it?” “One hundred twenty years.” “And you live here alone?” “Most of the time.” “No family?” “No.” “Friends?” “No.” “A lover?” Kael was silent longer than before. Alya noticed immediately. “Was there ever someone?” “Not in the way you mean.” “What a strange answer.” “Your question was strange too.” Alya crossed her arms over her chest. “Seraphine said I was the last daughter of the guardians.” “She was wrong.” “Was she?” “Not entirely.” “Who was my mother, really?” Kael walked to the table and picked up the glass bowl. “I don’t know.” “Don’t lie.” “I don’t know who your mother was. I only know that she was once a guardian of the gateway.” Alya felt her heart drop. “A guardian of what?” “The gateway between the human and immortal worlds.” “This world is real?” “You’re in it now.” “And all this time, creatures like you have been living in human cities?” “Some of them.” “How did no one know?” “Because humans see what they want to see.” Kael poured the silver water from the bowl into a small glass. “When someone sees an immortal, their mind changes it into something that makes sense. A gateway guardian will look like a police officer. A vampire will look like a sick person. A witch will look like a wealthy business owner with too much influence.” Alya remembered the white-eyed woman at the gateway. “The person you killed earlier?” “A guardian.” “You killed her without hesitation.” “She was going to hand you over to Seraphine.” “So you killed her to protect me?” Kael looked at the glass in his hand. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” “It’s hard not to jump to conclusions when someone drives a shadow through another creature’s chest.” “That shadow won’t kill you.” “But you might.” “If the contract requires it.” Alya froze. Kael approached and handed her the glass. “Drink.” “What is it?” “Restorative water.” “Poisoned?” “No.” “Can it make me forget something else?” “No.” Alya didn’t drink it right away. Kael looked at her with an unreadable expression. “If I intended to hurt you, you would’ve been unconscious long ago.” “I don’t know whether that’s supposed to reassure me or threaten me.” “Drink.” Alya finally accepted the glass. The liquid had no taste, but it immediately made her head feel lighter. “How many memories can the contract take?” “The contract takes one memory every year.” “Seraphine took one now.” “Because she touched part of the contract.” “So she can take my memories whenever she wants?” “Not if I sever your connection to her.” “Can you do that?” “Yes.” Alya raised her head. “Then do it.” Kael didn’t answer. “You can sever it, right?” “Yes.” “Then why won’t you?” “Because there’s another price.” “There’s always a price.” “To sever the connection between the contract and Seraphine, someone has to become the new binder.” “What does that mean?” “The contract has to be transferred.” Alya felt a bad premonition. “Transferred to you?” “Yes.” “Then do it.” “No.” “Why?” “Because the new binder will take on every obligation of the contract.” “Aren’t you already a party to the pact?” “It’s not the same.” Kael set the empty glass on the table. “If the contract is transferred to me, Raka’s illness will be bound to my body. Every time it flares up, I’ll feel the pain. If he dies, I’ll die with him.” Alya fell silent. For the first time, she saw something beneath the calm on Kael’s face. Fear. Not fear of pain. Fear of death. “And you don’t want to die,” Alya said. “No creature truly wants to die.” “You’ve lived for three hundred years.” “One hundred twenty years.” “You said earlier that you’d lived for three hundred years.” “I’ve been in Elyndor for one hundred twenty years.” “Then before that?” “In the human world.” “As a human?” “Yes.” “How old were you when you became an immortal?” Kael turned away. “Twenty-seven.” Alya tried to do the math. “So you look like a twenty-seven-year-old man, but you’re actually…” “Stop counting.” “More than three hundred?” “Yes.” “That must be exhausting.” Kael looked at her with an unexpected expression. “Growing old is more exhausting.” “That’s not what I meant.” “I know.” The atmosphere in the room shifted. For a moment, Kael didn’t look like a cold, dangerous immortal. He looked like someone who had lived too long with a sorrow that had no end. Alya wanted to ask what had happened to him. But before she could open her mouth, Raka’s voice sounded inside her head. Sis… Alya stood at once. “Raka.” Kael turned too. “You heard him?” “He called me.” “The contract is connecting you.” “Take me home.” “You can’t go back in this condition.” “I don’t care.” “You just lost part of your memory.” “My brother is calling me!” Alya ran toward the door. The iron door opened before she touched it. Beyond it was a long hallway lined with mirrors. But the mirrors didn’t reflect Alya. They reflected Raka. Her brother appeared to be lying in a hospital bed. His entire body was surrounded by blue light. A doctor stood beside him, bewildered as Raka’s body temperature suddenly rose. Then Raka opened his eyes. His eyes were completely black. His lips moved. “Sis, don’t trust Kael!” the voice from those lips said. Alya held her breath. The image in the mirror changed. Raka was sitting up in bed. Behind him stood a tall, faceless figure—the creature Alya had seen in her brother’s room. The figure bent down toward Raka’s ear. “Tell her who killed your mother!” the creature whispered. The mirror cracked. Alya stepped back. Kael caught her by the shoulder. “What did you see?” “Raka.” “What happened?” “He told me not to trust you.” Kael clenched his jaw. “Raka is unconscious. He couldn’t send a message through the contract.” “Then who sent it?” One of the mirrors in the hallway lit up. It wasn’t showing Raka. It was showing a woman. Her long hair was black. Her face was pale. She wore a white dress stained with blood. Alya felt her entire body freeze. She knew that woman’s voice. The voice that had remained in her memories all this time, even though her mother’s face had been taken from her. “Alya,” the woman said from behind the mirror. Alya took one step forward. “Mom?” The woman in the mirror smiled. The smile was exactly as Alya remembered it. “Don’t trust Kael!” Kael pulled Alya away from the mirror. “Don’t touch it.” “That’s my mother!” “That isn’t your mother.” “How do you know?” “Because your mother is dead.” “How do you know that?” Kael fell silent. Alya stared at him. “How do you know my mother is dead?” Another mirror began to light up. One after another. In every mirror, her mother appeared. One was crying. One stood in the middle of a fire. One was hugging a young Alya. One glared at Kael with hatred. “I know,” Kael finally answered, “because I was there when your mother died.” Alya felt her world collapse. “What?” Kael didn’t look away. “I saw her get killed.” “Who killed her?” Kael closed his eyes for a moment. In the largest mirror, her mother raised a hand. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Then Seraphine’s voice echoed through the entire hallway. “Answer her, Kael.” Kael opened his eyes. “I did.” Alya froze. “What?” “I killed your mother.” No other sound followed. Even the whispers from the mirrors vanished. Alya stared at the man before her—the man who had saved Raka, who had brought her to another world, who claimed he didn’t want to hurt her. The man who turned out to be her mother’s killer. The mark on her wrist glowed red. The contract was responding to her emotions. Kael took one step back. “Alya…” “Don’t call my name.” “I can explain.” “You killed my mother.” “Yes.” “Then you saved my brother.” “Yes.” “Why?” Kael didn’t answer right away. Behind the mirrors, the shadows of her mother slowly turned black. “Because before I killed her,” Kael said, “I promised to protect her children.” Alya felt tears stream down her face. “And you’ve been protecting me all this time?” “No.” “Then what have you been doing?” Kael looked at the contract mark on his hand. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to hand you over to Seraphine.” The mirrors in the hallway shattered all at once. In the distance, footsteps echoed, drawing closer and closer. Someone was coming. Or something. Kael stood between Alya and the dark hallway. “If you still want to save Raka,” he said, “you’ll have to hate me later.” “Why later?” “Because tonight, we have to run.” “From whom?” Kael lifted his face. At the end of the hallway, two red eyes glowed in the darkness. “From the people who killed your mother.” Alya looked at him. “Aren’t you one of them?” Kael answered in a low voice. “I’m the one who last touched the sword.” Then the entire hallway filled with screams.