Episode ----18
Storm clouds bruised the horizon by afternoon, and the villa felt alive with uneasy whispers. Servants moved quicker, their eyes lowered; somewhere in the halls, a door slammed, echoing through stone like a warning.
Lina felt it too — a prickle under her skin, as though the walls themselves were bracing for something neither stone nor steel could stop.
But when she stepped into the courtyard, the world narrowed to a single truth: Ayan was there. Sword in hand, back to her, head bowed as if caught between prayer and regret.
She watched him for a moment, breath shallow. Even standing still, he seemed carved from motion — restless, coiled, and silently at war with himself.
"Ayan," she called, voice softer than she meant.
He turned, gaze finding hers instantly. Shadows ringed his eyes, as if sleep had been a stranger last night too.
"You came," he murmured.
"I said I would," Lina replied.
Something eased in his expression — not quite a smile, but close. "Then let's begin."
---
The lesson was harsher today.
Ayan's corrections sharper, his steps quicker, leaving her no time to doubt. Steel sang through mist-heavy air, her arms burning with each strike.
"Again," he ordered.
She stumbled, breath ragged, palms slick with sweat. "I can't—"
"You can," he cut her off, stepping forward. His voice was low, close to breaking. "You must."
The blade trembled in her grip. "Why?" she gasped.
"Because what's coming won't wait for you to rest," he said.
Their gazes locked, something raw sparking between them — anger, fear, and something tender neither dared name.
"Again," he whispered, softer now.
She lifted the sword. Her arms screamed, but she lifted.
---
Minutes stretched. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its edge. "Enough."
Lina's chest heaved; she let the blade drop to her side. Rain had started, fine as mist at first, dotting the stone with silver freckles.
"What happened?" she asked. "Something changed."
Ayan didn't answer at first. He wiped sweat and rain from his brow, gaze on the darkening sky. "Old debts," he murmured. "And old enemies who remember them."
"You mean those men from yesterday."
He nodded once. "They're not the worst of it."
"And me?" she pressed. "What am I in this?"
His gaze snapped to hers, dark and fierce. "The reason I haven't left."
The words stole her breath, even as rain turned heavier, cold drops running down her face.
---
A sudden crack of thunder split the sky.
Ayan stepped closer, barely an arm's length between them now. "Listen to me, Lina," he said, voice low, the rain catching in his hair. "If the worst comes — you run. Don't look for me. Don't wait."
"No," she said, shaking her head, heart pounding. "I won't."
"You must." His tone roughened, the mask cracking. "I can't fight if I'm thinking about you."
"And I can't breathe if I know you're out there alone!" she shot back.
Lightning flashed, briefly catching the lines of pain and longing on his face.
"You don't understand what I've done," he rasped. "What I am."
"Then show me," she whispered. Rain streamed down her cheeks, mixing with tears she refused to wipe away. "Let me see the monster you fear."
A beat of silence — so heavy it felt alive.
Ayan's eyes softened, the sword at his side lowering as if it, too, was tired of fighting.
"You'd regret it," he said, voice cracking.
"I'd rather regret truth than live with your silence," she breathed.
---
For a moment, the world shrank to rain, breath, and two hearts beating too fast.
Then Ayan lifted his hand — trembling, deliberate — and brushed wet strands of hair from her face. His touch burned like confession.
"You don't know what you're asking," he murmured.
"Then tell me," she urged. "Before it's too late."
His thumb traced her cheekbone, gentle in a way that felt dangerous, because it was real.
"I've taken lives," he confessed, words tasting of steel and ash. "Some deserved. Some… maybe not. And every night, I see them. And if you look at me with pity, Lina—"
"I won't," she promised, voice raw. "And if you ask me to run, I won't do that either."
"Then what will you do?" he rasped.
She swallowed, breath catching. "Stay. Even if it terrifies me."
---
Thunder rolled, closer now, shaking the broken walls around them.
Ayan's hand dropped, his expression torn open by something fragile and fierce. "Tomorrow," he whispered again — but this time, it sounded less like command, and more like hope.
"And the day after," she echoed, rain turning to a downpour, drenching them both.
For a single heartbeat, they simply stood there — two souls bruised by guilt and longing, refusing to step back.
In the distance, a new sound rose beneath the thunder: the distant drum of hooves, or engines, or something worse.
The storm had finally arrived.
---See you in next episode...