Fourteen

She jolted awake with a sharp gasp, her head pounding against her skull.

And there, hovering above her, was Jan’s face, eyes wide with concern, her brow furrowed in worry.

“Arrella, are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but urgent.

“Jan? What—what are you doing here?”

Jan’s surprise flickered for a moment, but she quickly masked it, her face settling. “I just got back from the border.” She paused, her gaze scanning Arrella’s face. “Do you remember what happened?”

Arrella’s mind raced, fragments of memories crashing together—the warmth of Rovin’s smile, their confessions in the fading light, the moment they touched, the pull of the curse.

She sprang up, panic surging through her veins. “Where’s Rovin?” Her eyes darted around the room, landing on the empty space where the portrait had once hung—a bare wall now staring back at her.

Jan’s gaze flickered, his voice soft with unease. “Rovin?”

Arrella’s breath caught. “Rovin Artten. The painting… he was right there.” She gestured toward the empty spot on the wall, her voice trembling.

Jan hesitated, pressing her lips together as if trying to piece something together. “I… I don’t know what you mean, Arrella.”

She grabbed her arm, desperation creeping into her voice. “Jan, please. Where is he? Rovin—he was in the painting, I sealed him there. You have to know where he is!”

Jan’s expression remained unreadable, but she could see a cloud of doubt rising in her eyes, something she was holding back. Jan’s lips pressed together tightly, and her gaze flickered away, as if searching for a way to avoid the truth.

Arrella stepped closer, her pulse racing. “Please,” she rasped, voice breaking. “I need to know where he is.”

After a long, painful silence, Jan finally spoke, voice tight. “He’s… in the basement.”

Arrella’s heart skipped. “What? Why’s he there?”

Jan exhaled slowly, guilt creeping into her features. “Aiden took him. He’s trying to… do something. He’s going to try cutting his frame.”

Her stomach turned, and without another word, she bolted for the basement door, her breath quickening. She knew the risk, but she had no choice. She had to get to him, needed to see him—alive, even if it was only in his painted form.

She burst through the basement door, and the sight that greeted her took her breath away. Aiden stood over Rovin’s portrait, a sword in hand. He was carefully slicing the edges of the frame, his movements precise but slow, as though he was trying to cut away at the very thing that had trapped Rovin in the first place.

Aiden froze as the door slammed open, his gaze flashing toward her. “Arrella,” he said, his voice calm but laced with something unreadable. “I didn’t want you to see this.”

Arrella’s pulse thudded in her ears. “What are you doing? Why—why is he here?”

Aiden sighed, setting the sword down and looking at the painting. “I’m not trying to hurt him,” he said quietly, the weight of his words sinking in. “I’m trying to free him. He doesn’t belong trapped in that frame. I need to take him with us.”

Arrella blinked, her mind racing. “What do you mean?”

Aiden nodded, his eyes shadowed with regret. “I can't explain everything right now, but I found something—something that can save him.”

Her gaze flickered toward the painting, and for a brief moment, the stillness seemed to echo with Rovin’s voice. "How?"

Aiden paused, his eyes dropping to the floor, his words heavy. "I don't know for sure. But I found a journal. Some pages are missing, but it mentions a way to break the curse. If we can find the rest of the pages... we can free him."

Arrella’s heart sank as the truth began to settle in. The journal—it was hers. And she knew what he didn’t. The truth about the missing pages.

“How did you find the journal?” she asked, her voice tight as she tried to steady herself.

Aiden met her gaze with a look of quiet determination. "Mira gave it to me when I was at the border," he said, his words holding a depth that made Arrella pause. "I think he knew we’d need it someday."

She stood frozen for a moment, her thoughts racing. Mira... of course. She could see into the past and the future. Her past selves must have given Aiden the journal, a part of a plan she'd set in motion long before. It all made sense now.

Aiden's voice grew firmer as he continued, a sense of determination threading through his words. "I’m part of the Reclaimers, the resistance against the king. I lead them, and we’ve been infiltrating the castle, gathering allies for a coup."

Her breath caught. "A coup?"

He nodded grimly, his gaze hardening. "We can't keep waiting for things to change, not while my father’s still in power.”

Aiden’s jaw clenched, his words bitter. “He never loved me. I was only a tool for him to use.”

Rovin glanced at his brother, gaze sharpening, voice edged with grief. “No. You are not just a tool. Don’t let him convince you that’s all you are.”

Aiden’s eyes shifted to Rovin, a cold glint settling in. "That's why I became the perfect pawn for him. He'll never see me coming."

He turned towards Arrella, his face taut with urgency. “We know how to save you both. But we need to move to the Reclaimers’ base. Now.”

Before she could respond, the door crashed open with a deafening noise.

It was the king.

Eero Veron stormed in, his presence filling the room like a thundering storm, charged with rage. His footsteps echoed with authority as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene with cold calculation. The tension was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down.

He paused, his gaze flicking between Aiden, Arrella, and the heavy portrait. His lips curled into a thin sneer, the fire in his eyes revealing the fury that had been simmering beneath his composed exterior.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Eero drawled, his voice dripping with venom as he stepped further into the room, his boots scraping against the stone floor with a menacing echo. His gaze locked onto Aiden, his eyes narrowing.

The room crackled with tension as Aiden’s hand tightened around his sword, muscles coiled. His eyes never left the king’s. Eero’s voice was a low rumble, thick with mockery.

"You think you can take me down?" He pulled out his sword. “This is your last chance to save yourself and your friends, Aiden. Leave the resistance and hand me that painting. The rebellion won’t save you.”

Aiden’s gaze hardened, his jaw set in determination. He took a step forward, his sword raised.

“I’ve already made my choice,” he said, his voice steady. “The rebellion is the only chance we have to stop you, and I won’t let you tear it down.”

The king let out a cold, mirthless laugh, the sound ringing ominously through the chamber.

“You think this is about you?” Eero jeered, stepping closer. “You’re just a boy fumbling in a world built by men far greater than you. You don’t understand the costs of keeping a kingdom from collapsing beneath fools. You mistake your tantrums for justice. That’s not strength—it’s stupidity. And it’ll get everyone you care about killed.”

His mouth curled in contempt, voice dipping into a low, poisonous snarl.

“Hand over the painting, or I’ll burn everything down to ash—starting with her.”

He flicked his gaze toward Arrella, his threat hanging like smoke in the air.

His fingers curled around the hilt with bone-deep resolve. Arrella felt the word before he spoke it.

“No.”

Eero’s lip curled. “Be my guest.”

With a snarl, the king lunged first, sword flashing in the dim light. Aiden barely parried in time, their blades clashing with a ring that echoed off the stone walls. Sparks danced as metal scraped metal, Eero driving forward with brute strength while Aiden countered with precision and speed.

They moved in a deadly rhythm, circling each other—Eero’s strikes wide and forceful, Aiden ducking and twisting to evade, slipping between shadows. Aiden’s blade sliced across the king’s arm, drawing blood, but Eero only sneered and came back harder, faster.

“You’re weak,” Eero spat, slashing down with the weight of fury behind his strike. “Just like your mother.”

Aiden’s eyes blazed. He knocked the blade aside and retaliated with a flurry, driving the king back with renewed ferocity. The room trembled with the force of their battle. Arrella reached out to shield Rovin’s painting just as the king's sword came within inches of the frame.

Blood and sweat trickled down Aiden’s brow, his breath ragged. He pressed forward with a roar, matching each of Eero’s savage blows with unwavering resolve.

Then—Eero staggered. Just a hitch in his breath, a wobble in his footing.

Aiden slowed, hesitation rippling through him.

That’s when the king’s knees buckled, his sword dropping with a loud clang. He gasped, clutching at his chest, face contorting in confusion and resentment.

Jan stood across the room, holding up a veiled flask, hissing faintly with vapor. Her eyes met Arrella’s.

“It’s done,” she stated, a cold finality in her words.

Jan stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with quiet triumph as she stood over the king’s fallen form. The world seemed to hold its breath, the weight of victory and loss settling in, leaving them all suspended in the fragile silence of what came next.

Arrella realized a heavy breath. The faintest scent of herbs lingered in the air, and she realized the truth. The poison had been in the room all along, slowly filling the air.

“Jan,” her eyes widened, “You—”

Jan gave a grim nod. “Everyone’s immune, except for him. The healers have been slowly administering it to everyone but the king.”

Arrella stared at Eero’s body, slumped and lifeless against the cold floor. The fleeting relief she had vanished in an instant, replaced by a rising wave of panic.

He wasn’t supposed to die this soon.

She felt the air thicken, an icy chill crawling up her spine. The timeline was already beginning to shift.

She stepped forward, her hands trembling. “This… this changes everything.” Her eyes flicked to the others, the weight of her words sinking in. “The timeline is going to reset soon. We don’t have much time. We need a new plan.”

Jan and Aiden exchanged a look, fear flickering in their eyes.

“What? What do you mean?” Jan asked quickly, her voice tight with urgency. “Why is it shifting? What’s happening right now?”

Aiden’s eyes darted between them, his brow furrowed. “Arrella, talk to us. What’s going on?”

Arrella’s eyes met Rovin’s, and he gave her a brief, quiet nod—like he knew what she was asking, even before the words left her mouth. She swallowed hard, the weight of what was coming pressing on her chest.

“We can’t just let it reset,” Aiden said, his voice tight with frustration. “Not after everything. There has to be a way to fix this.”

Jan shook her head. “We don’t have enough time. We can’t change what’s already happened.”

Arrella closed her eyes, her heart racing as the crushing reality settled around her. For a moment, she let the silence stretch, trying to catch her breath. When she opened her eyes, Rovin met her gaze—unwavering like the darkest depths of the ocean, untouched by the waves above.

Her pulse thrummed in her ears, the world narrowing until it was just him and her, and the truth of what was about to happen.

She took a shaky breath, her throat dry, and then steeled herself. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was thick with urgency, the weight of her fear pressing down on her. “Can you reset the timeline at will?”

Rovin’s gaze softened, but his silence spoke volumes. She saw the answer in his eyes.

“Yes,” he replied, the word simple yet tragic. Fatal. Inescapable.

Arrella’s stomach twisted, but she kept her focus. She had resolved herself to do this. There was no going back.

“I’m going to seal our powers,” she said, her words final, the decision already made in her heart.

Rovin’s lips thinned into a sad line. “That’s what you wanted to do before you sealed me in a painting,” he replied, his voice low and pained. “But I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

Arrella’s eyes flickered with sorrow, but she nodded. “It’s the only way.”

“I know,” Rovin whispered, his voice tight with the weight of her decision.

Jan, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, her expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “But… what about us?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What happens to us?”

Arrella looked at Jan, the pain in her eyes unmistakable. The weight of everything they had been through together—the love, the struggles, the bond—was now about to slip away.

“In another life, I hope we can still be friends, Jan,” she said softly. “I love you like a sister.”

Tears spilled from Jan’s eyes. She blinked rapidly, face crumpling. “Is this the end?” Her voice was fragile, barely a whisper, as if saying it aloud might make it too real.

Arrella’s heart broke. She wanted to say more, to hold on to the words that could save them, but the truth was, there was no time for anything else. She shook her head slowly, eyes glistening. “No,” she whispered back, her words barely escaping, but firm all the same. “It’s not the end. It’s just… another beginning.”

Jan’s hands trembled at her sides, breaking into a sob. Aiden rushed to her, pulling her close, his arms tight around her. His gaze flickered to Arrella, offering her a sad smile—one that spoke of loss, of the goodbye that was already too heavy to bear.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud—though they swelled in her throat, heavy and unspoken. The emotion surged within her, threatening to overwhelm her body, but the words stayed locked behind her lips, too painful to release. She simply held his gaze, the silent promise between them heavier than any words.

Aiden’s crinkled at the edges with warmth, his lips quirking into a bittersweet smile.

“I will always love you, Arrella Rumore,” he whispered, voicing the words burning through her, raw and unwavering.

Her breath caught, a tear slipping from her eye as she whispered back, “Find me.”

“Always,” he vowed softly.

And then, as if the world was holding its breath, they raised their hands and touched. In the same instant, one rewound time itself, erasing everything that had come before, while the other sealed it all away—locking every memory, every thread of power, inside the frames that had once held Rovin.

Arrella thought of her happiest memories—feeling the winds nip at her rosy cheeks as she chased Jan and Mira through the lavender fields, savoring the sugary taste of lemon toffee bark on the soft snow, a book in her lap, sitting beside Rovin, watching the sun paint the world in orange hues through the portrait room window. Moments when the world felt whole, when hope was something she could almost hold. She let the memories flood her heart, and as she melted into them, her soul quietly followed.

Colors bled, shapes blurred—the world unraveling like thread pulled loose, twisting into a new world. But in the space they had left behind, their words, their hearts, and the echoes of their love lingered—timeless and unbroken. Finally, the timeline remade itself, a silent witness to their love.