Page 88 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

She didn’t turn. “Like someone who nearly died fighting shadow cultists in the middle of the night. How do you think I’m feeling?”

“Fair enough.” I approached slowly. He set the texts on a nearby table. “The child is safe. I’ve placed her with a guardian I trust.”

Ada nodded, some tension visibly leaving her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Why did you leave the palace?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Now she turned, her gaze direct and challenging. “Because I’m not a prisoner? Because I wanted air that wasn’t tainted with your presence?”

The words stung, but I didn’t let it show. “I see.”

“No, you don’t.” She moved away from the window, and crossed arms defensively. “You don’t see anything beyond your plans and your power games. That child nearly died because of the culture you’ve fostered in this realm.”

“I banned blood sacrifice five years ago,” I countered, my voice even. “The cultists you encountered were defying my direct orders.”

“But they learned those practices somewhere,” she pressed. “They weren’t born knowing how to perform blood rituals.”

Her words cut close to truths I’d only recently discovered myself. I moved to the table where I’d placed the texts. “You’re right,” I admitted.

She blinked, clearly startled by my concession. “What?”

“The shadow realm has been corrupted for centuries. The practices you witnessed—they’re a perversion of what shadow magic was meant to be.” I gestured to the ancient texts. “I’ve been researching. Shadow magic was never meant to consume light. The first shadow lords worked in partnership with light-bearers. Together, they maintained balance between the realms.”

Ada approached cautiously, her curiosity visibly overcoming her distrust. She studied the illustration—the intertwined figures of light and shadow. “When did that change?”

“Generations ago. My ancestors discovered they could absorb light magic directly, gaining immediate power rather than working for balance.” I turned to another page, and showed the altered ritual circle. “They modified the sacred texts, rewrote our history. Claimed that consuming light was the only path to power.”

“But is there another way?”

I hesitated, then pushed forward. “Yes, the original ritual, before it was corrupted.” I opened the oldest manuscript, carefully turning its fragile pages to reveal a complex magical diagram, then turned to a diagram that showed two figures standing within concentric circles of power. “Unlike the Crown of Ashes Ritual, which focuses on draining your light completely, this ritual creates channels between our magics. For five days before the ritual, we need to gradually align our magical energies—through joint meditation, carefully structured magical exercises, and physical proximity. The binding we already share gives us an advantage, but we’ll need to strengthen it in the right way. If I can master this alternative before the solstice arrives—before my father expects the Crown of Ashes to be completed—instead of the ritual absorbing your light, our magics could flow into each other, creating a balanced whole greater than its parts. Shadow tempered by light, light anchored by shadow.”

Ada studied the diagram, her expression guarded. “And I’m supposed to believe you want balance now? After everything you’ve done?”

“I want to save the shadow realm,” I said. “And I’ve realized that can’t happen through more corruption, more darkness. It needs light. Balance.” I paused. “It needs you, Ada. But not as a sacrifice.”

She shook her head slightly, disbelief evident. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

This was the moment—the crossroads where I could retreat into comfortable lies or risk everything in truth. I looked at Ada, at the woman who had faced down shadow cultists to save a child, who had survived everything my father and I had put her through.

“I want you, Ada,” I said, the words carrying the weight of desperation I couldn’t voice. With only days left before the ritual that would… I pushed the thought away. “Not just your light. Not just your power. You.” I opened the wooden box with hands that trembled slightly, and revealed an exquisite bracelet shaped as an ouroboros—a serpent eating its own tail. The serpent was crafted of two intertwined metals: gleaming gold for the upper half of its body, and darkened silver for the lower half, meeting seamlessly at both the head and tail. Tiny runes of ancient magic ran along its scales, almost alive in their intricate detail.

“I had this made for you five years ago, before everything fell apart—before I knew what loving you would cost us both,” I said, and watched her expression closely. “The ouroboros—a symbol far older than the separation of our realms.”

She stared at the bracelet, her fingers hovering over the serpent without touching it.

“The eternal cycle,” she whispered, recognition in her voice. “Life, death, and rebirth.”

“And transformation,” I added. “The snake that sheds its skin to be renewed. I found this symbol in the oldest texts—those that spoke of shadow and light not as enemies but as parts of a single whole, eternally chasing and completing each other.” I gestured to the dual metals. “Gold for your light, silver for my shadow. Neither one consuming the other, but existing in perfect balance, eternally renewed.”

“This was a binding gift,” she realized, an understanding dawning in her eyes. “You were going to propose a formal magical union. Not just marriage, but a true magical binding…”

“Yes,” I admitted. “I had already begun researching the old ways, the original relationship between shadow and light. Then my father discovered my research, cast the memory spell, and the rest…” I gestured vaguely. “you know.”

The bracelet caught the light as she studied it, the gold seeming to pulse with its own inner radiance while the silver absorbed the shadows around it—two opposing forces captured in eternal harmony.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” I clarified. “I’m asking for a truce. Help me prepare for this alternative ritual. Help me restore balance to the shadow realm. In return, I swear on my life that no harm will come to you.”

“And if I refuse?”

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