Unedited!!
Author's Pov:
The hinges creaked softly.
For a moment, Reyaksh just stood there ... the faint echo of the scream still vibrating through the air. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, drawn instantly to the figure curled up on the bed.
Sayeera was trembling, clutching the sheets as though they were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and tears streamed down her face, glinting faintly in the low silverish glow of the light of moon coming from window.
The remnants of her dream clung to her ... invisible, but fierce ... twisting her shoulders, her hands, her voice that broke between muffled sobs.
Her gaze flickered to him.... then darted away as though she feared she’d imagined him.
Reyaksh moved closer, slow and measured, his usual composure strained thin by something he couldn’t name. His footsteps were soundless on the floor, but every inch closer felt like crossing a boundary he wasn’t sure he should.
When he reached her side, she didn’t seem to notice him. Her eyes were unfocused, wide, seeing something that wasn’t here ... something that still haunted her from the dark.
“Sayeera,” he said quietly.
The word barely left his lips, but she flinched ... the kind of flinch born from a place too deep to be reasoned with.
He crouched beside the bed, his voice low, steady.
“It’s just a dream,” he said, though his tone carried no empty comfort. “You’re safe now.”
Her lips trembled. “No... it was him... I saw him...”
Her words broke into sobs. She pressed her palms to her eyes, shaking her head as if trying to erase the images. Reyaksh felt something twist inside him ... a quiet ache, sharp and unexpected.
He hesitated, then reached out ... his hand hovering for a breath’s span before resting gently on her shoulder. She tensed, then stilled, her sobs turning into ragged breaths.
The contact was light, almost cautious, but his touch carried the steadiness she didn’t have.
“Look at me,” he said, softer this time.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze. Her face was pale, lashes damp, eyes swollen with tears. There was fear there, but also trust ... fragile, unspoken, trembling at the edges.
“I can’t... it doesn’t stop,” she whispered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them. The faces... that night...”
Reyaksh exhaled slowly. “You’re not there anymore.”
“But it feels like I am,” she said, her voice breaking. “I still hear them. I...”
Her voice faltered, and a sob tore through her again.
Reyaksh’s hand tightened slightly on her shoulder, anchoring her.
For a moment, neither spoke. The storm in her breathing began to settle, drawn into the quiet gravity that surrounded him.
After a long while, he spoke, low and certain.
“Nothing can reach you here, Sayeera. Not while I’m here.”
Her eyes flickered to his face, searching for disbelief ... but all she found was calm, unyielding and strangely human.
The silence that followed was not cold anymore. It was heavy, yes ... but softer, as though the weight of her fear had found a place to rest.
Her sobs faded into quiet sniffles. He stayed by her side, unmoving, until her trembling eased.
When her eyes began to close again, he adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, his movements deliberate, careful not to startle her.
As she drifted ... still half-tangled in the remnants of her nightmare ... Reyaksh sat back , his gaze fixed on her face, his expression unreadable.
The scream had silenced.
But somewhere inside him, something unfamiliar stirred ... something he had long forgotten how to name.
He scanned the room ... every corner, every shadow ... before his eyes returned to her. Nothing out of place.
The room had fallen still.
Only the faint rhythm of her breathing broke the silence ... uneven at first, then slowly settling into fragile calm.
Reyaksh remained where he was, seated beside the bed, his hands clasped loosely, elbows resting on his knees. Outside, the wind brushed against the windows, whispering through the dark.
He should have left. He knew that. There were calls to make, plans to build. But none of that felt as immediate as the tremor that had passed through her voice, the raw panic in her eyes when she’d said I saw him.
So he stayed.
For a long while, he simply watched ... not in intrusion, but in quiet vigilance. Her face, though pale, looked almost peaceful now, the tension unwinding from her features little by little. A loose strand of her hair fell across her cheek, catching the faintest glint of light.
He leaned back slightly, exhaling. His shoulders, usually stiff with the habit of control, eased just a fraction.
It had been years since he’d sat like this ... beside anyone, for any reason that wasn’t duty or protection. He couldn’t remember the last time someone’s silence had held him still.
Every few minutes, her hand twitched, a small restless motion, and his gaze would shift immediately ... alert, ready ... before softening again when she settled.
The clock on the far wall ticked quietly, marking hours that neither of them would remember.
His thoughts slipped, unbidden, to the name she had uttered in her sleep. The man with the scar.
A single link, and yet it had stirred something buried ... old instincts, memories of faces blurred by distance and fire.
He stared at the floor for a long moment, jaw set, lost somewhere between thought and silence.
Then, almost unconsciously, his gaze returned to her.
There was something about her ... not fragile, exactly, but breakable in a way that demanded care instead of pity. She had seen too much, and yet, she was still trying to breathe, to survive the night.
His eyes lingered on her face, softened in sleep.
He wondered what kind of strength it took to live with such memories and still look at the world as she did ... cautious, afraid, but not empty.
At some point, he reached for the blanket again, pulling it slightly higher around her shoulders. The motion was careful, practiced ... as if even in kindness, he feared being noticed.
He leaned back again, exhaustion tugged faintly at him, though his senses remained awake, steady.
.
.
Outside, the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, painting a dull silver edge on the windowpane.
He hadn’t moved all night.
And as the world stirred beyond the quiet, Reyaksh realized he had spent the entire night not as the strategist, not as the man who commanded shadows ... but as someone simply… watching over her.
He drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. He closed his eyes, head resting against the bed where her hand was resting.
Morning had arrived, but neither the night nor what it revealed would leave easily.
.
.
The light was gentle when it touched her face.
Pale morning sun filtered through the curtains, gliding softly over the room ... across the walls, the edge of the table, the chair by her bedside.
Reyaksh was still there.
He hadn’t realized when the night had turned to morning. His back ached faintly, but he hadn’t moved ... not once.
When Sayeera stirred, the sound was small ... the rustle of sheets, the faintest catch of her breath. Her lashes fluttered open, confused at first, then wary as the shadows of her dream clung briefly to her.
Her eyes found him.
He was sitting beside her, elbows on his knees, his head tilted slightly forward. His eyes were closed ... not in restlessness, but in a quiet, unguarded sleep, as if the night had finally caught up to him.
For a while, she just watched.
There was something strangely peaceful about seeing him like that ... the man who had always carried a silence sharper than most words, now softened by the light, his expression unarmored. A loose strand of hair brushed across his forehead, and in that stillness, he seemed almost human ... not the one she feared, not the one who terrified others, but someone she could almost… understand.
Her heart trembled ... she didn’t know why.
When he shifted slightly, a breath escaping him, she blinked and looked away.
A faint sound ... maybe the curtain fluttering ... made him stir. His brows drew together, and his eyes opened slowly, steady, alert within seconds.
For a brief heartbeat, their gazes locked..
His eyes ... glasz , touched with the pale light of morning ...caught her completely off guard. They were cold and quiet, but not empty. There was something in them that drew her in without warning, a depth that felt both dangerous and strangely safe.
She couldn’t look away ... not until he blinked, grounding himself back in the moment, breaking the pull that had caught her somewhere between awe and confusion.
“You…” Her voice was hoarse. “You were here all night?”
He didn’t answer immediately. A small pause ... then, quietly, “You didn’t settle for a long time.”
Her gaze lowered, shame and gratitude colliding somewhere in her chest. “I… I didn’t mean to...”
“You don’t have to explain,” he said, cutting in, but his tone wasn’t sharp. It was simple, matter-of-fact, almost gentle. “It happens.”
The way he said it ... it happens ... carried weight, as though he knew too well what it meant to wake from things you couldn’t escape.
She looked at him again, really looked ... the faint tiredness under his eyes, the steadiness in his posture, the patience she hadn’t expected from him.
“You could’ve left,” she whispered.
“I could have,” he replied, eyes still on the floor.
Her throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”
He looked up at that ... not startled, just quietly firm. “Don’t apologize for surviving something.”
The silence that followed was different this time ... softer, warmer, filled with something neither could name.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the glass of water on the bedside, but he noticed before she could grasp it. Without a word, he handed it to her. Their fingers brushed ... brief, hesitant, but enough to make her heart stutter.
She murmured, “Thank you...Ray”
He only nodded.
For a long moment, the two of them sat in that pale quiet ... her clutching the glass, him watching the light move across the window, neither trying to fill the space with words.
Finally, Sayeera’s voice broke through, fragile but steady. “Did I… say anything? In my sleep?”
His gaze flickered to her, unreadable again. “Just a name,” he said.
Her breath caught. “Whose?”
He didn’t answer at once ...only studied her for a moment, as if weighing the truth against what it might do to her. Then, quietly:
“The man with the scar.”
Her hand froze around the glass.
The room fell silent again, but it wasn’t the same silence as before.
Now it held something alive ... the ghost of fear, the trace of understanding, and a strange, fragile thread that tied their stillness together.
Reyaksh rose slowly, adjusting his coat. “Try to rest. I’ll be in the study. And maids will come with your breakfast."
She nodded, her eyes following him until he reached the door.
Just before he stepped out, he paused ... his hand on the handle, his voice low but certain.
“You’re safe here, Sayeera."
Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.
And for the first time in weeks, she believed it.
.
.
The door closed softly behind him.
For a long while, Sayeera just sat there ... listening to the fading echo of his footsteps in the hallway.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty this time. It carried something else ... a strange calm that lingered in the air, warm and steady, as if a part of him still remained.
Her fingers traced the edge of the blanket absentmindedly. It still held the faint impression of his touch from when he had adjusted it around her shoulders. The thought sent a quiet shiver through her ... not fear, not unease, something gentler, something she didn’t have a name for.
She leaned back slowly against the pillow, her gaze drifting to the spot where he had sat through the night, a silent witness to something she hadn’t expected from him.
Ray
That was all she knew of him. Just a name ... or perhaps not even a real one.
She closed her eyes, replaying that moment ... the steadiness of his voice when he told her she was safe, the way his hand had rested on her shoulder, firm but careful, like he was afraid she might break.
A small ache bloomed in her chest, soft and unfamiliar.
It had been so long since someone had stayed.
So long since presence had meant comfort, not danger.
She shut her eyes, pressing her palms together near her chest.
Her heartbeat was soft but uneven now, like her body couldn’t decide between gratitude and confusion.
Why did it matter? Why did he matter?
“Ray…” she whispered again into the emptiness, the sound of his name barely audible ... and yet it echoed, filling the silence around her like a fragile promise.
The first rays of morning light slipped through the curtains, brushing across her face, and she turned toward it. For the first time since she had come here, her mind wasn’t full of noise ... only that fleeting image of him, sitting under the pale light, quiet and watchful, as if even sleep wouldn’t dare touch him.
Her heart fluttered, small and sudden, before she pressed her hand against it ... startled by her own reaction.
He wasn’t supposed to be comfort. He wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
And yet…
A faint warmth spread through her chest along with her cheeks... the kind that didn’t come from sunlight.
She lay back, curling under the blanket. Her eyes softened, the trace of a sigh leaving her lips as her thoughts blurred and slowed.
Maybe she could sleep again, just for a little while ... with the faint memory of his eyes, that calm in his voice, and the quiet knowing that when the darkness came last night… she hadn’t faced it alone.
Sayeera turned to her side, curling under the blanket.
Her lips curved faintly ... not a smile, not yet, just a breath that carried relief.
For now, she let herself rest ... with that strange warmth still lingering in her chest, and the quiet thought that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone anymore.
.
.
The garden behind the estate was washed in pale sunlight, dew still clinging to the edges of the trimmed hedges. Reyaksh stood near the low stone wall, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a small file. The pages fluttered as a soft breeze moved through.
Footsteps approached ... light, measured, respectful.
“Sir,” Laksh greeted, stopping a few feet behind him.
Reyaksh didn’t turn immediately. “You went through the archives?”
“Yes, sir. The name came up twice ... Arven Kale. Small-time operative, worked under Miral’s contract three years ago. Nothing notable after that, until recently. He’s been seen near the eastern borders ... same routes Merek’s men have used before.”
Reyaksh finally faced him, expression unreadable. “So it is possible he’s connected.”
“Possibly,” Laksh said, nodding. “He doesn’t move without a handler, though. Someone’s directing him. We’re still tracing communication patterns.”
Reyaksh’s gaze drifted toward the rose bushes, sharp even in the quiet morning. “Find out who. And cross-check with the contacts we lost around Miral’s old trade posts. If Merek’s people are moving again, I want to know before they touch the valley routes.”
“Yes, sir.”
For a moment, neither spoke. Only the distant sound of water from the fountain filled the silence. Reyaksh flipped the file shut, sliding it beneath his arm. His eyes, though fixed ahead, carried a faint shadow of the night before.
Laksh hesitated ...just slightly ... before breaking the stillness. “Sir… about last night.”
Reyaksh’s jaw tightened. “What about it?”
“The scream,” Laksh said carefully.
A brief pause. The kind that felt heavier than words.
Reyaksh’s reply was even, controlled. “It was nothing you should concerned about.”
“Yes, sir,” Laksh murmured, though his tone held a trace of concern. Laksh studied him for a heartbeat.
Reyaksh turned his gaze back to the garden, the light catching the faint line of tension in his jaw. “Keep your focus on Arven Kale. Everything else can wait.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Laksh walked away, the stillness returned ... except for the faint whisper of wind through the leaves. Reyaksh stood there alone for a long while, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. But his mind wasn’t on Arven Kale anymore. Not entirely.
Reyaksh’s gaze lingered on the closed file long after Laksh had gone.
The names inside it were old ... too familiar to be coincidence.
Miral Thane
Once, her network had been the sharpest in the underground trade of information and people. She dealt in silence, in secrets no one else dared to keep. Reyaksh had worked with her for long time ... a professional alliance built on trust, calculation, and unspoken understanding. Until it fractured.
Until Ashvay became part of it.
He drew in a slow breath. He still remembered the night everything fell apart ... how one choice, one message, had set off a chain neither of them could control. Since then, Miral’s network had vanished into fragments, her name fading into the shadows like smoke.
And now, there was Merek.
Merek Vaelen ... the man who once trained beside him, learned the same codes, the same patience, but he is older than him and his training was half finished that time...whereas his was about to start.
The man who decided it wasn’t enough when he saw the real heir of knowledge and wealth. Greed had turned him reckless, jealousy had turned him cruel. He had wanted power, the kind that crushed everything in its way.
When their paths split, it hadn’t been clean ... it had been betrayal.
Merek had studied Reyaksh’s every move, every weakness, and now used that knowledge to his advantage.
If Arven Kale was one of Merek’s men, then this wasn’t just another job resurfacing.
It was a message ...deliberate and personal.
Reyaksh exhaled softly, closing the file.
Some ghosts never stayed buried; they only waited for the right name to be spoken.
.
.
The screen flickered once before stabilizing, a faint line of static running down the encrypted interface. Reyaksh adjusted the small earpiece, leaning back in his chair. The soft hum of the system masked the night’s silence around him.
“Kian,” he said quietly.
“Online, Reyaksh,” came Kian’s voice, slightly distorted through the encryption. “You’re clear.”
“Status?”
“Data cross-checked,” Kian replied. “The fragments you sent point to older vault archives ... same lineage Miral once handled. Someone’s trying to reopen the channel, but I can’t confirm who’s funding it yet.”
Reyaksh’s jaw tightened. “Merek,” he said under his breath.
“Possibly. He’s still moving under aliases. You know how he operates ... indirect, patient. He’s letting others take the risk first.”
There was a pause; the faint click of keys came through the line.
“I’ve also traced three recent transactions to an offshore account connected to the Kale network. It looks like a retrieval attempt ... ancient documents, possibly symbolic manuscripts. That fits the profile of the Codex fragments we lost.”
Reyaksh’s eyes narrowed. “Then he’s close.”
“Too close,” Kian muttered. “Reyaksh, you’re in the last stage of your assignment. You were supposed to extract information, stabilize the ties, and return to the estate. But now you’re sitting in the middle of it.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Reyaksh said quietly, gaze fixed on the dark window beside him. “If the Codex or any part of that knowledge reaches Merek, he’ll weaponize it ... not just for wealth, but for control. I need to find the connections before he does.”
“You’ve already done more than what the directive required.”
“I haven’t finished what I started.” His voice dropped lower, measured. “This isn’t about completion. It’s about containment.”
Kian sighed faintly. “And after that?”
“Then I go back,” Reyaksh said. “To the real estate. To where this was supposed to begin with its all power.”
The line went quiet for a few seconds, the hum of encryption the only sound between them.
Kian finally spoke again, voice softer. “Reyaksh… there’s something different in your tone lately. You sound sound like....a human. Is it about that gir... ”
“Careful, Kian.”
Kian exhaled a small laugh. “Right. I’ll finish tracing Kale’s current associates. If any of them link to Merek, I’ll send you the route before dawn.”
“Do that. And Kian...”
“Yes, sirrr?”Kian dragged mischievously.
“Not a word about the girl.” Reyaksh said coldly.
“Why do you care...she is gone long before.” Kian didn't stop.
"Yes...that's what matters...she is gone." After saying this Reyaksh hung up.
The call clicked off. The screen dimmed.
Reyaksh sat there for a long moment, the echo of static still in the air. His reflection in the dark glass looked unfamiliar ... tired, maybe, or distracted. He drew a hand over his face, exhaling slowly, before turning back to the flickering map of connections on the monitor.
The hunt was tightening.
And the closer he got to the truth, the more dangerous every name became ... especially his own.
.
Sayeera sat on the edge of the bed, absently tracing her fingers along the hem of her dress when the faint sting returned...an itch, sharp and familiar, just below her left knee at backside ...out of anyone's notice...hidden below the knee curve.
She shifted, glancing down, lifting her trouser... a small, pale scar marked the spot ... nothing deep, barely visible now ... yet it prickled as though something stirred beneath it. She rubbed at it gently, frowning.
It wasn’t the first time. After that night, it had burned faintly ... she’d told herself it was a wound like others on her body, healing. But now, with the skin smooth and the mark fading, the itching made no sense.
She drew her hand back slowly. Whatever it was , will go away its own.
Sayeera sat for a while, staring at the quiet room ... the curtain swaying softly, the dull tick of the old clock against the wall. The morning had stretched too long already, and her thoughts kept circling the same place, the same questions.
She don't even had her phone with her, as it was long lost on that night itself. And she never tried to find it either.
She needed to move. To do something ... anything that didn’t make her feel like she was just waiting.
Pulling herself up, she tied her hair loosely and stepped out of the room. The corridors were hushed. She followed the faint sound of voices and utensils clinking ... the kitchen.
When she entered, the women working there straightened immediately, startled but polite.
“Ma’am, do you need something?” one of them asked quickly, wiping her hands on her apron.
Sayeera shook her head. “No… I just thought I’d cook something.”
The maids exchanged confused glances. “We can make it for you, ma’am. Just tell us what you’d like.”
She smiled faintly and shook her head again. “No, it’s fine. I just...” she paused, searching for the right words. “I am getting bored sitting idle. I don’t know how to… do nothing.”
There was a small silence before one of them nodded hesitantly. “As you wish, ma’am. What would you like to make?”
Sayeera looked around the wide kitchen ... gleaming counters, neatly arranged spices, the faint smell of bread and herbs still hanging in the air. Her fingers brushed a bowl near her, and for the first time in days, a small, almost shy smile touched her lips.
“I don’t know yet,” she said softly. “Maybe something simple.”
The maids stepped back respectfully, still watching her with mild surprise as she rolled up her sleeves and began sorting through the ingredients. For a moment, she almost felt normal ... like the world outside wasn’t shadowed by questions and fear.
Just her, the quiet rhythm of work, and a kitchen that smelled faintly of calm.
.
She glanced around the shelves, her fingers pausing over the jars until they settled on a few familiar things ... cumin, pepper, and a handful of dried bay leaves. Her eyes moved toward a basket of fresh vegetables: carrots, beans, broccoli ,a few soft potatoes. Something in their simple colors made her breathe a little easier.
“I’ll make a vegetable stew,” she said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else.
The maids exchanged small glances but stepped aside, letting her take over. Soon, the kitchen filled with the sound of simmering ...soft bubbles breaking against the edge of the pot.
As she stirred slowly, she felt her mind stilling for the first time in days.
By the time she finished , it was already dinner time, she ladled a small portion into a bowl, added a spoonful of rice beside it, and then a she thought about Ray and made a plate for him too.
For a fleeting moment, it felt like home ...or at least, something close enough to remember what home used to feel like.
.
She waited, her fingers tracing the edge of the tray absently. The dining table was quiet ... the maids had left after laying the food. The food she made...lay covered under the lids on the plates.
She wasn’t sure why she made the second one. Maybe it was courtesy. Maybe it was something else ... something she didn’t want to name.
Footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor. She turned sharply, her heart skipping a little before she could stop herself.
Reyaksh stepped in, his expression unreadable as always, though his eyes flickered briefly toward the table ... to the waiting plates. He looked… tired, perhaps more than usual. The faint shadows beneath his eyes hinted at a night without rest.
She gulped, hesitating before saying... “I… I made something...Ray. Thought you might want to eat.”
His gaze lingered on her for a moment ... searching, perhaps uncertain how to respond ... then he exhaled softly and stepped closer when he gazed upon the two covered plates. “You cooked this?”
She nodded again. “Vegetable stew. It’s nothing fancy, just… something I used to make.”
He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at the bowl she’d set aside for him ...he uncovered it... the steam curling faintly into the air. For a second, something in his face softened, then quickly disappeared.
“You didn’t have to,” he said, but his voice lacked its usual firmness.
“I know,” she murmured, eyes lowering. “But I wanted to.”
A small silence stretched between them ... not uncomfortable, but strange in its quietness. Then Reyaksh moved, taking the seat across from her.
She watched him lift the spoon, taste it without comment. The air between them felt warm, not from the food but from the quiet understanding that neither dared to speak.
When he finally looked up, there was a faint ... almost imperceptible ... curve to his lips. But he said nothing
Her heart fluttered before she could stop it. She tried not to smile.
For the first time since she had come here, the silence between them didn’t feel heavy. It just… was ...gentle, warm, and strangely human.
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