"Yes. It is possible," Nimor confirmed calmly.
I was sitting on a chair, facing Blake. Nimor had taken a seat between us and spoke with restraint, as if we were discussing the weather, not putting me to sleep.
"We need to consult with Solemir. Check the exact dates, the dosage, and the conditions. We can prepare the potion, and with the support of my magic — put you to sleep. But..."
"I think we should speak with Solemir first," Roger's voice came from the shadow. "We need to recalculate. I believe the calculation has shifted."
Nimor tensed.
"What do you mean?"
"Preparations need to begin anyway," Blake cut in. His voice, as always, was cold and resolute. "Nimor, see to the potion. Roger, go to Solemir. Biana stays under watch. Not a step out of the room until you return."
Once again, he decided everything. No question, no glance, not the slightest pause for me to say anything at all.
Nimor nodded silently and left.
"How long do you need to get to the Tower of the Guardians?" Blake asked, without turning to Roger.
"I can't use horses in the city. I'll go through the Shadow. If I leave now, I'll be there by morning," Roger answered calmly.
The Tower had always seemed close, but only from this window. Because of the height. In reality, it stood at the very edge of the city. Even on horseback, five hours at least.
"Then go now."
Roger vanished. Simply dissolved. And we were left alone.
He didn't look away. For the first time through all this, he looked straight at me. He didn't glance past, didn't hide behind work, didn't steer the conversation away. He just sat and looked.
I didn't know what he saw. Maybe my weakness. Maybe my inaction. Maybe my contempt for myself.
His jaw tightened. The line of his cheekbones became sharp. He was angry. The silence dragged on. Then he stood. Said nothing. Turned and went to his room.
He walked away. Just like that.
I went to my room too. Apparently, I wasn't allowed to go out until tomorrow morning. No one said it outright, but Blake's words made everything clear.
In the afternoon, Nimor came. He examined me, checked my general condition to prepare the potion properly. Then, as always, he calmly explained the process itself.
"Everything will be ready tomorrow. We can begin as soon as you are ready. You'll need to drink the potion, and after that I will cast the spell. Two Guardians will be with us, in case your body starts rejecting the potion or you begin to feel unwell. But I believe everything will go smoothly. Since you're not falling asleep naturally, we will need to support your body with magic so that it doesn't fade while you sleep."
"So this has never happened before?" I asked for clarification.
"No. When you fell asleep on your own, we watched at first, then realized your body maintains life by itself. Apparently, the magic inside you does that without external help. That was the whole point."
I was silent for a bit, then asked the question that had been sitting in my head for a long time.
"May I ask something else?"
"Of course," he nodded.
"If the protection around the castle doesn't let in anyone with dark magic or a black crystal… why can Roger stay here freely?"
It had been tormenting me for several days.
"There is a group of mages who took part in the enchantment of the protective stones and the creation of the barrier itself," Nimor replied calmly. "They can Bless a specific bearer of darkness so that he can pass through the barriers. Roger was Blessed by Solemir himself. It's an old system. For example, in the north there are three Towers of the Blessed, and their protection was established by the oldest mages and the Priestess herself. Roger can't enter there unless one of those mages or the Priestess grants him a Blessing. But the chief mage of that barrier never leaves the tower. That is her order."
"And if the enchanters die? Will the protection disappear?" I asked.
"No. When one of the mages dies, we find a new one. He enchants new sections, strengthens the old ones. Only the ones who placed the stones know their locations. Everything is kept in strictest secrecy. Even if one dies, the protection won't fall. And the Blessing doesn't vanish. You see, magic doesn't always follow simple laws. It has many nuances."
I hesitated a little. Then it slipped out almost on its own:
"Is there a chance that someone from the Avodans could have been Blessed?.. Since the protection is still holding, and there haven't been any attacks…"
Nimor frowned.
"No. That's impossible. Only we can give the Blessing: Solemir, myself, Blake… and now Gort as well. That's it. So in the case of an Avodan — the Blessing is definitely out of the question."
"Then maybe one of the stones is broken?"
"Yes and no. There are thousands of stones. Checking even one takes a day, sometimes two. And we have to check them secretly, without drawing attention. It's very ancient magic — the magic of the Pure. Logically, if there is any breach, one of the stones must be broken. But since there's no intrusion, maybe the protection is still functioning. Or the damage is minimal. If only one stone is cracked — we'll fix it quickly. But if several are destroyed — that's already a problem."
"Why is Roger on our side?" I asked cautiously.
"He was exiled by the Dark King Archil," Nimor answered sadly. "He had a hard life… but he's a good man."
"Why was he exiled?" I didn't let up.
"He was the personal guard of Archil's newborn son. He failed to protect him. The boy was killed," Nimor's voice remained steady, but there was bitterness in it. Almost fatherly.
"He was the bodyguard of the Dark King himself?!" the words escaped me, almost a shout. "And Blake… put him in charge of me?"
The words slipped off my tongue as if only now I were trying to comprehend how absurd it all was.
"He was exiled even before the war began," Nimor went on calmly, not reacting to my tone. "Roger wandered alone, and one day they met at the borderlands. Blake listened to him and took him under his wing. Many didn't like it. But they got used to it. He shows up rarely, causes almost no trouble. I, Solemir, and the other Blessed granted him the right to be here. He can move freely within the castles — except for the northern Towers of the Guardians. The Priestess can't stand even those who merely smell of darkness."
I listened and felt everything inside me begin to mix together: doubt, unease, a sudden flicker of irritation.
"So Blake really does trust him," I said quietly, looking off to the side. My head buzzed from all the threads that refused to come together.
He didn't look dangerous. He didn't feel like an enemy. But how could one simply go from serving Archil to serving the Supreme Mage? And to me. To guarding me?
"He believes in him," Nimor confirmed. "And not just believes — he trusts him completely. Roger is honest. Strong. And he didn't choose the kind of magic he was born with."
I was silent. The world around me was growing grayer — there was no black, no white left.
"There's also Kira," Nimor added. "A sorceress. Also dark. Strong, maybe even stronger than Roger. Someday you'll meet her. Though she's almost never in the castles. Always on missions, at the border. Always on the road."
"She was exiled too?"
"No. She left on her own. She was born during the war. From the very beginning, she didn't fit with their command. Disobedience meant prison. Then came her escape. Now she's wanted. But still fights on our side," he smiled faintly. "Difficult, but fearless. A walking problem, that's what I call her."
"You know so much about Blake's people?" I couldn't hide my surprise. He sits here, in the castle, and knows everyone by name, as if he lives on the front lines himself.
"Yes, I know his entire personal team. Rarely, but we gather here to discuss everything that's happening. In recent years we've barely used messenger birds — they get intercepted too often. To keep information secure, we hold a meeting every six months. Generals and their teams deliver everything they've managed to find out — in person."
He spoke calmly, but to me it sounded like stories from another world. A world I had once lived in… but one that now felt alien to me.
"Blake has a team?" That was news to me. He'd never mentioned it.
"Yes," Nimor looked at me with a slight shadow of regret. "He didn't tell you? I mean… after your memory loss. You used to know them, at least partially."
"No. We don't talk at all," I tried to brush it off. Pretended it meant nothing, that I didn't care. But inside something ached. Blake's coldness and my own emptiness never intersected. We just… coexisted.
"His team is Roger, Adel, Kira, Naren, and Rain. They're among the strongest in battle and reconnaissance."
I frowned.
"And Gort? He's strong too, isn't he?"
"There are warriors, and there are generals," Nimor explained. "Gort is one of the latter. He oversees the castles, the defense lines, and develops strategy. And Blake's team — they're fighters. They follow orders. Young, sometimes too hot-headed, but they have immense power. I think you'll see them…"
He broke off mid-sentence.
See them? When? After I fall asleep? After I become myself again — or stop being myself completely? What would happen next… I didn't know. And to be honest, I didn't want to. Maybe when I wake again, I won't be me. Or I'll be who I used to be.
"I hope I'll meet them someday," I breathed, looking out the window. The river beyond the walls shimmered quietly, as if nothing had happened. "Do you think when I wake up… my memory will return? And my powers?"
Nimor shook his head.
"I don't know. No one knows."
"We can try tomorrow, at midday?" I asked.
"Yes," Nimor replied after a pause. There was hesitation in his voice. "After Roger returns, we'll carry everything out."
"All right," I nodded shortly. "Can you ask Ada to bring me some food?"
"Yes, of course," he answered gently, but with a hint of sadness, and left my room.
I was left alone. I didn't know if I would see Ada again once I fell asleep. I just wanted to say goodbye. Or simply talk to her one last time.
After a while, she really did come. In her hands was a large tray filled with all kinds of dishes. It was clear how much care she had put into it — everything was arranged neatly, and it all looked warm and homey.
"You're eating again?" She smiled so sincerely, as if a storm had just passed. "I'm so glad. That's why I made everything I could."
"Will you stay with me while I eat?" I asked.
"Of course," she nodded, settling into the chair beside me.
She sat with me in silence as I ate. She laid out the food on the plates, moved them closer, as if I were still a small child. It mattered to her that I was starting to come back to myself. And to me, it mattered that she was near.
I didn't tell her about the sleep. I didn't even know if I could. I wanted to, but something inside held me back.
When I finished — barely, but I managed — Ada took the tray, already about to leave. She lingered at the door and asked, almost in passing:
"Everything's alright?"
She smiled warmly. That smile made it a little easier inside. It was like it reached the loneliest place in my chest and warmed it.
"Yes. Everything's fine," I smiled too. I wanted it to be true. I wanted to believe it.
She nodded and stepped out, leaving behind a warm silence.
Tomorrow everything would be over. I would fall asleep, and maybe then… it would truly get easier. Maybe everything really would be fine.
***
The next day, I took a nightgown and returned to my old room.
Near midday, Nimor appeared. Two Guardians followed him inside. In his hands was a glass vial — most likely the very potion I was supposed to drink.
"Biana…" he began quietly. "Roger hasn't returned yet."
There was tension in Nimor's voice.
"We need to wait for his confirmation before we can begin."
"But he promised to be here in the morning…" I frowned. "Did something happen?"
But that wasn't really what troubled me most.
What disturbed me more was this: Blake hadn't come.
He wasn't in the castle. Not a word, not a glance, not even a goodbye.
I caught myself still watching the door, hoping he'd walk in any moment. Say something. Stop me.
But no. Emptiness.
Maybe that was easier for him. Maybe he really wanted me to fall asleep.
Maybe that's why he had agreed so quickly to everything. It was like a needle to the heart — the same one that once drilled into my thoughts.
But I had already grown used to pain. It had become part of me.
"Maybe we should move it to tomorrow?" Nimor asked gently, noticing how disappointment had wrapped around me.
I only nodded. My eyes stayed on the door.
Maybe he would come tomorrow.
Maybe he would make it in time.
I comforted myself with that thought, like a child who still believes that a miracle is possible.
But at the very moment Nimor opened the door, Solemir appeared on the threshold. He was in his chair, and Roger stood beside him.
"My child," Solemir greeted me softly.
He looked better than during our last conversation. His face had grown fresher, his posture carried confidence. As if he had grown ten years younger. Apparently, the magic spent on me had truly exhausted him, but now he was recovering.
"Hello," I rose, greeting him in return.
The two Guardians silently bowed their heads, acknowledging his authority.
"You are dismissed. Thank you for your service," he said kindly to them, and the girls left the room.
He turned toward me.
"Simply, Biana… I wasn't able to come earlier. I know what happened. But, unfortunately, we cannot put you to sleep with magic."
Something inside me tightened painfully.
"Why?.." the words barely came out. "Blake said it was possible… And Nimor too…"
As if the last thread of hope I'd been clinging to had suddenly snapped.
I froze, unable to breathe.
"I understand this is hard for you," Solemir continued calmly, but with sincere compassion. "But after checking the records and speaking with Roger, we found inconsistencies. Discrepancies in the dates.
There is a high probability — the awakening happened at the right time.
There was no mistake."
He came closer, with Roger's help, and gently took my hand in his.
His warm, elderly fingers trembled slightly, but they were filled with light.
And suddenly, I wanted to cry.
"I don't know how to live with this," I finally said.
The words burst out on their own, after so many days of silence. I no longer tried to hold them back.
Tears began to stream down my cheeks. Quietly. Without sobbing.
They weren't hysterical tears — just tears of despair. Heavy, dull, the kind that had lived inside me from the very moment I lost them.
I didn't cover my face. Didn't look away.
I sank to my knees and bowed my head before Solemir.
"Can you… ease this pain?" I asked quietly, almost a whisper. It was my last hope.
He moved closer. I saw his palm begin to glow with a dim, gentle light.
"Forgive me," he said. "I cannot remove it.
But I can take part of your pain. Share it with you. If you allow me. Just… open yourself."
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against his knees.
And for the first time — truly, for the first time — I stopped holding back.
The tears came on their own. I no longer tried to be strong, no longer held on, no longer hid. I wept, letting out everything that had been locked inside since that day. All the guilt. All the emptiness. All the despair.
Solemir stroked my head. Slowly, gently, the way a father strokes a child when words are no longer needed.
None of them said a word.
No one tried to stop me or offer comfort.
The three men were simply there. In silence. Sharing that moment with me in the only way they could.
I cried until nothing remained inside.
And when the tears finally stopped, I understood: if I can't fall asleep — then perhaps that is how it's meant to be.
This was the last day I allowed myself to be weak. The last day I was helpless.
If I am meant to stay in this world, then no one else will die because of me.