The Hollow Ones had retreated — not gone, but quiet.
The city breathed easier. Patrols returned whole. Lanterns burned softer at night. The Minaret Ward felt like a heartbeat again — steady, warm, alive.
Malcolm had released Safiya, Zahra, and Naima from their contract ten days earlier.
He told himself it was right — they deserved freedom, not servitude.
But the balcony felt colder without them.
Then, on the eleventh night, they returned.
Not as maids.
Not as shadows.
As themselves.
Malcolm was alone on the rooftop — cloak draped over the railing, reciting quietly under the thinning clouds — when the air folded three times.
Zahra appeared first — tall, athletic, short locs pulled into a loose bun, emerald eyes glowing softly in the dark. She wore simple black tunic and trousers, no longer servant attire — just practical clothing that moved with her.
Naima came next — smaller, lithe, braided crown of hair, deep violet eyes carrying quiet mischief. Same dark tunic and trousers, but she wore them with a relaxed confidence.
Safiya last — short neatly pinned black curls, attentive amber eyes, calm and composed. She stepped forward without bowing.
Zahra: "You released us. We chose to come back."
Naima: "Not as bound servants. As friends… and more, if you'll have us."
Safiya: "We have no contract now. No obligation. Only choice."
Malcolm stood slowly.
Malcolm: "You don't have to stay."
Zahra: (small smile) "We want to."
Naima stepped closer — violet eyes searching his face.
Naima: "We watched you fight. Watched you protect. Watched you love your people. We saw the man behind the legend. We're not here to serve. We're here because we want to stand beside you."
Safiya placed a gentle hand on his arm.
Safiya: "And because we love you — each in our own way."
Malcolm exhaled — long, slow.
Malcolm: "I don't want anyone hidden. Not anymore."
Zahra: "Then don't hide us."
That night, they stayed — talking until the stars began to fade.
No rush. No possession. Just honest words under open sky.
The next morning, Margarita found them all in the courtyard — Malcolm sitting on a low bench, Zahra sharpening a dagger beside him, Naima braiding a small girl's hair, Safiya quietly organizing medical supplies.
Margarita stopped. Looked. Understood.
She walked over slowly.
Margarita: "So… this is the secret you were carrying."
Malcolm met her gaze — no shame, no fear.
Malcolm: "They came back. Not as servants. As themselves."
Margarita looked at each woman — Zahra's steady emerald eyes, Naima's playful violet gaze, Safiya's calm amber warmth.
Then she looked back at Malcolm.
Margarita: "Do you love them?"
Malcolm didn't hesitate.
Malcolm: "Yes."
Margarita exhaled — soft, almost relieved.
Margarita: "Good."
She stepped forward, took his hand, then turned to the others.
Margarita: "I've loved him since we were kids stealing mangoes on rooftops. I'm not going to stop now. And I'm not going to ask him to stop loving anyone else who sees him — really sees him — the way I do."
Zahra smiled — small, genuine.
Zahra: "We're not taking him from you."
Naima: "We're adding to the circle."
Safiya: "If you'll allow it."
Margarita looked at each of them again — long, searching.
Then she smiled — bright, unguarded, the same smile that had lit up orphan rooftops years ago.
Margarita: "I don't just allow it. I want it. He's strong enough to carry all of us. And we're strong enough to carry him."
She stepped into the circle — hand still in Malcolm's — and pulled Zahra, Naima, and Safiya closer.
Four women. One man.
No hierarchy.
No possession.
Just choice. Love. Trust.
The courtyard around them continued — children laughing, hammers ringing, voices singing.
No one stared. No one whispered.
Because in the Minaret Ward, love had always been allowed to look however it needed to look.
Malcolm looked at them — Margarita's golden eyes, Zahra's emerald, Naima's violet, Safiya's amber — and felt something settle deep in his chest.
Not the Eater.
Not duty.
Peace.
The Hollow Ones were still out there.
Darius Voss was still missing.
Greater shadows waited.
But Malcolm no longer carried them alone.
He carried them with four hearts beating beside his — fierce, loyal, loving.
And that, he knew, was stronger than any void.
To be continued...