Zahra lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer answers.
Her head throbbed, her body heavy with exhaustion that sleep refused to cure. She had barely closed her eyes all night — how could she? Not after everything Mrs Goodtree had told her. Not after learning that every dream was not a dream at all, but a life resurfacing, clawing its way back into her.
Even when they had finally agreed it was time to rest, Zahra's mind had refused to follow. She lay rigid beneath the covers, listening to the house breathe around her, counting the seconds between heartbeats, afraid of what might come if she let go.
Now she understood the exhaustion etched into Mrs Goodtree's face over the years. It hadn't been the foster children, or the long hours, or even Zahra herself. It was because she had never been allowed to rest. Despite all of her lives, once one ended, she was pulled straight back out — waiting for the moment fate would allow Zahra to return.
The Champion.
The Protector.
Her daughter.
Dream jumps, Mrs Goodtree had called them. Memories forcing their way through. One mind is built for one life, not to remember a multitude of others. But she had to endure, so she could guide her when the moment came; she needed to remember everything.
Fighting them — trying to stop them from coming — only made it worse. It was easier to embrace them and let them play out; resistance only caused more pain.
Zahra curled her fingers into the sheets, gripping them until her knuckles ached. The thought of sleep filled her with dread. She didn't know what waited for her next — tenderness or torment — and the not knowing was its own kind of cruelty. If the last time was anything to go by, there was a fine line between the two.
When she was awake, there was only one question she couldn't escape.
How am I supposed to get to Domino City?
She had money now, yes. But once she got there, then what?
The clock on her bedside table flickered. 4:00 a.m.
Zahra exhaled slowly, the breath trembling as it left her chest, trying to cleanse her soul of the doubt and fear that clouded her mind.
"Now," she whispered into the dark, "is as good a time as any."
Rolling from her bed, she grabbed her bag.
Dropping it on her bed, she opened the zips on each section and carefully began packing. She packed slowly, taking her time and memorising every detail of her room as she moved around.
The posters.
The scuff marks on the wall, from where she tossed the backpack after a long day.
The lush, fluffy green carpet she begged Mrs Goodtree to get for her.
She would miss it all.
Then it was done. It was time to take the next step.
Over the years, Zahra had mastered the art of getting down the stairs without triggering a single creak. As she made her way to the front door, with the sole purpose of making her way to the airport, she stopped and turned around, wanting to take a good, long look around.
One last time.
Then she'd leave.
She couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to her mother.
Moonlight spilled through the kitchen window, a pale ribbon cutting through the dark. It stretched across the floor and into the living room, stopping with quiet precision at the chessboard.
Zahra's heart sank.
They both played. Well, they tried to play. Neither had the patience needed for a full game. One move a day was enough—a ritual stitched between early mornings and sleepless nights. Mrs Goodtree would play her turn after the house was cleaned. Zahra answered in the small hours, when the world felt suspended and quiet.
A time just like now.
The board had been waiting.
It felt melancholy to look at it. The moonlight streamed to it, like a beacon trying to draw her attention, asking her not to forget.
Somehow, she knew she would never return home after tonight.
She stepped closer, studying the position. It had been an ambitious attempt — a patient one — to undermine her Bishop's Opening and steer the game toward a Benko-style imbalance.
Very clever, Zahra thought, a smile tugging faintly at her lips.
Always playing the long game, in chess as she did in life. She never did give Mrs Goodtree the credit she deserved.
She reached down and lifted the black knight.
The moment her fingers closed around it, the world lurched.
Pain flashed behind her eyes as the floor dropped away. The kitchen vanished. The house dissolved. The knight burned cold against her skin, dragging her forward — not gently, not patiently — but with the brutal certainty of something that had finally run out of time.
"You took your hand off the piece," Mana said brightly. "That means it's my turn. I'm definitely going to win this time."
She looked incredibly pleased with herself as she moved her bishop piece and looked up at her opponent from under her dark lashes.
Zahra blinked as her hand backed away from the knight. The dream jumps were becoming slightly less painful now. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she decided to listen to Mrs Goodtree's advice.
Crossing her arms and puffing the stress from her lungs, she considered the board. Chess had always focused her mind amid turmoil — strategy was survival.
Mana had gotten better in the months that had passed; they played almost every day. Still, Zahra had never lost a match.
That wasn't going to change today.
She focused solely on the game, never letting anything around her, distract her. And she needed it now more than ever.
She reached for her rook.
One smooth motion — wood against wood — and she placed it down.
"Checkmate."
Mana threw her arms in the air and sank back into her chair.
"Aw, seriously? How do you always win?" Mana groaned and rubbed her face.
"Talent without hard work is pointless. Strength alone never guarantees victory," Zahra said lightly. "You need foresight. Patience. And the ability to sacrifice what seems important for what actually is. Chess is a great way to develop strategy and a calm mind; you always need to be a few steps ahead."
"Very wise words."
The Pharaoh, who had been sitting in a chair copying a text he had previously been reading, finally spoke.
She winked at Mana as she stomped to her feet.
"Cheer up. I've been playing since I was young. Though you did have me on the ropes a few times back there."
An impish smile grew over Mana's young, fresh face.
"One day, soon, I'll beat you at your own game. In the meantime, let me teach you what I do know." Mana skipped towards her and pulled at the fabric of her white dress. "You have no idea how to wear this, do you?"
Zahra felt herself spin around as Mana tugged and pulled, almost knocking her over. No one ever touched her without her permission, but she supposed she owed her this after beating her again.
Mana wrapped the fabric around her, winding it together — then suddenly pulled again, knocking the breath out of her and making her eyes pop.
"See, much better. It actually fits you now."
Zahra looked down and saw that Mana had tied and tucked in her dress. Instead of being like a sack, it now folded and fitted her precisely; you could make out her curves.
Zahra hadn't realised how tense she'd been until the fabric settled properly against her skin. It felt… grounding. Like she fit into herself a little better.
The atmosphere in the library shifted, subtle, almost imperceptible, like the air itself had drawn a careful breath.
The Pharaoh set down his writing tools.
"It is time, Mana. The council awaits."
"Yes, of course, my Pharaoh." Mana bowed swiftly and hurried from the room, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
As the Pharaoh gathered his scrolls and texts, Zahra stretched her arms and began resetting the chessboard, placing each piece back into its starting position with practised ease. A quiet hum escaped her before she realised she was doing it.
She felt… lighter.
Days earlier, he had trusted her with the truth of the Shadow Games — with how deeply they scarred the world beyond the palace walls. The knowledge had frightened her more than she cared to admit. People were lost to the shadows. Lives were unmade. It was a weight she carried silently, never allowing it to reach her face.
If anything, it sharpened her resolve.
Now that she understood what truly occurred within the council chambers, she no longer dreaded the meetings. She welcomed them. She wanted to stand between the Pharaoh and whatever darkness sought him — to guard him with the same vigilance she demanded of herself.
This would be her first one.
When he strode from the library, purpose in every step, Zahra fell instinctively into place behind him.
A graceful hand lifted.
She stopped.
"Your assistance will not be required at the council meeting, Champion."
His words cut her to her core.
"But Pharaoh, I thought–"
"I have spoken. That is all for now."
Zahra watched as the Pharaoh lowered his hand, walking out of the library and down the corridor without so much as a second glance.
The guards who had watched the doors now escorted him.
She felt her heart sink at his rejection; her shoulders slumped. She wanted to shrink into the shadows.
Tears stung her eyes. A strong breeze blew from behind her, urging her forward. Her hair stroked her face.
Suddenly, she felt her brow knot and her lips pursed.
Fury ignited inside her. White-hot. Unchecked.
Stone-cold rage carved her features as she closed the distance between them.
"You will not dismiss me like I don't matter." The words whipped from her tongue. "You will respect who I am–"
The guard's grip tightened on their shining spears as the Pharaoh raised a hand again.
"This is something we should discuss when it is just you and I."
She loosened her grip and spoke through gritted teeth.
"Then dismiss them," she said quietly.
The edge in her voice was sharper than any blade.
Zahra was surprised to see the Pharaoh actually tell his guards to leave, but she hid it behind her anger. When he turned to face her, the rage on his face was slightly unsettling.
She steeled her spine, resolved to speak her mind. "Why are you so intent on keeping me away?"
He cut the air with a sharp, frustrated gesture — too quick, too human.
"You know nothing of these meetings. How could you possibly think you can understand when you so blatantly disobey me?"
He was always so calm and collected, but now an unknown determination was ignited in his eyes.
His tone was so much harsher than she had seen before. For a split second, she felt herself shrink back, but she had come too far to back down now.
She needed to dig up any strength she could find.
"You've told me all I needed to know about the shadow games. There's no reason to keep me away."
"There is every reason to keep you away! These games are dangerous, and people die." His grip tightened — once — and the world shifted. Stone met her back in a breathless thud. "As your Pharaoh, you will obey my command."
Zahra was stunned by his outburst; she just about managed to hold in a whimper from the thud of the wall.
She wasn't done… far from it. She had never allowed a man to touch her so violently and get away with it; she certainly wasn't going to start now.
Her hand moved with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she shoved him with force.
He moved a pace back.
"What is your problem?!" She surprised herself at her own defiance, unable to hide her ever-growing anger. "Is it because I don't have magic… or a millennium item?"
He didn't answer at once.
That silence told her everything.
Then her face fell as realisation dawned. "It's because I don't belong here. You don't want me, do you?"
Without a breath of movement, the Pharaoh gripped her by the chin, causing her to move back into the cold wall. His cheek brushed slightly against her jaw as he brought his mouth right to her ear.
"It's you," he said — and for the first time, his voice wasn't steady. "You are the one thing I cannot afford to lose."
The soft skin of his hands felt like silk against her skin, even with such a forceful grip.
Her body burned; she had no idea how to control it.
This was nothing like the fighting pit; there was a completely new adrenaline surging through her.
His smell was that intoxicating mixture of spice and perfume. She braced her hands against the cold stone wall, desperate to find an anchor in this chaos.
"At these meetings, I need absolute concentration," he spoke into her ear. "I cannot afford to be distracted, or people die."
"I don't want to distract you. All I want…" her fingers dug into the painted wall so hard at the feel of his breath, that she felt her nails bend back. She strained out the words. "All I want is to be with you."
A soft sigh came as his head slumped against her.
"Why do you insist on tormenting me?"
She heard him take a deep inhale as he lifted his chin, his soft skin slipping against her own once more.
Her eyes must have looked like they were about to pop out of her skull at his accidental touch. She could have sworn she heard a soft groan rumble from his throat.
The silence that fell between them was unbearable. With every second, she felt a burning need in her body grow stronger and stronger.
She couldn't think. Couldn't reason. Couldn't stop herself.
Then the words escaped her.
Words she had kept secret all these years, even from her father. The reason she would fight. The reason she was so determined to prove herself. The reason she agreed to become the Pharaoh's champion.
"I want to be worth something," she whispered. "I need to matter."
The Pharaoh's grip loosened.
He moved back and looked straight into her soul, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. She blinked the rest of her tears away and shivered at his retreating warmth.
She tried to suppress it, refusing to show more weakness than she already had.
Then his hand slipped away, his fingers accidentally brushing against her breast as it fell, sending jolts of electricity shooting through her body.
He turned and walked away, leaving her frozen against the wall.
As she tried to move, she realised her knees were like jelly; she could scarcely stand. Running a hand through her hair, her chest heaving, she desperately strained to gather her strength to follow him.
After a few steps, he stopped and gazed over his shoulder.
"You are worth more than you know," he said quietly.
A pause.
"To me."
His words broke her. But she refused to fall while he could still see her.
The corridor blurred. Stone felt too distant beneath her hands, as if it were already slipping away. Zahra fell back, chest heaving — and for one terrifying moment, she couldn't tell whether she was still awake, or still falling.
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Daaaaaaaaaang! Now that's a cheeky bit of heat for one day.
If you're here for the romance, tell me what you think!
Personally, I LIVE for this!!!
Thanks for reading,
Lauren xxx