Page 10 of Crown of Storm and Silence
None of it matters if she's truly gone forever.
Three days later,reports begin filtering in from the outer territories. Not from search parties, I'd officially ended those weeks ago. These come from tax collectors, trade inspectors,the mundane bureaucrats who keep a realm functioning. Their reports speak of burned settlements, forests transformed into glass graveyards, mountains split against the sky. My recreational activities have been thorough.
"Forty-seven locations visited in the past month," Emir reports, his voice carefully neutral. "The death toll is…significant.”
I don't ask for specifics because numbers are just abstractions when weighed against the simple pleasure of watching things burn in interesting patterns.
"There's something else," Emir continues reluctantly. "A report from the eastern reaches. Not from our people—a merchant who fled before the improvements could be implemented."
I look up from the wine I've been contemplating. "Define 'something else' in terms that won't require me to kill anyone before lunch."
"The village of Yildizkaya. Small settlement near the old borders. The merchant claimed to have seen something unusual there before he developed self-preservation instincts and fled."
My shadows stir despite my attempts at indifference, responding to something in his tone—just days from officially ending organized searches while channeling my energy into destruction instead of hope. But my heart still lurches at any mention of the unusual.
"What kind of unusual? And please be specific—I'm not in the mood for riddles."
"A healer. The merchant spoke of impossible recoveries when our guards questioned him. He mentioned the dying brought back from the brink with methods not covered in standard medical texts." His voice drops to barely above a whisper. "He used the word 'miraculous' several times before running away screaming."
I lean forward despite my best intentions, shadows coiling eagerly. Miraculous healing could mean many things—a talented physician, rare herbs, divine intervention, or someone with abilities that might explain why my magic has been behaving strangely lately.
"Did this eloquent merchant describe our mysterious healer?"
"He was…frightened, my lord. Spoke quickly and fled quicker. But he mentioned dark hair and unusual eyes." Emir pauses, clearly struggling with his next words. "The village calls her Elif."
The name means nothing to me, but something deep in my chest responds to it anyway. A recognition that has nothing to do with memory and everything to do with instinct.
"How far is this fascinating little settlement?"
"Two days by horseback, my lord. The roads are decent enough, though we'd need to pass through the neutral territories."
"Ready a small escort," I say quietly, my voice carrying sudden certainty. "Something's calling to my shadows from that direction, and I find myself desperately curious about what it might be."
"My lord, perhaps we should send scouts first?—"
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. "We leave within the hour. I find myself suddenly impatient to meet this mysterious healer."
Emir bows and retreats, probably to warn the stable master and send ravens to various allies about my impending departure. Smart man.
The journey begins at a punishing pace because while I could open a shadow portal, such magic drains what little life force I have left, and given how the severed bond already bleeds me dry, I reserve portal travel for true emergencies. Besides,my shadows seem unusually eager to move in this particular direction, practically pulling me forward. We ride hard through the afternoon and into the evening, stopping only when the horses begin to foam at their bits and my guards start swaying in their saddles.
"My lord," Emir ventures as we make camp in a grove of ancient oaks, "perhaps we should rest properly. The village will still be there tomorrow."
But I'm not listening, because something peculiar is happening to my shadows. They've been growing increasingly restless as we've traveled, coiling and writhing with an energy I haven't felt in months. Not the chaotic thrashing that's become my constant companion, but something focused. Purposeful.
Like hunting hounds that have caught a familiar scent.
I pace the edge of our small camp, shadows flowing around me in patterns that would be beautiful if they weren't so unsettling. The constant ache in my chest—the gaping wound where the bond used to live—has begun to shift. Not healing, exactly, but…settling like a fractured bone finding its proper alignment after months of grinding against itself.
"My lord?" Emir approaches cautiously, noting my agitation. "Are you feeling..."
"Different," I finish, because there's truly no other word for it. The shadows that usually writhe around me in chaotic tangles have begun to calm, flowing in steadier streams. Still wild, still dangerous, but with direction rather than aimless aggression.
I stare through the trees in the direction we're traveling, toward a village I've never seen but somehow feel drawn to with an intensity that borders on madness. Something waits for me there. Something that makes my magic respond in ways I haven't felt since…since before everything went spectacularly wrong.
"We're perhaps a day's hard ride from Yildizkaya," Emir says carefully, watching my restless pacing. "The merchant said the healer lives apart from the main settlement, in a cottage at the village's edge."
A cottage. Simple domesticity. The kind of peaceful life she always claimed to want. I can't see it from here, obviously, but somehow I can feel it—or something—calling to the darkness in me.
