Page 76 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"She killed herself," I finish for him, understanding crashing over me with devastating clarity.
"Took her own life to break the connection, to stop feeding the dark poison that was consuming me." Tears track down his face, silver in the otherworldly light of the throne room. "She died believing that her death would end the curse, would save me from becoming the monster my brother wanted me to be."
"But it didn't work," I say quietly.
"The curse didn't die with her—it stayed in me, growing stronger with each passing year. Every act of violence, every moment of rage or pain, feeds it until sometimes I can barely remember why I ever tried to fight against what I'm becoming." His expression darkens, and I see something terrible flicker behind his eyes. "When I found out what Altan had done, when I realized he had murdered both Isil and my unborn child out of jealousy and ambition... I killed him."
The words hang between us like a blade. "You killed your own brother."
"I thought his death would break the curse," he says, his voice raw with old anguish. "Thought that destroying the one who cast it would free me from its hold. But as he died, Altan laughed. Told me that Father had whispered fears in his ear—that my child would one day take the throne, that the prophecies spoke of shadow-born offspring who would eclipse us all." His laugh is bitter, broken. "He said Father had filled his mind with paranoia and ambition until he couldn't see anything but threats in an unborn child's future."
I can see where this story leads, and my heart clenches in preparation for the blow. "You went to your father."
"I demanded answers. Demanded he tell me if he had truly set Altan on that path, if he had orchestrated Isil's death." His jaw tightens, muscles flexing with barely controlled rage. "He denied it all. Said he didn't have that kind of power over Altan, that my brother had acted alone. But when I begged him to remove the curse, to lift the poison that was slowly transformingme into something monstrous..." He trails off, shadows writhing faster around him.
"He refused," I breathe.
"Said it was punishment for killing my brother. That I would live with the curse as penance for spilling family blood, no matter the reason." The pain in his voice is centuries old but still fresh, still bleeding. "I left his court that day and swore I would never speak to the man again. And I haven't, not in hundreds of years."
The tragedy of it, the impossible weight he's been carrying alone, makes my chest ache with sympathy I'm not sure I'm ready to feel. A brother's betrayal, a father's cold judgment, a curse that was meant to be justice but became eternal torment.
But underneath the pity, another emotion stirs—one that should terrify me but instead feels like recognition. Because looking at him now, seeing the truth of what he's endured and what he's become, I finally understand why I ran.
It was the knowledge that I would love him anyway, monster or not, and that such love would damn us both.
"The poison," I say quietly, studying the silver veins that pulse beneath his skin. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
His smile is sharp as breaking glass. "Every day. Every act of violence, every moment of rage, feeds it until soon there won't be anything left of the man you married. Just the creature my father's justice created, the monster my brother's poison birthed."
"How long?" I ask, though part of me dreads the answer.
"Weeks, perhaps a month before the transformation becomes irreversible." He says it with the casual tone, but I can see the fear beneath his controlled facade. "Your light magic could contain it, channel it, possibly even purify it if we restored our bond. But that would trap you with a monster you don't remember choosing to love."
The choice he's offering—bind myself to him again to save us both, or watch him transform into something that would make nightmares weep—hangs between us like a blade poised to fall.
And for the first time since waking up with no memory, I think I'm beginning to understand why the woman I used to be chose to run rather than face such an impossible decision.
Some truths are too heavy to bear. Some loves, too dangerous to survive.
But as I look at him—this broken, beautiful, damned creature who has fought against his own nature for centuries—I realize that forgetting might have been the cruelest choice of all.
Because love doesn't die just because we can't remember why it began.
And some bonds run deeper than memory, deeper than fear, deeper even than the darkness that threatens to consume everything we hold dear.
The question now is whether I have the courage to choose him again, knowing full well what that choice might cost us both.
26
Difficult Truth
Kaan
The request comesas we sit in the healing chamber, morning light filtering through crystal windows to paint geometric patterns across the obsidian floor. Nesilhan traces absent patterns on her belly, where our child rests safely despite everything we've endured; her golden eyes are distant with thoughts I can't penetrate.
She still bears the marks of her ordeal—faint bruises along her throat whereOburfangs pierced delicate skin, a bandage covering the worst of the bite marks on her shoulder. Her hands shake slightly when she thinks I'm not watching, and she flinches whenever anyone approaches too quickly. The trauma lives in her body now, a constant reminder of how catastrophically I failed to protect her.
The poison in my veins responds to her presence with eager hunger, silver threads of toxin pulsing beneath my skin like veins of liquid mercury. Each beat of my heart spreads the darkness further, and I can feel it rewriting my essence cell by cell, erasing everything human I once pretended to be.
