Page 79 of Crown of Storm and Silence
27
The Poison Spreads
Kaan
The poison erupts through my veins like molten silver, and my spine arches backward until vertebrae crack. A sound tears from my throat—not human screaming but something primal that makes the cottage walls weep bloody moisture. Silver veins burst across my skin in spreading webs, pulsing with their own malevolent heartbeat.
I don't make it to the door—I crash through the wall in an explosion of splintered wood and shattered stone. The cottage groans as structural beams buckle, and behind me, I hear Mira's terrified shriek as half her home collapses inward.
My feet barely touch the cobblestones before I'm moving again, shadows pouring from my skin in torrents that turn evening into something deeper than midnight. The village square becomes a lake of living darkness that swallows lampposts, market stalls, anything foolish enough to exist in my path.
I need the forest. Need space for what's coming.
The transformation rips through me with each stride. My fingernails split apart as claws punch through the tips, black as obsidian and curved like scythes. The bones in my face crack and reshape, jaw elongating to accommodate fangs that slice through my gums in fountains of silver blood.
The treeline rushes toward me, and I hit the forest like a falling star. Ancient oaks explode into splinters where my body impacts them. The earth splits beneath my feet, opening chasms that bleed shadow-fire into the night air.
My spine extends with wet, tearing sounds as wings erupt from my shoulder blades—membranes of living shadow that unfurl forty feet wide, dripping liquid night. A roar tears from my throat that makes mortals forget their own names, and shadows don't just flow from me now—they erupt like geysers of liquid midnight, reaching toward the sky to blot out the moon.
In the distance, villagers scream as my power reaches their homes. Thatched roofs catch shadow-fire that burns cold and hungry. An old man tries to flee, but my shadows catch him, lift him, and the scent of his terror floods my poisoned nerves with ecstasy.
Perfect.
The word echoes in my transformed mind with Erlik's voice, with the satisfaction of a father watching his son finally embrace his true nature.
Then light explodes across the forest.
Not the gentle radiance I've grown accustomed to, but something nuclear in its intensity. It burns away my shadows like morning mist, sends me stumbling backward with a shriek of pain and fury.
Nesilhan stands at the forest's edge, her small form blazing with power that makes the sun look dim. Golden fire wraps around her like armor, and her eyes burn with righteous fury that stops my heart completely.
She walks toward me through the devastation I've created, each step leaving footprints of light in the shadow-scorched earth.
"You will not hurt them," she says, her voice carrying harmonics that resonate through shadow magic itself. "I won't let you."
The light that flows from her reaches into the poison itself, wrapping around the toxin like golden chains. I can feel her power working against it, not trying to destroy it but to contain it, to compress it back into manageable levels.
The process is agony for us both. I can sense the effort it takes, can feel her pouring her own life force into the battle against poison that has been building for centuries. Her recent trauma makes the expenditure even more dangerous—desperation and adrenaline driving her far beyond safe limits.
"Let them go," she commands, and somehow, impossibly, my shadows obey. The villagers drop to the cobblestones, gasping and broken but alive, while I collapse to my knees as the poison fights against her restraining light.
"Nesilhan," I gasp, silver tears streaming down my face as the poison writhes in protest. "You have to stop. You're hurting yourself."
"I can handle it," she lies, though I can see the way her light flickers, the exhaustion that makes her sway on her feet. "Just hold on. Let me?—"
"He's right," Elçin's voice cuts through the chaos as she steps into the devastation, her storm-gray eyes assessing the scene with practiced efficiency. Her blade is already drawn, silver-bright in the unnatural twilight. "You're pushing too hard, too fast. This level of magical expenditure?—"
"I know what I'm doing," Nesilhan snaps, but I can see her swaying dangerously as the effort takes its toll.
Elçin moves, positioning herself where she can catch Nesilhan if she falls while keeping her weapon ready. "My cousin always was stubborn about accepting help," she says to me, though her eyes never leave Nesilhan's trembling form. "Even when we were children."
The golden radiance intensifies, becoming so bright it turns the world white for a moment before settling into something manageable. When my vision clears, the poison has retreated, compressed back into dormant levels.
For now.
But the effort has cost her everything. Nesilhan collapses beside me, her skin pale as parchment, her breathing shallow and rapid as the magical expenditure takes its toll. Blood seeps from her nose, bright red against colorless lips—the exertion nearly killed her.
"You fought the darkness itself to save them," I whisper, gathering her into my arms despite knowing my touch carries its own contamination. "You could have let the monster win, but you chose to bleed light instead."
