Page 88 of Crown of Storm and Silence
Here it comes. The real negotiation, the price that will damn us both.
"What do you want?"
His smile turns predatory, and I know I'm about to hear something that will make me regret this entire conversation. "I want to meet my daughter-in-law. Properly. Here, in Kara Cehennem, where we can... get properly acquainted."
"Over my fucking dead body."
"Then enjoy your transformation," he says with casual indifference, returning his attention to his dessert. "I'm sure you'll make a lovely monster. The silver veins are quite fetching."
The dismissal hits exactly where intended. The poison spreads with vicious intensity, silver fire racing through my veins as my time runs out with increasing urgency.
"Wait," I say through gritted teeth, hating myself for even considering negotiation. "What if I offered something else? The child could carry your middle name, regardless of gender. Little Erlik Jr. or Erlika—very traditional. Though I have to warn you, if it's a girl and she inherits your personality, she'll probably try to overthrow us both by her third birthday."
Erlik pauses, clearly considering this. "My middle name is Karanlik," he says with amusement. "Do you really want to saddle your child with 'Darkness' as a middle name? Very ominous for playground introductions."
"Well, it's either that or 'Disappointment,' which is what you'll get if I die and leave the realm to these incompetents," I gesture at the remaining demons. "Though 'Karanlik' does have a nice ring to it. Very intimidating on official documents."
"Tempting," he admits, "but insufficient. I want something more... personal."
"What kind of personal?" I ask, dreading the answer.
"Her memories," he says with predatory hunger. "Just a small portion—the ones of you, specifically. How delicious it would be to see how she truly viewed her monster husband before fear made her forget."
"Absolutely fucking not."
"Then perhaps a fragment of her life force?" he continues as if I haven't spoken. "Nothing fatal, of course. Just enough to create a... connection between us. Think of it as a wedding gift from grandfather to grandchild."
The casual way he discusses stealing pieces of Nesilhan's soul makes my shadows writhe with the promise of violence. "I'd rather let the poison turn me into your perfect monster than give you one drop of her essence."
"How romantic," he purrs. "Though I wonder—will you feel the same when the dark poison reaches your heart? When every breath becomes agony and your shadows start feeding on your own flesh?"
The poison chooses that moment to spike through my system, silver fire clawing at my chest until I double over, gasping. He's right—I can feel it spreading faster now, each heartbeat bringing me closer to complete transformation.
"There is... one alternative," he says thoughtfully, studying my convulsions with clinical interest. "I could settle for a simple meeting. Here, in Kara Cehennem, where we can get properly... acquainted."
"What kind of meeting?" I ask through gritted teeth, hating myself for even considering it.
"Nothing too strenuous," he assures me with paternal warmth that makes my blood run cold. "A simple purification ritual to ensure no remnants of the curse affect the child. She would need to be present, naturally—the magic requires her participation."
Exhaustion crashes over me as the poison spreads further, silver fire eating away at what's left of my strength. After his threats about her memories and life force, a simple meeting seems almost... reasonable. At least he's not asking to possess pieces of her soul.
"The ceremony," I say quietly, dreading the answer. "Explain it. Exactly what would she need to do?"
"Ancient shadow magic, designed to cleanse any lingering poison from the bloodline," he says with the kind of casualness that makes experienced demons reconsider their allegiances."She allows the darkness to flow through her briefly, channels it, and any poison is drawn out and destroyed. Perfectly safe."
I stare at him, suspicion cutting through the pain and desperation. "Wait. You always said Altan's poison was designed to destroy any heir that might threaten your throne. Why would you want to purify this one?"
His smile widens, genuine amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "Ah, but according to the prophecy, this child won't be taking my throne, will it?" He laughs, rich and warm and utterly chilling. "The prophecy speaks of a throne that doesn't exist yet. How can I fear something that poses no threat to what I already possess?"
The casual way he dismisses the threat makes my blood run cold, but the logic is sound. Still, I can't shake the feeling that this is another trap.
"Fine," I say finally, hating every word. "But I want a blood oath. You swear by your own blood that you will not harm Nesilhan or the child during this visit. No physical damage, no mental manipulation, no tricks."
Erlik tilts his head, considering. "A blood oath? How wonderfully old-fashioned. Very well—I swear by my blood that no harm will come to them by my hand during their stay."
"We cut palms and bind the oath properly," I insist, knowing that blood magic leaves no room for interpretation. Once sworn, he'll be physically unable to hurt them.
"Of course," he agrees with suspicious ease, already drawing a ceremonial dagger from his robes. "I wouldn't dream of harming the mother of my grandchild anyway. We're family, after all."
