Page 62 of Crown of Storm and Silence
Dancing together at some long-ago celebration, spinning in circles until we collapse in giggles.
Her fierce protectiveness when courtiers whispered cruel things about my marriage, her wings flaring with indignant fury.
"I'll always protect you," she whispers in one memory, her small hands fierce on my shoulders. "No matter what happens, no matter who tries to hurt you—I'll be there."
And she was. She came for me. Even knowing it meant her death, she came.
"You were my best friend," I whisper, the truth consuming me. "My sister in everything but blood. And I forgot you. I forgot how much you loved me."
As the leader's teeth sink into her throat, her body convulses once, twice, then goes terrifyingly still. The light that always seemed to dance just beneath her skin flickers and dies, leaving nothing but a small, broken form on the blood-stained stones.
The scream that tears from my throat isn't human. It's grief and rage and loss given voice, carrying power I didn't know I possessed. The chains around my wrists crack under the pressure of light that erupts from my skin like a solar flare, and for a moment, the entire chamber fills with golden radiance.
But the shackles hold, and the magic fades, leaving me drained and empty while Banu's lifeless eyes stare sightlessly at the ceiling.
21
The Reckoning
Kaan
The shadow rechargechamber beneath the Shadow Court pulses with malevolent energy as I absorb what darkness I can to slow the poison's advance. Three hours of feeding on concentrated shadow essence, feeling it burn through my veins as the poison fights against any attempt at control. Each heartbeat sends fresh agony through my system, the darkness eating away at whatever humanity I have left.
My reflection in the obsidian walls shows a creature I barely recognize. The shadows under my skin writhe with their own will, no longer content to be tools. My eyes hold depths that swallow light, and when I speak, harmonics emerge that make lesser demons whimper.
The transformation accelerates with each passing hour. Soon there will be nothing left of the man who once tried to balance darkness with something approaching honor.
Then it slams into me.
Terror rips through my chest—not my own, but something smaller, more desperate. The connection flickers like a dyingflame—sometimes blazing with the child's terror, sometimes going silent in ways that terrify me more than its screams.
My child. My unborn child is crying across an impossible distance, its terror so pure it stops my heart. Pain lances through whatever fragment of connection still exists between us—agony that tastes of violation and blood and innocent suffering.
It’s dying. Someone is hurting my child, and they're begging me to save them.
The portal I tear between realms consumes half the chamber's power reserves and leaves reality bleeding at the edges. Stone cracks, shadows scream, and the very fabric of existence protests as I force passage back to the mortal realm with violence that would make gods weep.
I emerge in the village square as twilight deepens, and immediately know something is catastrophically wrong. The festival continues around me—lanterns glowing, music drifting through air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasted meat. But underneath the celebration, I taste absence. A void where warmth should be.
She's gone.
The knowledge hits me before anyone speaks, transmitted through the terrified cries of my unborn child. Whoever took her, whatever has them, my baby knows they're in mortal danger.
"My lord," Emir says, appearing from between the festival stalls, his armor dusty from searching, relief flooding his features when he sees me. "Thank the gods you're back. They're both missing—Nesilhan and Banu."
"How long?" I cut him off, shadows already beginning to pour from my skin.
"We discovered them gone minutes ago. The festival chaos covered their disappearance. But we found this—" He extendshis palm, showing the telltale shimmer coating his skin. "Banu left this. A trail. She's trying to lead us to them."
Recognition pierces through the confusion. Banu knew they were being taken, managed to leave a trail despite being captured. She's still fighting, still trying to help even while imprisoned. The fairy dust forms a faint path leading away from the village toward the deeper forest.
"Which direction?" The words scrape from my throat.
"Northwest. The trail leads toward the old ruins."
Before I can respond, rapid hoofbeats announce another arrival. Elçin appears through the crowd, her warhorse lathered with sweat, storm-gray eyes immediately cataloguing the chaos around us. Her blonde hair catches the festival lights as she dismounts with fluid grace, expensive armor marking her as far more than a simple traveler.
"Where is she?" Elçin demands without preamble, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to command. Her hand rests on her sword hilt as she takes in the scene—the scattered festival-goers, Emir's dusty armor, my barely controlled shadows. "I saw the disturbance from the northern road. Nesilhan?"
