Page 67 of Crown of Storm and Silence
A minute passes. Then two. The healers begin covering their faces in grief.
"If you have any mercy," I whisper, barely able to speak through my tears, "any compassion left for one who walked in light before drowning in shadow... please. Not for me. Never for me. But for her. For our child who never got to see the sun."
The room falls silent except for my broken breathing. Three minutes now since her heart stopped. Even immortals have limits.
Then—the faintest flutter. Not her heart, but something deeper. A whisper of divine light, so subtle I almost miss it.
"Did you see—" one healer begins.
"Shh," the chief healer whispers, eyes wide.
The light grows, emanating not from the healing crystals but from within Nesilhan herself. It's warm, golden, like sunrise breaking through storm clouds.
Her heart beats once. Just once, but strong.
"The child," the assistant breathes. "The child's heart is beating."
Two beats now from Nesilhan. Then three. Irregular, struggling, but there.
"It's not enough," the chief healer says urgently. "The divine light is trying to heal her, but the venom is still fighting it. She needs more than what her body can generate."
"Then we do the blood exchange," I say immediately.
"My lord, the venom?—"
"I'll take it all. Every drop of poison, every trace of corruption."
"It could kill you?—"
"Then I die. But she lives. Do it now while the divine light still lingers."
They bring the ancient tools—crystalline blades, shadow-glass tubes. The preparation is hasty, desperate.
"Once begun?—"
"I know. Do it."
They make the cuts. The moment the tubes connect us, agony floods my system. The venom is worse than I imagined—not just poison but pure corruption, designed to unmake life itself. It burns through my veins like acid, and I have to bite through my lip to keep from screaming.
But I also feel the divine light still flickering in her, and I pour my blood toward it, feeding that tiny spark with everything I have.
"It's working," someone breathes. "Her color—look!"
The gray pallor begins to recede, replaced by the faintest hint of pink. But as more venom enters my system, my vision starts to fragment. My shadows writhe in agony, fighting the poison but slowly losing.
"My lord, you've taken too much?—"
"Keep going," I growl through gritted teeth.
An hour passes. Maybe two. I lose track of time as I fight to stay conscious, to keep my blood flowing into her while drawingout every drop of corruption. At some point, I collapse beside the slab, only the tubes keeping me upright.
She coughs suddenly—not violently, but soft, weak. Black blood trickles from her lips, but her eyes flutter.
"Kaan?" The word is barely a breath.
"I'm here." I can barely speak, the venom making my throat feel like broken glass. "Rest now."
She slips back into unconsciousness, but it's sleep now, not death. The chief healer checks her vitals, then the baby.
