Page 80 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Worth it," she manages, her voice barely audible. "They didn't deserve to die for your brother's curse."
I fight to regain coherence, to push past the transformation's lingering hunger and think clearly. The poison still writhes beneath my skin, angry at being contained, but Nesilhan's intervention has bought us time.
Gathering her unconscious form into my arms takes every remaining shred of control I possess. Her weight settles against my chest—so light, so fragile after what she's sacrificed to save those villagers. The poison snarls at her proximity, hungry for the light that still flickers weakly beneath her skin, but I force it back with gritted teeth.
"We need to get her to healers," Elçin says urgently, sheathing her blade as she takes in Nesilhan's deteriorating condition. "Now. She's pushed herself too far."
"The Shadow Court," I manage through gritted teeth, the poison making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. "The healers there?—"
"I'm coming with you," Elçin states, moving to support Nesilhan's other side. "She'll need someone she trusts when she wakes up."
The shadow magic required to transport us home nearly breaks what's left of my sanity. Each fold of reality I tear through sends silver fire racing along my nerves, the poison fighting my efforts to maintain coherence long enough to reach safety. My vision blurs as dimensional barriers resist my poisoned power, and only the desperate need to get her to healers keeps me from collapsing mid-journey. Elçin's steady presence helps anchor the portal, her own warrior's training allowing her to move through the dimensional shift without the disorientation that affects most mortals.
The Shadow Court materializes around us, all obsidian halls and crystalline light that seems cold after the devastation we've left behind. I stumble through the corridors on shaking legs, my arms locked around her limp form with desperate protectiveness. Healers rush to meet us as I reach the medical wing, their faces grave as they take in her colorless skin and the blood still seeping from her nose.
"She overextended herself," I explain tersely as they guide me to lay her on the healing table. "Channeled too much light magic to contain the poison."
The healers work in focused silence, their gentle magic flowing over her unconscious form like golden mist. I position myself in the chair beside her bed, watching the silver tracery ofpoison spread further up my arms while they tend to the woman who nearly killed herself saving strangers.
Hours pass. The poison writhes beneath my skin, growing stronger with each beat of my heart, but I refuse to leave her side. When her breathing finally deepens and color begins to return to her cheeks, I allow myself a moment of relief.
She stirs as dawn light filters through the crystal windows, golden eyes fluttering open with confusion. "Kaan?" Her voice emerges as barely a whisper, throat raw from magical exhaustion.
"I'm here," I say softly, leaning forward to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. "You're safe. The healers have been working on you all night."
She tries to sit up, but weakness makes her sway. I steady her with careful hands, helping her settle back against the pillows. "The villagers?—"
"Alive," I assure her. "All of them. You saved them."
Memory floods back into her eyes—the transformation, the devastation, the way she threw herself between my darkness and innocent lives. She looks down at her hands, flexing fingers that still tremble from magical depletion.
"How bad is it really?" she asks quietly, her eyes studying the poison that's no longer bothering to hide beneath my skin.
I want to lie, want to spare her the knowledge of just how little time we have left. But the silver tracery spreading across my hands makes deception impossible.
"Days," I admit, the word tasting like ash. "Maybe less before the transformation completes itself and there's nothing left of the man you married."
Her face crumbles, tears spilling down her cheeks as the reality crashes over her. "There has to be something?—"
"There is." The words emerge harder than intended, carrying the weight of a decision that will damn us both. "I'll go to KaraCehennem. Face my father and demand he lift the curse he refused to remove before."
Now she sits on the edge of the healing table, golden eyes bright with renewed determination despite the exhaustion that still clings to her movements. The healers hover nearby, clearly wanting her to rest longer, but I can see she won't be deterred from this conversation.
She slides off the healing table despite the healers' protests, moving toward me with desperate determination. "Why do you think he will help you this time? What if he hurts you?"
"This is not a negotiation," I cut her off, shadows beginning to writhe around my feet in response to the poison's agitation. "You will remain in the Shadow Court under heavy guard until I return."
"And if you don't return?" she demands, tears streaming down her face as she reaches for me. "What then? What happens to us?"
I pull her against my chest, my arms wrapping around her with fierce possession despite the poison writhing beneath my skin. "I will return," I say against her hair, my voice carrying absolute conviction. "My brother might have created this curse, but Erlik can unmake it. And I'm still his son, still heir to powers he barely comprehends."
"But what if?—"
"No." I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I have fought gods and demons, conquered realms, survived centuries of my father's tender care. A poison designed to break lesser creatures will not be the end of me."
The poison chooses that moment to surge through my system with vicious intensity. Silver fire races through my veins, and I double over as agony tears through every nerve ending. My shirt splits along the back as the poison spreads, revealing the extent of the damage for the first time.
Nesilhan gasps, her hands flying to her mouth as she sees the truth written across my skin in lines of liquid metal. The silver veins don't just trace beneath the surface anymore—they've erupted through flesh, creating raised patterns that pulse with their own malevolent light.
