Page 95 of Crown of Storm and Silence
Before I can respond, the doors don't open—they dissolve into shadow with a wet sucking sound that suggests they're deeply offended by our presence. What emerges from the darkness beyond makes my cold heart freeze in recognition.
Erlik steps into view, and the very air recoils from his presence.
He looks exactly like what he is—a predator wearing the skin of something that was once divine. Shadows bend around hisform like they're trying to get away, and his casual authority makes lesser demons piss themselves. His smile could charm angels into damnation, and probably has, but underneath the polished exterior lurks something that sets my teeth on edge.
When he moves, reality doesn't just bend—it cowers. And when his gaze finds Nesilhan, I watch him examine her like a connoisseur studying a particularly rare vintage he's planning to devour slowly.
His eyes are black. Not dark brown, not midnight blue—black. Empty. When they fix on Nesilhan, he tilts his head slightly, and I see his nostrils flare. He's scenting her. Tasting her fear in the air like fine wine.
His gaze travels from her face to her belly, then back up. Slow. Deliberate. The way a butcher might examine a particular choice cut of meat.
My shadows surge without conscious thought, reaching toward him with death-hunger before I force them back. The bastard's smile widens—he knows exactly what he's doing, exactly how his attention affects me. And he's enjoying every second of it.
"Nesilhan," he purrs, and his voice carries harmonics that make nearby gargoyles weep stone tears. "My dear daughter-in-law. You're even more exquisite than my son's fevered descriptions suggested."
He approaches us with the prowling grace of something that has never doubted its position at the top of the food chain. Each step he takes makes the marble beneath his feet crack slightly, as if the realm itself is struggling to contain the weight of his presence.
"You smell... ripe," he observes with dark amusement, circling closer. "Ready for harvest." His smile stretches wider. "And bearing such promising seed. I do so enjoy watchingthings grow. Especially when they're destined for greatness... or sacrifice. The two are often interchangeable in my experience."
Nesilhan's grip on my arm tightens, and I can feel her fighting the urge to step backward. Smart woman. Everything about Erlik screams apex predator.
"Lord Erlik," she manages, her voice admirably steady. "Thank you for... receiving us."
"Oh, the pleasure is entirely mine," he assures her, and the way he says 'pleasure' makes it sound like a threat wrapped in silk. "It's been far too long since I've had the opportunity to... entertain family. The last relatives who visited didn't leave in quite the same condition they arrived in."
When he looks at Nesilhan again, his gaze travels deliberately from her face to her belly, then back up with the slow appreciation of someone appraising livestock. I watch my father's expression grow more interested by the second.
Banu, who has been suspiciously quiet during this exchange, suddenly flutters forward with the kind of aggressive cheerfulness that usually precedes bloodshed. "Well, aren't you a treat," she announces, examining Erlik like he's a particularly interesting insect. "I can see where Kaan gets his charming personality and his talent for making people want to throw themselves off cliffs. Very hereditary, the whole 'walking nightmare' aesthetic."
Erlik's attention shifts to the fairy with something that might be amusement if it wasn't so predatory. "And you must be the famous Lady Banu. I've heard such... fascinating stories about your mouth."
"All true, I'm sure," she replies without missing a beat. "Though I have to say, your palace has quite the... let's call it 'homicidal chic' vibe. Very, 'what if we took every architectural nightmare from history and gave it unlimited funding and abandonment issues?' It's certainly a choice."
"I do pride myself on creating memorable experiences," Erlik says, his smile widening as he studies the fairy with a longer beat than necessary. "Perhaps we'll find time to discuss design philosophy later. I have such interesting ideas about how small, delicate things can be... rearranged."
The casual delivery of the threat only amplifies its menace, making the air itself seem to thicken. Banu, however, appears completely unfazed.
"How delightful," she chirps. "I love interior decorating conversations, especially with people who clearly learned their aesthetic sense from fever dreams and architectural trauma. We should definitely chat later—assuming you can find time in your busy schedule of brooding dramatically and terrorizing the help."
Erlik's gaze shifts to take in the rest of our party, his eyes lingering on Emir with something that might be professional respect. "And the faithful General Emir. Still playing nursemaid to my wayward son, I see."
Emir inclines his head with careful neutrality. "Lord Erlik."
"And this," I say through gritted teeth, gesturing toward Zohan, "is Lord Zohan of the Light Court. Nesilhan's brother."
Erlik's attention snaps to Zohan with surprising interest, his smile turning razor-sharp. "Ah, the famous brother. The one whose life necessitated this... arrangement. How deliciously ironic that you're here to witness the culmination of your sister's sacrifice."
Zohan seems to have forgotten how to speak, which is completely normal in my father's presence. Moments later, a new figure slithers into the hall—and I use “slithers” deliberately, because despite her humanoid appearance, everything about her suggests something serpentine wearing a human suit. Tall, elegant, with silver hair that moves like it'sunderwater and robes that seem to absorb light rather than reflect it.
"Ah," Erlik says, his voice carrying genuine fondness that somehow makes her even more terrifying, "allow me to introduce Seraphina, my chief of staff and coordinator of special events. She's been positively dying to meet you all."
"I died centuries ago," Seraphina adds with a laugh that sounds like crystal being tortured to death. "Now I just exist in a perpetual state of aggressive efficiency and mild homicidal tendencies. It's surprisingly liberating."
Banu examines Seraphina with forced calm, though I notice her wings twitch—a tell that means she's fighting every instinct to flee. "A wedding coordinator? How thoughtful, but completely unnecessary. I can handle all the arrangements myself."
"Oh, but you won't," Seraphina says, her voice carrying an authority that makes the air itself feel heavier. Shadows begin pooling around her feet, reaching toward Banu with obvious hunger. "I coordinate everything that happens in Kara Cehennem. Every soul, every scream, every delightful little... accident."
Banu takes an involuntary step backward as the shadows brush against her ankles, her usual bravado cracking for the first time since we arrived. "How... efficient of you."
