Chapter 18 #2
Understanding and frustration war across his face. He wants to argue, wants to point out that protecting me is his duty. But he's also tactician enough to recognize the truth.
"How long do we have once we enter?" Elcin asks.
"Three hours," I say. "The Eclipse lasts exactly three hours. When it ends, the Veil closes. Anyone still inside..." I trail off. The Veil isn't a place meant for living things.
"Three hours to find Banu, free her, and get out." Nesilhan's voice is steady despite the impossible odds. "While fighting whatever horrors the Veil throws at us. Simple."
The sarcasm in her tone is so sharp I almost smile. Almost.
"He's stable," the lead healer announces, and I watch the last of the tension drain from Nesilhan's shoulders. "Critical, but stable. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial."
"He will survive," Nesilhan says with absolute certainty. "Because I'm going to tear apart reality itself to find the one thing that might actually save all of us. And then I'm coming back here and he's going to meet her."
Such conviction. Such desperate, fierce hope.
But as I look around the war room at our battered group, at Zoran's too-pale face, at the blood that seems to coat everything, I can't help but calculate the odds.
They're not good.
We're going into a realm designed to break people. We're doing it with no backup, no real knowledge of what we'll face, and only three hours to succeed or be trapped forever.
And yet... what choice do we have?
Stay here and die slowly as Taren's forces overwhelm us? Watch more people fall like Zoran did tonight?
No. Better to take a desperate chance than accept slow defeat.
"Everyone get cleaned up," I order. "Eat something. Rest if you can. Tomorrow night, we enter the Veil."
They disperse slowly—Elcin limping toward the baths, Yasar moving like every bone aches, Emir staying close to coordinate with the healers.
Only Nesilhan remains, still kneeling beside her brother.
I kneel beside her, my hand finding hers where it grips Zoran's. Her fingers are cold, and she's trembling with exhaustion.
"He's going to live," I say quietly. "The healers are good. He's strong. He'll survive this."
"You don't know that." Her voice is small, vulnerable. "You can't know that."
"No," I admit. "But I believe it. Because Zoran is too damn stubborn to die before making me regret every tactful slight I ever delivered to the Light Court."
That startles a laugh out of her—broken and watery but genuine. "He really does hold grudges, doesn't he?"
"Like a dragon hoards gold." I squeeze her hand. "Come on. You need rest. The healers will watch over him."
She doesn't move immediately. Just stares at her brother's face, at the rise and fall of his chest that's too shallow but at least still moving.
"I can't lose him," she whispers. "I can't lose anyone else. If Zoran dies, if we fail tomorrow—"
"We won't fail." I say it with more certainty than I feel, but sometimes conviction is all we have to offer. "Tomorrow night, we cross the Veil. We find Banu. We come back. All of us. Together."
That word again. Together.
She looks at me finally, tears still streaming down her face but something like hope flickering in her eyes. "Promise me."
I shouldn't. Promises about entering a death realm are fool's currency. But looking at her now, seeing the desperate need for something to believe in, I find myself nodding.
"I promise."
She leans into me, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling her shake with silent sobs. Across the thread between us, her pain is mine, her fear is mine, her desperate love for her brother is mine.
And tomorrow night, we'll face the Veil together.
The dawn breaks grey and cold over the palace.
I haven't slept. Neither has Nesilhan. We've spent the night in a strange vigil—her beside Zoran's bedside, me pacing the war room, both of us counting down the hours.
Emir finds me in the pre-dawn gloom.
"The casualties are worse than we thought," he reports. "We lost eighteen in the village. Another dozen wounded badly enough that they're out of action for weeks."
Eighteen dead. Eighteen people who trusted me to lead them, who followed me into that trap.
"Taren's forces?" I ask.
"Unknown. We killed at least forty of his elite guards, but..." Emir hesitates. "Kaan, they keep coming. Every report from our scouts says the same thing. His numbers are growing."
"How is that possible?"
"Kieran." Emir's voice is grim. "All seven Light Court factions have united under him.
He's funneling troops, resources, weapons—everything flows through to Taren.
This isn't just one lord's army anymore.
It's the full might of the Light Court, and Taren is just the blade Kieran is pointing at us while he waits to deliver the killing blow himself. "
The words settle like stones in my stomach. "Meanwhile, half my own factions have either declared independence or conveniently forgotten how to send reinforcements."
"Three more lords failed to deliver their promised troops this week," Emir confirms. "The Shadow Court is fracturing while the Light Court has never been more united."
Two weeks. Maybe less. And I'm fighting a unified empire with a kingdom that's busy tearing itself apart.
"Then the Veil isn't just our best chance," I say slowly. "It's our only chance."
Emir nods, then says carefully, "I'll prep the ritual site. The Twilight Eclipse begins at midnight."
"Good."
He turns to leave, then pauses. "Kaan? I hope you find Banu. And that it's worth the cost."
After he's gone, I sink into a chair. Worth the cost. As if I have any idea what the cost might be.
The hours creep by. I check on Zoran three times, each visit confirming that he's still critical but stable. Nesilhan hasn't left his side except to gather supplies for the Veil crossing.
Elcin spends the day in the archives, researching. When I find her at midday, she's surrounded by ancient texts.
"Anything useful?" I ask.
She looks up. "Maybe. The texts mention something called the Veil Prison—a place within the Veil where powerful beings can be trapped using their own memories as binding material. If Banu's there..." She trails off.
To free Banu, we'll have to break a prison built from her own worst moments.
"Can it be broken?" I press.
"The texts aren't clear. But they mention that twilight magic—the blend of light and shadow—might be able to disrupt the prison's foundation." She glances at me meaningfully. "Which means Nesilhan."
Of course it does. My wife will have to be the one to break the prison, which means she'll be exposed to whatever nightmares the Veil has stored in those bars.
"She's not going to like that," I mutter.
"She doesn't have to like it," Elcin says pragmatically. "She just has to do it. Assuming we can even find Banu in three hours."
Midnight approaches with the inevitability of an execution.
The four of us gather at the ritual site Emir prepared—a circular clearing at the edge of the palace grounds where the barrier between realms is thinnest. Runes cover the ground in concentric circles, pulsing with power.
Nesilhan stands beside me, her armor freshly cleaned, her weapons sharpened. But it's her eyes that hold my attention—clear and focused and absolutely terrified beneath the determination.
"Last chance to back out," I tell her quietly.
She snorts. "Not a chance. Banu's in there because of me. I'm bringing her home."
Elcin checks her weapons for the third time. Yasar stands apart from us, his fire-shadow magic flickering around his fingers like restless embers.
Above us, the first signs of the Eclipse begin. The moon starts to darken, its silver light dimming to bronze, then copper, then something that isn't quite any color at all. And in that strange twilight between illumination and darkness, reality starts to tear.
The Veil appears as a shimmer in the air—not quite invisible, but undeniably there. A wound in the world where all the rules stop applying.
"When we cross," I tell the others, "stay together. The Veil will try to separate us, try to isolate us. Don't let it. We're stronger together than apart."
They nod, and I feel the weight of their trust like a physical thing.
The Eclipse reaches its peak—that perfect moment when neither light nor shadow dominates, when the Veil opens wide enough for living people to pass through.
"Now," I say, and step forward into the shimmer.
Reality tears itself apart.
For a moment, I'm nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. I feel myself being unmade and remade, torn down to my component parts and reassembled wrong.
Then gravity reasserts itself with vicious force, and I'm falling through smoke and shadow and memories that aren't mine.
I hit ground that isn't quite solid, stumbling, my shadows flaring defensively. Around me, the others materialize one by one—Nesilhan gasping, Elcin cursing, Yasar looking pale.
And above us, below us, around us, the Veil Between stretches in every direction that shouldn't exist.
We're here.
Now we just have to survive the next three hours.
And somehow find Banu in this nightmare made manifest.