Chapter Twenty-one
The Missing Piece
Kaan
I DISMISS LADY Ayla with thinly veiled contempt as twilight deepens outside the observatory windows.
Her seduction attempts grow increasingly brazen throughout the afternoon, each touch lingering, each smile promising more.
Any other day, I might find her desperation entertaining.
Today, it grates against my already dark mood.
"Lord Kaan," she purrs as we descend the steps. "The evening is young. Perhaps we could continue our discussions over wine in your chambers?"
My shadows coil irritably at my feet. Something about the observatory—this ancient dome where Isil and I once spent countless nights studying the stars, unsettles me deeply .
"Diplomatic matters must wait," I reply coldly. "Court business requires my attention."
She inclines her head and retreats. I watch her go, shadows writhing in agitation. The observatory was a mistake—too many ghosts I've spent centuries trying to bury.
I find myself drawn toward my private chambers instead of returning to the main hall. The anniversary of Isil's death approaches, three days from now marks two centuries since she took her life rather than witness what I am becoming. Two hundred years, and the wound remains raw.
Palace staff move aside as I pass, my shadows darkening the corridor. I barely register their presence, lost in memories I usually keep locked away. Isil's smile. Her laughter echoing through these hallways. The horror in her eyes when she realized what I was becoming.
I dismiss the guards outside my door. "I am not to be disturbed."
Alone, I sink into a chair by the fireplace, conjuring flames with a flick of my wrist. The dancing light casts shadows that almost resemble a woman's silhouette on the wall.
Isil. My first love. My greatest failure.
I should seek out Nesilhan. After claiming her so thoroughly that stone walls crack under our passion, she deserves... what? Tenderness? Conversation? These are not qualities I've cultivated over centuries of rule.
Yet something about her pulls at me—her defiance, her strength, her unexpected surrender. She is nothing like Isil. Nesilhan is fire; Isil was water, steel—silk.
I'm drawn to her in ways I haven't felt in centuries.
The thought unsettles me. I pour myself shadow wine, a rare vintage that can intoxicate even immortals—and drink deeply.
Hours pass. The fire burns low. My mind wanders through corridors of memory, revisiting moments better left forgotten.
I should send for Nesilhan, but instead, pour another glass, seeking temporary oblivion.
My darkness had pushed Isil to take her life, and our child's life. It was my doing and I hate myself for it. Shadows coil and darken more, my mood plummeting. I take another large swallow of wine, and I don’t stop until the bottle is gone.
Eventually, as midnight approaches, something tugs at my awareness—the blood bond, strangely muted.
I reach for it instinctively, seeking Nesilhan's emotions through our connection.
Instead of the usual barrier or emotional tumult, I find only distant echoes, faint and troubling, as if she's somehow been dampened or blocked.
I sit up, wine forgotten, focusing on the bond. The muffled quality of this connection sets my shadows writhing. I reach again, stretching my awareness through the magical tether, pushing harder against whatever is interfering.
Still muted, but there—a thread of consciousness, distant and fragile. Something is wrong. Or has the fairy started to interfere again?
Unease transforms into something darker. I rise, throwing open my chamber door.
"Guards!" I call to the men stationed outside. "Where is Lady Nesilhan?"
They exchange nervous glances. "We haven't seen her since late this afternoon, my lord. She was last spotted near the eastern gardens around sunset."
"What do you mean you haven't seen her?" My shadows darken around me. "Has anyone seen her since sunset?"
"There was... an incident in the eastern gardens at sunset, my lord," one guard says hesitantly. "Lady Nesilhan seemed distressed. She was breaking things in the corridor afterward. The garden staff thought it best to give her space. That was perhaps three hours ago."
Fury builds in my chest. "And no one thought to inform me of this?"
The guards pale. "We... we assumed you knew, my lord. "
"Find her," I order, shadows lashing violently. "Now."
I stride toward Nesilhan's chambers, shadows billowing like storm clouds. The dampened quality of our bond grows more unsettling with each step.
Her chambers are empty, the bed untouched. I probe every corner with my shadows, seeking any trace of her presence.
Nothing recent.
"Lord Kaan." Emir appears beside me, his expression grave. "The eastern wing guards report Lady Nesilhan hasn't been seen since her... outburst at sunset."
"Have the palace searched," I command. "Every chamber, every passageway, every garden. I want her found immediately."
Emir nods sharply before relaying my orders. I continue alone, my shadows tearing through the corridors ahead.
In the eastern wing, I find evidence of Nesilhan's distress: a shattered vase, a torn tapestry. I've seen her destroy beautiful things when emotions overwhelm her, but this feels different. More violent. More desperate.
The trail leads to a corridor near the old treasury before disappearing. My shadows find faint traces of her scent and something else—a chemical odor that makes them recoil.
"My lord?" A guard approaches cautiously. "We've found blood."
My shadows freeze mid-swirl. "Show me."
In a small alcove, crimson stains the stone floor—not much, but enough to trigger a primal rage that sends my shadows into violent patterns.
"Have it tested," I demand, my tone barely recognizable.
I kneel beside the stain, shadows probing the substance. Fresh, perhaps three hours old—matching the timeline of her disappearance. And there,a small object half-hidden in the shadows.
A silver ring. I recognize it immediately—the band Nesilhan constantly fidgets with when anxious or deep in thought. A personal item she always wears. She would never willingly abandon it.
Cold fury crystallizes in my chest as I close my fist around the ring. "Who was assigned to her guard today?" I demand of the nearest soldier.
"Damir, my lord. He was supposed to report in after her evening meal, but..."
"But?" I growl.
"He never reported, my lord. We assumed he was still with Lady Nesilhan."
"Find him," I order. "Bring him to me immediately."
Hours pass in methodical searching. The palace is turned upside down, every chamber examined, every hiding place explored.
I interrogate anyone who might have seen Nesilhan—servants, courtiers, guards.
None provide anything useful beyond confirming she's been missing since her distress in the garden at sunset.
When Emir returns, his expression tells me everything before he speaks.
"The blood matches Lady Nesilhan's," he reports grimly. "And Damir is nowhere to be found."
“Find the fairy!”
Emir’s expression says more than his words. “She’s missing also.”
My control shatters. Shadows explode outward, cracking the marble floor, the temperature dropping precipitously.
"Seal the borders," I decree, my words deadly quiet. "No one enters or leaves without my approval. Summon the shadow hounds. Every tracking spell, every tracing magic—find her."
I examine the ring more carefully, noticing it's undamaged—simply dropped or torn from her finger in the struggle. My shadows probe deeper, searching for any trace of magic or clue.
"Clever girl," I murmur, recognizing her habit of leaving subtle signs when in danger—something I'd observed about her careful, calculating nature. "But what were you trying to tell me?"
"My lord," Emir says, keeping a cautious distance from my shadows. "The guards who searched Damir's quarters found something concerning."
I turn sharply. "What?"
"Maps of the palace with certain areas marked. Instructions written in a cipher we haven't broken yet." Emir hesitates. "And he's missing, too."
Damir. My guard. Missing alongside my bride. The coincidence is too convenient to ignore.
"When I find him," I say, my voice dangerously low, "he will beg for death long before I grant it."
"Where do we start looking?" Emir asks, practical as always, even in the face of my rage.
I consider our options. The blood bond, while muted by whatever interference blocks it, isn't completely severed. If I focus entirely on it, push beyond the barriers, I might sense her general direction.
"The tunnels beneath the east wing," I decide. "They lead beyond the palace boundaries, away from our magical protections. My centuries of rule have taught me every secret passage in this place—some remain intact that others have forgotten."
"Those tunnels haven't been used in centuries," Emir points out. "Most are collapsed."
"Not all of them," I reply grimly. "One passage remains intact."
I stride toward my chambers to prepare. I need weapons—the special kind forged in shadow-fire, designed to inflict wounds that never heal.
"Gather your best trackers," I order. "And the shadow hounds. We leave immediately."
In my chambers, I exchange court attire for hunting leathers, strapping shadow-forged daggers to my belt. As I dress, I reach once more for the bond, stretching my awareness to its limits.
For just a moment, I feel something—a flicker of awareness, distant and fragile. Fear. Pain. Then the interference returns, muffling the connection once more.
But it's enough. She's alive.
"I'm coming for you, hatun ," I murmur, buckling my final weapon into place.
When I emerge, Emir awaits with guards and three massive shadow hounds—beasts of pure darkness with glowing red eyes and teeth that can tear through enchanted armor.
"The palace is secured," he reports. "The hounds have her scent from her chambers."
I offer Nesilhan's ring. "This will be more effective."
The largest hound approaches, its head level with my chest. It sniffs the ring, red eyes flaring with recognition before turning toward the eastern corridors, hackles raised.
We reach a section of wall that appears solid to untrained eyes. I press my palm against the stone, channeling shadow magic into hidden mechanisms. The wall slides aside, revealing stairs descending into darkness.
"The tunnel hasn't been used in decades," I warn, shadows flowing ahead showing me the passage.
The descent is steep, walls glistening with moisture, air heavy with old magic. The hounds move confidently through the tight confines.
"My lord," Emir speaks from behind, voice hushed. "There's something else we found in Damir's quarters."
I pause. "Speak."
"A vial of what appears to be fairy dust."
The implications hit me instantly. Banu, she’s really a part of Nesilhan’s disappearance .
"So, Damir knew about the fairy," I murmur, mind racing through possibilities. "But was he working with her, or against her?"
"Either way, it explains how he might have found this tunnel," Emir observes. "Fairy magic can reveal what shadow magic conceals."
"Or perhaps the fairy tried to protect Nesilhan," I consider, fragments of conversations with my wife returning to me. "And failed."
After winding passages, the air freshens, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers. The shadow hounds grow agitated, their massive forms quivering with anticipation.
"Stay alert," I command, signaling the guards to halt while I extend my senses through the shadows ahead, seeking an ambush or a trap.
The tunnel opens into a clearing enclosed by twisted trees. Moonlight dapples the moss-covered ground. The hounds circle before converging on a path leading deeper into the enchanted forest, confirming what I already suspect—Nesilhan was brought through here.
I scan the area, searching for any clue about her abduction. My shadows spread outward, probing every inch of the clearing, finding nothing until…
A faint shimmer catches my eye. I approach, crouching to examine the moss. Tiny particles of silver-blue dust glitter in the moonlight—fairy magic, though I cannot determine if it belongs to Banu specifically.
"Is that..." Emir begins.
"Fairy dust," I confirm, rage building anew as the pieces fall into place. "Fairy magic was used here. Recently."
I let the dust sift through my fingers, feeling its residual magic. Not ordinary fairy dust—this carries a signature of deliberate use, as if cast with specific intent.
But something about this trail feels deliberate. Too obvious .
"The fairy didn't try to hide her presence," I observe, rising to my feet. "She wanted us to follow."
"A trap?" Emir suggests.
"Or a breadcrumb trail," I reply, my mind racing ahead. "If Nesilhan was taken against her will, her fairy friend might be trying to help us find her."
Either way, the path is clear. The hounds have her scent, and the fairy dust confirms the direction.
I release my shadows fully, allowing them to explode outward in a wave of pure darkness that extinguishes every light in the clearing save the red glow of the hounds' eyes.
"Find her," I command, my voice unrecognizable even to myself.
As the beasts lunge forward, following the trail into the enchanted forest, I feel the cold certainty of vengeance solidify in my chest. Whoever has taken my bride doesn't understand what they've awakened.
Nesilhan is mine. By blood, by magic, by choice.
And I will burn the world to ash to get her back.
The hunt begins now.