Chapter 24
THE PERI'S PRICE
NESILHAN
The Peri's smile should have been warning enough. That ancient, knowing curve of her lips as she agrees to our desperate bargains—it speaks of traps within traps, of prices that only reveal themselves after the deal is sealed.
We've made our way back to the outer chamber where Banu lies dying.
Kaan carries her carefully, her small form limp in his arms, and the sight of her—gray-skinned, barely breathing, those beautiful wings torn and darkened—makes my chest ache with guilt.
She's dying because she saved me. Because she helped me escape the Veil when she could have fled alone.
"Place her on the ground," Peri Ayse instructs, her voice silk over steel.
Kaan does as she says, lowering Banu gently onto the cave floor.
I get a clear look at my friend for the first time since we escaped.
Her bronze skin is gray with poison, silver blood crusted around her mouth, those beautiful gossamer wings torn and darkened at the edges.
She looks less like a person and more like something that used to be alive.
"The fairy first," Peri Ayse murmurs, kneeling beside Banu's limp form. She spreads her hands slowly, deliberately, and golden smoke begins to coil from her palms. It's neither light nor shadow but something older—something that makes the air taste wrong and my magic recoil.
"Fifty years from each of you," she continues, her voice dropping to something almost intimate. "As we agreed. Four souls, two hundred years total to replace what the essence-draining poison has devoured."
There's a moment—just a breath—where no one speaks. We knew this was coming. We agreed to it in the deeper chamber. But knowing the price and feeling it paid are two very different things.
Elcin's jaw tightens. She looks down at Banu, and I see the moment she steels herself. Two hundred years. For all of us combined. That's a lifetime. Two lifetimes. Maybe more.
"Do it," I say.
For a second, nothing happens. The golden smoke hovers in the air, waiting, as if the Peri is giving us a last chance to reconsider. Behind me, I feel Kaan move slightly—a shadow of hesitation, a moment where his protective instinct wars with necessity.
Then Peri Ayse brings her hands down against Banu's chest, and reality seems to hiccup.
The sensation is not pain exactly, but loss—something fundamental being torn from my core and pulled through invisible threads toward the Peri. It's like watching your life drain away, but watching it happen to someone else at the same time, experiencing their death and your own simultaneously.
I gasp, staggering back a step. Beside me, Elcin makes a strangled sound—not pain, but something worse. Something like grief. Her hand tightens on her sword hilt, as if she can anchor herself to life through sheer force of will.
Across from us, Kaan's shadows writhe violently—not attacking, just thrashing in response to the fundamental wrongness happening in the cave. They coil up his arms, and for the first time I see genuine fear in his expression. Not fear for himself, but for me. For what this is costing.
Even Yasar staggers, his careful mask slipping. Through the binding, I feel the echo of his shock, his outrage, his—surprisingly—concern. The stolen magic that keeps him alive pulses in response to the draining, and for a moment I wonder if this will kill him as well.
The years flow from us like water. I feel them going, fifty years of my life simply vanishing.
Fifty years I'll never live. Fifty birthdays I won't celebrate.
Fifty autumn mornings I won't see. The loss is so staggering that my knees actually buckle, and Kaan catches me, his darkness wrapping around me with fierce possession.
"I've got you," he murmurs, and those words are the only thing keeping me tethered to myself.
Through the agony, I watch as Peri Ayse channels the stolen years directly into Banu.
It's like watching someone paint a picture in reverse—the gray washing out of her skin, replaced by warm bronze.
The silver blood is fading. Her torn wings begin to shimmer, the jagged edges smoothing, color returning to the gossamer membranes.
Slowly, impossibly, my friend comes back.
When Banu's eyes finally flutter open—Loss green and bright and alive—I sob. The sound surprises me, raw and broken and completely undone.
I wrench myself from Kaan's grip and move toward Banu, needing to see her up close, needing to confirm with my own eyes that she's truly alive. Relief floods through me so violently that my knees nearly give out, but I force myself to stay upright.
Elcin's own face is streaked with tears as she watches my approach.
"She's alive," Elcin whispers. "Gods, she's alive."
Banu's gaze is confused, unfocused, but alive. So achingly alive.
Peri Ayse sits back on her heels, and her smile is radiant. "Lovely," she purrs, watching us with the satisfaction of an artist viewing completed work. "One price paid."
There's a weight to her words—a finality that reminds me we're not done. Not even close.
I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. My body feels drained out, as if the Peri didn't just take years from me but something more fundamental. Some essential part of myself that I can't quite name.
"Now," Peri Ayse says, rising gracefully to her feet. Her burning gaze finds me, and that ancient smile sharpens. "Your turn, twilight child. We had a bargain."
My leg throbs in response, the dark veins of Veil venom pulsing beneath my skin. I'd almost forgotten about it in the relief of watching Banu breathe again. Almost.
"Your lies," she reminds me, her voice soft as silk and twice as suffocating. "Every deception you might speak. Every half-truth. Every polite fiction. That was the price we agreed upon."
Kaan moves closer to me, his shadows coiling protectively. I can feel his tension—the desperate wish to stop this, to find another way. But we both know there isn't one. I agreed to this price. I chose this.
"I remember," I say quietly. "Do it."
Peri Ayse moves closer, kneeling beside me now. One finger hovers over the wound on my leg, not quite touching, and even that proximity makes my skin burn.
"This will not be pleasant," she says, and for once there's no mockery in her voice.
Just ancient truth. "The Veil poison has woven itself into your magic.
Removing it will feel like being unmade and remade simultaneously.
And when it's done..." Those burning eyes hold mine.
"You will never speak a false word again.
Not to protect yourself. Not to spare others. Not even to survive."
"I understand."
"Do you?" She tilts her head, studying me with something that might almost be curiosity. "I wonder."
She places one burning hand directly on the wound, and—
Golden fire races through my leg. It's agony, pure and absolute, but it's different from the poison's burn. This fire doesn't hurt because it's killing me. It hurts because it's burning away something that was never meant to be burned.
I watch as the dark veins fade, as the toxin falls away like ash.
But something else burns with them—some fundamental part of me that knew how to bend words, to soften truths, to protect myself and others with careful deception.
I can feel it burning away, consumed by golden fire, leaving behind only empty space where my defenses used to be.
When it's done, Peri Ayse pulls her hand back, and the burning stops.
For a long moment, I just breathe. My leg feels strange—healed but empty. Clean but defenseless. I look down and see only unblemished golden skin where the dark veins were.
"Thank you," I start to say, trying to soften the words, trying to inject gratitude into the bare statement to make it feel less cold—
But what comes out is: "I hate you for what you're taking from Kaan."
The words escape before I can stop them, raw and honest and completely inappropriate. My hand flies up to my mouth, but they're already out, spreading through the air like poison.
Behind me, I feel Kaan go absolutely still.
Peri Ayse laughs—delighted, genuine laughter that echoes through the cave.
"Oh, that's perfect. Do you understand what just happened, twilight child?
You didn't just lose your lies. You lost your ability to choose what truth you speak.
Every thought will pour out. Every feeling.
Every secret. You're an open book now, written in a language only I seem to appreciate. "
She stands, brushing off her skirts with a gesture that's almost primly domestic.
"Speaking of your shadow prince..." She turns to look at Kaan, and her smile takes on a sharp edge.
"We had an agreement about transportation, did we not?
One night of your company for safe passage to the Forgotten Grove. "
Kaan's jaw tightens, but he meets her gaze without flinching. "We did."
"Indeed." Peri Ayse circles him slowly, that dangerous smile never wavering.
"However..." She pauses, tilting her head as if listening to something distant.
"Time is rather pressing at the moment. Your pursuers are nearly through the dimensional barriers.
The fairy needs proper rest. Your wife is adjusting to her new. .. condition."
Her burning eyes meet Kaan's. "I don't like to rush. When I collect what I'm owed, I prefer to... savor it."
Something flickers across Kaan's face—surprise, perhaps, or suspicion. "You're deferring?"
"Consider it a loan, shadow prince." Her grin spreads.
"I'll transport you to the Forgotten Grove as promised.
Seal your passage so thoroughly that not even the Veil itself will find your trail.
And when circumstances are less... chaotic.
.." She traces one finger along his jaw without quite touching.
"I'll come to collect what you owe me. One night.
Freely given. I trust you won't forget."