Chapter 15 #2
The word erupts from me with enough power to make trees groan and send every nocturnal creature within a mile fleeing for safer territories. Both combatants freeze, caught in the supernatural authority I rarely bother to unleash. The very air thickens with the weight of my displeasure.
Even Banu stops mid-assault, her fairy magic sputtering out as she takes an involuntary step backward. For the first time since I've known her, she looks genuinely wary instead of just combative.
"Mikail," I say pleasantly, stepping into the clearing with shadows pouring from my skin in dark streams, "how delightful to see you again. Still speaking in riddles and molesting my people, I see."
"Kaan," he replies, straightening his torn coat with affected dignity that's somewhat undermined by the leaves in his hair.
"Emir," I continue without taking my eyes off the Obur, "take Banu back to the cottage. Have the men establish a wider perimeter around the village. I need to have words with our uninvited guest."
My general looks reluctant to leave, his protective instincts clearly screaming at him not to abandon the fairy who apparently means more to him than he's admitted. But centuries of discipline win out over personal desire.
"Come," he says to Banu, extending his hand with surprising gentleness after his display of protective brutality. "This conversation isn't finished," he adds to Mikail with deadly promise.
"The story never truly ends," the Obur replies with obvious delight. "Merely pauses between chapters. We shall continue this tale when circumstances are more…conducive to poetry."
Banu hesitates for a moment, her gaze flicking between Emir's outstretched hand and my tense form. "Don't let him turn you into a philosophical midnight snack," she tells me with characteristic bluntness. "I'd hate to have to explain to Nesilhan why her husband became vampire food."
"I'll resist the urge to become anyone's literary feast," I promise dryly.
As they disappear into the forest—though not before Banu pauses to kick a piece of splintered wood from where Mikail landed, muttering something about 'vampire debris' as a trophy—I turn my full attention to the creature who knew me when I was young and stupid enough to think I could change the world through sheer bloody-minded determination.
An Obur. One of the oldest, most dangerous creatures to crawl out of the shadow realm's deepest reaches. And unfortunately, someone whose circular logic and cryptic observations have been driving me to distraction for over six centuries.
"Well," I say, settling against a convenient tree with deliberate casualness, "now that we've dispensed with the philosophical violence and fairy assault, what brings you to this charming little slice of mortal mediocrity?"
Mikail's smile reveals teeth too sharp to be human, too white to be anything but a threat. "Must the spider spin webs to catch flies, or does he sometimes visit old haunts for the pleasure of remembered screams?"
"Hate to break it to you, but this particular haunt has been renovated," I point out helpfully. "New management, different screaming policies. Much less aesthetic suffering, unfortunately."
"Truth wears many faces," he agrees, settling onto a fallen log with careful precision. "Though we did compose some memorable symphonies in our youth. Do you recall that delightful week we spent teaching the Jade Emperor's court about the artistry of suffering?"
"That was six hundred years ago, Mikail. I've developed new interests since then. Ones that don't involve quite so much screaming."
His laugh carries sharp edges. "Yes, whispers reach even the deepest waters. The great Shadow Lord, trading his sword for a cradle, his throne for a rocking chair. The little spark grows fat on lullabies—does she know daddy's old songs had different lyrics?"
Every shadow within a fifty-foot radius responds to my sudden spike of rage, reaching toward Mikail with raw menace. But he's old enough, powerful enough, that they slide off him with minimal effect.
"Careful," I say softly, my voice carrying enough menace to freeze blood in veins. "You're speaking of my wife."
"Wife," he repeats, wiping blood from his mouth with delicate fingers. "The shadow king builds a nest. How the mighty have…softened,”
"At least I'm not still wandering the realm like some ancient, bitter bachelor," I reply with deliberate mildness. "Tell me, Mikail, how's that eternal solitude working out for you? Still composing poetry to your own reflection?"
"The lonely wolf mocks the caged bird," he muses with that insufferable smile. "Daddy will be so proud of his pet's new tricks."
The words strike deep, and I have to fight not to show how they affect me. "My father can rot in whatever pit he's currently calling home."
"Ah, but here lies the riddle's answer," Mikail says, his expression turning serious, hunting. "Erlik stirs in the depths of Kara Cehennem. He gathers shadows and whispers, weaving plans from the threads of your supposed…vulnerability.”
Ice floods my veins despite the summer warmth. "What whispers?"
"The ones that sing of softness. Of weakness. Of how love has made the untouchable Shadow Lord…predictable.” Mikail's smile widens with malicious pleasure. "They compose ballads about your domestication, dear Kaan. Such beautiful, dangerous music."
My shadows writhe with murderous purpose as the implications sink in. If my own lords are questioning me, Erlik has more support than I thought. Somewhere in the direction of the village, I hear a dog howling in terror as my power responds to the threat.
"Which lords," I ask with bone-deep stillness, biting off each word, "dare question me?"
"Your own lords whisper harmonies behind closed doors. Even some of the younger shadows wonder if perhaps it's time for…new leadership." He examines his bloodied fingernails with affected boredom. "Your father finds these melodies…concerning.”
The mention of Erlik sends fury exploding through my chest. My father.
The demon who destroyed everything I ever loved, who turned me into this creature of shadows and death, who poisoned Isil's mind until she threw herself from the tower two hundred years ago, taking our unborn child with her because he found my capacity for love…inconvenient.” And now history threatens to repeat itself.
"Enough games," I snarl, shadows lashing out to crack the trunk of a nearby tree. "What does the bastard want?"
"A reunion. Father and son, sharing memories in the depths of Kara Cehennem. He has questions about your recent…compositions that he'd like to discuss personally."
"Tell him to go fuck himself with a rusty blade dipped in holy water."
Mikail talks with mock disappointment. "Such crude poetry. And here I thought marriage had refined your verse." His crimson gaze flicks toward the direction of the village, where lights still twinkle in cottage windows. "She truly is radiant, by the way. The light in her calls to hungry things."
The casual way he mentions seeing Nesilhan makes every shadow I possess surge toward him with lethal intent. "You've been watching her," I say, and my voice drops to something deadly quiet.
"The artist observes the masterpiece," Mikail replies with a shrug. "But I'm not here for pleasantries, Kaan. Your father stirs in the depths."
"What does that fucking mean, Mikail?" I snarl. "Quit talking in fucking riddles."
"Your father is particularly fascinated by the impossible fruit growing in your garden.
He wants you to pay him a visit," Mikail says, his form beginning to waver as he prepares to fade back into shadow.
"Light and Shadow were never meant to create life together, yet here you've managed to plant a seed that defies the very laws of creation.
Such a…unique child will require careful tending. "
The way he says 'unique child' makes ice flood my veins. He knows. Somehow, he knows about the prophecy.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then he'll simply have to visit you instead.
And I fear he might bring some of his newer compositions.
The kind who don't appreciate Light Court attachments or the complications they create.
" His form begins to waver as he prepares to fade back into shadow.
"You have two weeks to present yourself, or he comes here. "
The threat is clear, and my blood turns to ice. Erlik, here. In this peaceful village where Nesilhan sleeps, unaware that her husband's past is about to come calling with all the subtlety of an avalanche.
"Two weeks," I say finally, each word costing me something vital.
"Two weeks," Mikail agrees, his form becoming more translucent. "Don't keep him waiting. Erlik has never been patient with unfinished symphonies."
He dissolves into shadow, leaving me alone in the frost-covered grove with the weight of eight centuries of history crushing down on my shoulders.
Erlik somehow found out about Nesilhan. The thought of my father knowing about her, about our child, makes something howl in protest deep in my chest. She doesn't know the history of violence that follows in my wake.
Doesn't remember that being loved by me comes with a price paid in blood and darkness.
But Erlik knows. Erlik has always known exactly what kind of monster he created, and he's never approved of my attempts to be anything else.
I should leave. Should pack up my forces and return to the Shadow Court before this village becomes collateral damage in a war that started before Nesilhan was even born.
But the thought of leaving her, of abandoning the woman who carries my child while she's still vulnerable and memory-less, makes something howl in protest deep in my chest.
No. I won't run. Not this time. Not when I finally have something worth fighting for.
If Erlik wants a family reunion, he can have one. But it will be on my terms, in my time, when I'm ready to face the demon who destroyed my capacity for love once before.
I just have to make sure Nesilhan is safe first. Protected. Hidden away where even my father's considerable reach can't touch her.
Two weeks. Two weeks to prepare for a confrontation eight centuries in the making.
Two weeks to remember what it means to be the monster Erlik created, so I can protect the woman who's shown me what it means to be something more.
The irony isn't lost on me. To save the light, I'll have to embrace the darkness more completely than I have in centuries.
I just hope there's enough of me left afterward to remember why it mattered.