Chapter 30
The Devil's Bargain
K aan
The casual approval in his voice makes my skin crawl, but I force myself to lean back in my chair with affected casualness, ignoring the corpse sprawled beside the table like it's a minor inconvenience. The poison writhes beneath my skin, hungry for more violence, more creative destruction.
"Now then," Erlik continues, adjusting his napkin with casual precision as if we're discussing mundane family matters, "I assume you're here about that pesky little poison slowly eating through your veins.
Very dramatic timing, really—most people wait until they're actually dying before begging for help.
Though I suppose 'slowly transforming into a monster' does add a certain urgency to family visits.
Shall we get down to business, or would you prefer to kill a few more dinner guests first? I do have several I'm rather tired of."
"Remove it," I say, the words emerging rougher than intended. "Altan's curse. Remove it from my blood."
"Ah." He steeples his fingers, dark eyes gleaming with interest. "The poison that's slowly transforming you into what you were always meant to be. The poison that's finally teaching you to embrace your true nature. Why would I want to do that?"
"Because if I die," I say with the kind of smile that makes reality itself recoil in terror, "who rules the Shadow Court?
I am your only heir to Kara Cehennem. There is no one else with the power to control the seven factions, no one else who can keep the realm from tearing itself apart.
These idiots?" I gesture dismissively at the remaining demons.
"They can't even survive dinner without getting murdered. "
"The realm would tear itself apart within a week. Think of all that lovely chaos going to waste because nobody has the power to maintain order."
"A valid point," he concedes, though I can see him genuinely considering it. "The Shadow Court does require a certain... finesse to manage. These others lack your particular combination of ruthlessness and refined brutality."
"Exactly. And think of all the quality time we could spend together once I'm cured. Really explore the finer points of creative violence. Father-son bonding through mutual appreciation of suffering."
"Tempting," he admits, and I can see the idea appeals to him. "Though I have to ask—what's in it for me? Surely you don't expect paternal charity."
Here it comes. The real negotiation, the price that will damn us both.
"What do you want?"
His smile turns predatory, and I know I'm about to hear something that will make me regret this entire conversation. "I want to meet my daughter-in-law. Properly. Here, in Kara Cehennem, where we can... get properly acquainted."
"Over my fucking dead body."
"Then enjoy your transformation," he says with casual indifference, returning his attention to his dessert. "I'm sure you'll make a lovely monster. The silver veins are quite fetching."
The dismissal hits exactly where intended. The poison spreads with vicious intensity, silver fire racing through my veins as my time runs out with increasing urgency.
"Wait," I say through gritted teeth, hating myself for even considering negotiation.
"What if I offered something else? The child could carry your middle name, regardless of gender.
Little Erlik Jr. or Erlika—very traditional.
Though I have to warn you, if it's a girl and she inherits your personality, she'll probably try to overthrow us both by her third birthday. "
Erlik pauses, clearly considering this. "My middle name is Karanlik," he says with amusement. "Do you really want to saddle your child with 'Darkness' as a middle name? Very ominous for playground introductions."
"Well, it's either that or 'Disappointment,' which is what you'll get if I die and leave the realm to these incompetents," I gesture at the remaining demons. "Though 'Karanlik' does have a nice ring to it. Very intimidating on official documents."
"Tempting," he admits, "but insufficient. I want something more... personal."
"What kind of personal?" I ask, dreading the answer.
"Her memories," he says with predatory hunger. "Just a small portion—the ones of you, specifically. How delicious it would be to see how she truly viewed her monster husband before fear made her forget."
"Absolutely fucking not."
"Then perhaps a fragment of her life force?" he continues as if I haven't spoken. "Nothing fatal, of course. Just enough to create a... connection between us. Think of it as a wedding gift from grandfather to grandchild."
The casual way he discusses stealing pieces of Nesilhan's soul makes my shadows writhe with the promise of violence. "I'd rather let the poison turn me into your perfect monster than give you one drop of her essence."
"How romantic," he purrs. "Though I wonder—will you feel the same when the dark poison reaches your heart? When every breath becomes agony and your shadows start feeding on your own flesh?"
The poison chooses that moment to spike through my system, silver fire clawing at my chest until I double over, gasping. He's right—I can feel it spreading faster now, each heartbeat bringing me closer to complete transformation.
"There is... one alternative," he says thoughtfully, studying my convulsions with clinical interest. "I could settle for a simple meeting. Here, in Kara Cehennem, where we can get properly... acquainted."
"What kind of meeting?" I ask through gritted teeth, hating myself for even considering it.
"Nothing too strenuous," he assures me with paternal warmth that makes my blood run cold. "A simple purification ritual to ensure no remnants of the curse affect the child. She would need to be present, naturally—the magic requires her participation."
Exhaustion crashes over me as the poison spreads further, silver fire eating away at what's left of my strength. After his threats about her memories and life force, a simple meeting seems almost... reasonable. At least he's not asking to possess pieces of her soul.
"The ceremony," I say quietly, dreading the answer. "Explain it. Exactly what would she need to do?"
"Ancient shadow magic, designed to cleanse any lingering poison from the bloodline," he says with the kind of casualness that makes experienced demons reconsider their allegiances.
"She allows the darkness to flow through her briefly, channels it, and any poison is drawn out and destroyed. Perfectly safe."
I stare at him, suspicion cutting through the pain and desperation. "Wait. You always said Altan's poison was designed to destroy any heir that might threaten your throne. Why would you want to purify this one?"
His smile widens, genuine amusement dancing in his dark eyes.
"Ah, but according to the prophecy, this child won't be taking my throne, will it?
" He laughs, rich and warm and utterly chilling.
"The prophecy speaks of a throne that doesn't exist yet.
How can I fear something that poses no threat to what I already possess? "
The casual way he dismisses the threat makes my blood run cold, but the logic is sound. Still, I can't shake the feeling that this is another trap.
"Fine," I say finally, hating every word. "But I want a blood oath. You swear by your own blood that you will not harm Nesilhan or the child during this visit. No physical damage, no mental manipulation, no tricks."
Erlik tilts his head, considering. "A blood oath? How wonderfully old-fashioned. Very well—I swear by my blood that no harm will come to them by my hand during their stay."
"We cut palms and bind the oath properly," I insist, knowing that blood magic leaves no room for interpretation. Once sworn, he'll be physically unable to hurt them.
"Of course," he agrees with suspicious ease, already drawing a ceremonial dagger from his robes. "I wouldn't dream of harming the mother of my grandchild anyway. We're family, after all."
The lie tastes like ash in the air between us, but a blood oath is binding even for him. I extend my hand as he makes a precise cut across his palm, then mirrors it on mine. Our blood mingles as we clasp hands, and I feel the magic seal around us like chains.
"There," he says, releasing my hand with obvious satisfaction. "Now then, for the purification ritual to be most effective, we should make this... official. A wedding ceremony here in Kara Cehennem would seal the blood bond properly—ensure the magic takes hold completely."
His eyes light up with genuine delight at his own suggestion.
"How wonderfully traditional it would be.
Yes, I think that would be quite... memorable for everyone involved.
You know, we've never actually had a proper wedding here—plenty of funeral services, the occasional human sacrifice, but never a celebration where both parties remain breathing throughout the entire ceremony.
It'll be such a refreshing change of pace. "
"How romantic," I say through gritted teeth, though every instinct screams against bringing Nesilhan to this place.
"Nothing says 'happily ever after' like exchanging vows in a realm where the wedding cake traditionally screams when you cut it.
I'm sure she'll be thrilled by the ambiance—very 'gothic nightmare meets family reunion from hell.
' Should I register for gifts at Torture Implements & Beyond? "
Erlik chuckles with genuine amusement. "I do so love your sense of humor, my boy. It will make the ceremony much more entertaining."
The remaining demons around the table have been following our conversation with the rapt attention of spectators at a gladiatorial match.
Lady Lilith has actually stopped examining her nails and is now openly staring, her ice-chip eyes glittering with malicious anticipation.
Count Andromalius has begun taking notes on what appears to be parchment made from human skin, his quill scratching eagerly as he documents what will undoubtedly become palace gossip within hours.
"Tell me, Father," I say with false conversational lightness, "exactly how does one plan a wedding in the realm of eternal suffering?
I assume the traditional 'something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue' becomes 'something cursed, something tortured, something stolen, something that makes you question your sanity?’”
"Oh, we'll handle all the arrangements," he assures me with the enthusiasm of someone planning their favorite type of party.
"The ceremonial chamber will need to be prepared, of course.
We'll have to clear out the current occupants—though I suppose a few screaming souls might add to the ambiance. Very atmospheric."
"Naturally," I reply through gritted teeth. "And I suppose the traditional wedding march will be composed entirely of the lamentations of the damned?"
"How delightfully perceptive of you," Erlik says with genuine pride. "Though I was thinking we might commission something original. Perhaps a requiem in the key of suffering major?”
The casual way he discusses transforming our wedding into a supernatural horror show makes my shadows writhe with violence. But the poison continues its relentless advance through my system, silver fire eating away at what little time I have left.
"Just remember our blood oath," I warn, darkness coiling around my fingers in ribbons of shadow that make the remaining demons shift nervously in their seats.
"If anything happens to her—if she so much as gets a papercut during this visit—magical binding or not, I'll find a way to turn this entire realm into a crater and dance on the ashes. "
"Of course," he agrees with a false sincerity that sets every alarm in my head ringing like cathedral bells. "The blood oath ensures I couldn't harm her even if I wanted to. We're family, after all."
The lie hangs heavy between us, thick with malice and false sincerity, but the poison leaves me no choice.
Around the table, the assembled demons have begun whispering among themselves, their voices creating a susurrus of excitement that makes my skin crawl.
They know something significant has just occurred, can sense the shift in power dynamics that comes with successful manipulation.
I rise from the table with what dignity I can muster, stepping over Bael's corpse with practiced ease.
The silver veins beneath my skin pulse with renewed vigor, as if the poison is celebrating its victory.
Each step toward the door feels like walking through quicksand, the weight of what I've just agreed to settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket.
I force myself to meet his eyes one last time, memorizing that hunting smile for future reference.
Erlik's smile widens, that same terrifying expression that has haunted my nightmares for two centuries. "Do give Nesilhan my regards when you return to her. Tell her I'm very much looking forward to our meeting. I have so many... questions about her experiences with shadow magic."
The promise in his voice makes my blood freeze, but I force myself to continue walking.
Behind me, I can hear him instructing the servants to clean up the mess, his tone suggesting this is a perfectly normal end to family gatherings.
The casual way he discusses Lord Bael's corpse—as if murder over dinner is simply another course to be cleared away—reminds me exactly what kind of creature I've just made a bargain with.
"Oh, and Kaan?" he calls out just as I reach the dining room doors. "Do try not to die before the ceremony. It would be such a shame to waste all this lovely planning."
His laughter follows me through the corridors