Nesilhan looks even worse than when I left her—the binding pulses visibly beneath her skin now, golden threads of stolen magic flowing toward Yasar with every heartbeat. The exertion of following us through dimensional passages has accelerated the drain. She's swaying on her feet, and I watch Elçin tighten her grip to keep her upright.
"The binding is feeding faster," Elçin observes grimly, her warrior's eye catching what others might miss. "The ambient magic in this place is amplifying it. We don't have long."
I see Yasar tense, feel his shadows flicker with something that might be guilt or might be calculation. Hard to tell with him.
Peri Ayse's attention sharpens as her gaze falls on them, but I notice how her eyes keep sliding back to me, how her perfect form seems to orient itself toward my presence with obvious interest. "How delicious." She studies each of them in turn—clinical, assessing, pricing them like goods at market. "The twilight child, broken by binding magic and Veil poison." Her gaze lingers on Nesilhan, taking in the dark veins spreading from her leg wound, the way she trembles with exhaustion. "And his little wife. So depleted. So corrupted. So very... mortal in her vulnerability."
I see Nesilhan's eyes narrow at the dismissive tone, see the way her jaw tightens despite her exhaustion. Even half-dead and magically drained, my wife recognizes a threat when she sees one. The binding may be draining her, but her possessive fury is apparently eternal.
Peri Ayse continues her assessment, barely glancing at Elçin before her gaze returns to me. "And a warrior to guard the fallen. How... touching."
"Where's Banu?" I demand immediately, realizing she's not with them.
"Still in the outer chamber," Elçin says, her expression tight with guilt. "Moving her would kill her faster than the poison. She's unconscious—couldn't wake her even to warn her we were leaving." Her voice cracks slightly. "But I felt that power surge. Whatever you found down here, it better be worth abandoning my—" She cuts herself off, jaw tight.
"Can you help?" The question comes from Elçin, her warrior's pragmatism cutting through the tension. "Can you save her?"
"Can I?" Peri Ayse's lips curve wider, revealing teeth that seem too perfect, too white. She turns that burning gaze back to me, pointedly ignoring everyone else. "Bound to this vessel for millennia, I've developed certain... capabilities. I can grant requests—as many as you can afford to pay for."
She moves to the altar, trailing her fingers across the ancient stone as she speaks. The gesture is casual, but I catch the way her form shifts slightly in the lamplight, how the translucent silk clings and flows with each movement. Everything about her is a calculated performance.
"Healing essence-draining poison," she continues, her voice dropping to something almost intimate. "Breaking divine bindings. Transportation across realms to places even gods hesitate to tread." Those burning eyes find mine again. "I am quite versatile, shadow prince. The question is—" She pauses deliberately, lets the silence stretch. "—what are you willing to sacrifice to obtain what you need?"
The words come out before I can stop them. "Can you raise the dead?"
Silence falls over the chamber. I feel Nesilhan's shock,and then I feel everyone's eyes on me. But I keep my gaze locked on Peri's ancient eyes.
Peri Ayse's expression shifts—not mockery, but something almost like sympathy. "No," she says simply, and for once there's no seduction in her voice, just ancient truth. "Death is the one barrier even we cannot cross. The dead belong to powers far older than me, shadow prince. I can heal. I can transport. I can manipulate life force." She pauses. "But I cannot return what has passed beyond the veil of death itself."
The grief hits fresh, as raw as the day I held that tiny, still form. My shadows pulse outward in waves, responding to pain I can't voice.
"Then heal her," I say, my voice rougher than intended, gesturing to Nesilhan. "My wife. The poison in her leg. Fix that first."
Nesilhan's head snaps up despite her exhaustion. "Kaan, no. Banu is dying?—"
"And you're being eaten alive by Veil poison AND a parasitic binding," I interrupt, my shadows coiling protectively around her even from across the chamber. "Banu is unconscious. You're awake and in agony. We're fixing you first."
Through what bound us, I feel Nesilhan's surge of emotion—shock, warmth, and then fierce determination. "No," she says, her voice stronger despite her exhaustion. "Banu saved my life in the Veil. Multiple times. She's dying because she helped me escape. I won't—" Her voice cracks. "I won't let her die because you love me."
Elçin's quiet voice cuts through. "The Veil poison in Nesilhan's leg is spreading, but slowly. Banu's essence is being actively consumed. Tactically, we save Banu first, then address Nesilhan's injury." Her jaw tightens. "Even if every instinct screams to protect our own first."
I turn back to the Peri. "What would it cost to heal her leg? To purge the Veil poison?"
Peri Ayse studies Nesilhan with stoic interest, her gaze tracking the dark veins spreading up her leg, the way the binding pulses beneath her skin. "The Veil poison is... manageable. Painful, yes. Corrupting her magic, certainly. But not immediately fatal." Her burning eyes return to me. "The fairy, however, has hours at most. The essence-draining toxin is consuming her from within. Every moment we waste negotiating brings her closer to a death I cannot reverse."
She moves closer to me, her voice dropping. "I understand your priorities, shadow prince. You want to save your wife first. But if we heal her leg now and the fairy dies while we negotiate..." That knowing smile returns. "You'll have a living wife who will hate you for choosing her over her friend. I've seen bonds destroyed by such choices."
The manipulation is obvious, but the logic is sound. Nesilhan would never forgive me if Banu died because I prioritized her comfort over Banu's survival.
"The fairy first, then," I concede, hating every word. "What would it cost to save her?"
She turns back to me, and I see the number in her eyes before she speaks it. "The poison has tainted her life force at the fundamental level. To save her would require... restoration. A transfer of vitality from living sources to replace what's been devoured."
She gestures at us each in turn—me, Yasar, Nesilhan, Elçin. "Fifty years from each of you four. Two hundred years of life force, drained and transferred through my magic." She lets that land, watches our reactions with interest. "Not fatal, of course." That look again. "But you'll feel the weight of those years. Your bodies will remember what was stolen, even if time does not claim you immediately."
Fifty years each. Two hundred years total. This creature plays by different, far more expensive rules than children's tales.
"Wait." Elçin's voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding. Her storm-gray eyes are fixed on the Peri with warrior's assessment. "You said some prices reveal themselves after bargains are sealed. Specify. What hidden costs?"
