I meet her burning gaze and smile with too many teeth. "We do. But remember—I'm not some frightened supplicant grateful for your mercy. I'm Kaan Karanlikoglu, son of Erlik, Lord of the Shadow Court. When our business is concluded, you might find yourself wishing you'd stayed in your lamp."
Her laugh is music and threat combined. "I look forward to discovering which of us leaves more scars, shadow prince."
The grinding sound from the main chamber grows louder. Stone cracking. Dimensional barriers fracturing.
"Then let's begin," Peri Ayse says, and the golden smoke that birthed her begins to swirl once more. "Your fairy first. Bring me to her."
The real game is just beginning. And this ancient predator is about to learn what happens when you try to play with something even darker than yourself.
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 tornand 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.
Elçin'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, Elçin makes a strangled sound—not pain, but something worse. Somethinglike 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 owneyes that she's truly alive. Relief floods through me so violently that my knees nearly give out, but I force myself to stay upright.
Elçin's own face is streaked with tears as she watches my approach.
