➸ 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 the youngest sister
of four has to fall into the deepest
pit of hell to reach heaven.
（ azriel x fem!oc ）
↳ slowburn!
𝗝𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗝𝗲𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗱𝘂𝗲𝘁 - 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑛𝑒
[acotar - acosf]
-› ᴄᴇ...
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-ˏˋ𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬ˊˎ 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
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THE AFTERNOON CHILL RANover Anastasia's spine in a slow pace, scratching her awake from her nap. Her head was hidden in the high grass as well as the rest of her body. She had fallen asleep on the Cliffside of the castle with Luane next to her.
But propping her head up on her palms, Anastasia found that she was all alone, safe for Salila who was sat in the shadow. The white of her fur not really hiding her presence. Salila was a winter wolf with thick white fur that glistened in the sun like snow and dark blue eyes that reminded Ana of the dark sea in the painting she walked by everyday. The wolf was enormous, bigger than a normal wolf in the mortal lands or the faerie wolfs—at least that was what Imelda told her.
Ana often felt like Imelda was over exaggerating with the way she told her about the animals that lived on the Elf lands or the water bodies that gave these lands life. But that was also why the two of them had formed a special kind of relationship. They both loved telling or writing stories, whether they were true or pure fantasy. The joy was the same. Had been the same.
Anastasia hadn't written a story or anything at all in a long time. She hadn't noted down any information or written reports about her days. Didn't tell about her adventures with her new found friends in any notebooks.
It just didn't feel right. Not when the last time she wrote was a journal entry about Cian. Not when it was about her worry for him, his family and her own. Not when it was about the threat of Hybern—the mortal Queens.
Her interest in writing stories has resolved into a faded memory, but she didn't mind that. Ana was alright with it, because life went on. It had to. For her at least, because Alasdair had made it clear that she needed to get away from the past and live in the present. If not for herself then for Cian and her sisters. That whisper had then returned, the voice that had told her almost her whole life, she owned it to them.
