Azriel | Lux Ex Tenebris ✓

Chapter 65: Broken Soul

✧Misma POV✧

Then the locket fell onto the table, screaming and whining and howling and roaring and shaking, shuddering—

Nesta cut through it like the true warrior, the true Valkyrie, she was. Her expression was determined, slicing right through the middle of the locket—of his soul.

Smacking my hands over my ears I tried to shield myself from the scream, the scream that hollowed through the whole house, tore through our eardrums and made wicked fire blaze through my whole body.

And then there were shadows, dust and darkness and light.

I hadn't even realised that I had my eyes squeezed shut, slowly blinking them open and taking in the foggy, dusty room. Narben was lying on the table next to the destroyed soul. Its blade seemingly burning like hot iron. Nesta was panting heavily, her hands braced on the table. Her gaze was on me, lids her narrowed, her chest heaving. "We did it." Helion declared, steadying his son who leaned onto him. Drawing in a shaky breath, I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at Rhys and Amren who both looked at the table in utter admiration and also slight shock.

"You did it," now also Rhys declared and in the next moment the door flung open, revealing no other than Cassian who immediately dashed towards the table and scooped Nesta up in his arms, hugging her as tightly as possible. "Holy Gods! You are in one piece and fine. And look so damn powerful right now!"

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I felt arms also wrap around me from behind. I was soon moved into the comforting warmth of my mate, only to feel someone bump against us and dash past us. Not someone. Elain.

With full speed she stormed over to her mate, cupping his face in her hands and kissing his cheek.

"You did it," Cassian also expressed, his gaze drifting towards the sword and the destroyed locket, smoke rising from both of them. I looked around in the room.

"Your hands, Lucien," I breathed out, lowering my gaze and staring at Lucien's bright red hands. Gods, they must have been burned—terribly burned.

"It is fine, I'll just—"
"It is not. Rhysand, call that healer of yours. Madja!" Elain demanded, nothing calm or soft in her voice. It was also no question. It was a demand. And Rhys understood, bowing his head at her. He probably called her mind to mind as he did not make a move out of the room.

"He felt it. He felt it that we destroyed it," I whispered. He had definitely felt it. Nausea cramped my stomach, a bitter taste filling my mouth. My head started aching and my skin turned icy-cold.

"He felt it and he is weakened. I felt that."

My High Lord nodded in understanding, although I myself wasn't even sure how I could tell. But I felt it. I felt him. I saw him being weakened. Maybe because we had touched each other? I had no idea.

Are you alright? Shall we head home? Do you need rest?
Don't worry. I appreciate that a lot, but I am fine. A bit cold but—

And in the next moment Azriel threw his big jacket over me, his arms wrapping around my body, holding the jacket in place and pressing me against his chest. It was beyond me how fast he had slipped out of his jacket, especially with the wings.
Better?
Better.

Elain leaned her head against Lucien's and stared with blank eyes at his burned hands, agony painting her features. Once again I inhaled deeply, my mind replaying what had just happened.

When Madja had arrived Rhys ordered Azriel to pick her up and fly her up to the House of Wind. Up to where we were.

Rhys and Feyre were meant to go to their Palace as an emissary had arrived there for them. They had just been informed about the emissary not about where he came from and what he wanted. They excused themselves and left alongside Azriel. I had wanted to return the jacket as he was the one going outside and having to fly through the cool air, but he declined saying I would need it more. My mate.