Odd.
And what only seemed like seconds later, the doors burst open, an array of soldiers thundering into the room.
They were large humanoid creatures, with rounded ears and bat-like wings.
Illyrians.
They were Illyrians.
They carried all sort of weapons, and a sneer was permanently etched into all of their faces.
I felt a small amount of hope go straight through me, because where there were Illyrians, their master were never far behind.
"What should we do with all of them?" One asked, his nose scrunching as he surveyed the room.
Another responded to him, which I assumed was the leader, "We'll inform the Spymaster and the High General. We have another task at hand, hopefully to keep our heads safe from Keir."
I know that name. Where do I know that name?
The room, which was illuminated by enchanted torches that burned no matter what, became seemingly dark.
Out of the shadows, another Illyrian appeared. The shadows danced around him, flicking at his skin and blue siphons. 7 of them.
He looked lethal, and scary, but I didn't feel that way. He felt... safe.
"Have you found the sword?" The Shadowsinger asked his subordinates, tucking his wings behind him.
"No," the leader addressed. "We just stumbled across this room."
"Search the other rooms, we don't have time for you to waste." The Shadowsinger commanded.
The small group of Illyrians listened, and went on their way, out of the room.
Luckily, the Shadowsinger wasn't done in here. He quickly looked over all the creatures, assuming them dead or worse assuming by the stillness of their bodies.
And then his eyes passed over me.
HELP ME.
HELP ME, PLEASE.
I would beg and pray for the next thousand years if for only this moment I would be noticed.
As if he had heard me, he looked at the mirror. He shook his head, and returned to the glass casket. He looked down at me as if he was trying to remember where he had seen me before.
And then it hit the Illyrian.
"Cassian!" He yelled desperately. He sank down to his knees over my casket, staring at the body within.
Cassian.
Another Illyrian enters, wearing as many siphons, but gleaming red. His hair was pulled back into a man bun of sorts, as he pushed back his wings. "I thought we weren't supposed to say names in the field, Azriel."
Azriel.
His name felt like a song, an answer to a well worn out prayer.
Azriel.
"Cass, it's her." He breathed out, daring to touch the glass in front of him. I recognized his scarred hands, and wished I could remember what they felt like.
"Her? What do you mean—" Cassian said, before looking down at the body. "No," he says firmly, "it's impossible. We looked for her body for years."
"And yet, she's right here." Azriel breathed out. His eyes trace my body, as if he cannot believe what he sees.
Carefully, Cassian prods, "Are we sure that it's her?"
Azriel's nose flares, and anger strikes his eyes as he turns to face his brother. "It's her. I never forgot her face."
"Our High Lord is going to kill us." Cassian says after a moment, as his eyes look teary for a moment. He looks away, looking anywhere but at my lifeless body. Cassian knows Azriel is right.
I'm here.
"I don't care. We found her, Cassian. We found Carina." Azriel said, as he begun removing the glass casket out of the way.
Carina.
I was Carina.
Half-Illyrian, half-High Fae.
Daemati. The Nightmare.
Sister of Rhysand, and the only daughter to the High Lord of Night.
The Spring Court tortured and killed my mother in front of my eyes, they tore off my wings, and for those sins, they would pay with their lives.
I vowed revenge if I ever escaped my mirrored cage.
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
The North Star
Фанфик[DISCONTINUED UNLESS I HAVE READERS COMMENT ME THAT THEY WANT MORE, IF SO, VERY SLOW UPDATES] As much as he'd like to forget, Rhysand isn't an only child. It's been a few hundred years since his sister had died, and every since that day, he had neve...
