A Circumstance of Anguish and Amnesia

Azriel growls as he readies to face his opponents in the Illyrian training ring, his cobalt blue siphons glowing with barely contained power. He wants the girls to start off sparring him; all of them against him, to assess their individual skill levels. However, his air of confidence and his smug expression drops suddenly when three figures approach, carrying torches. Large, flaming torches, bigger than the appendages they had once burned. He staggers a step back, all of his training seeming to drain from his mind as he hovers the line between flight and freeze.

His step-brothers and another Illyrian male, no doubt basking in his killing power. This was not an offer to train some of the females. It was a trap set just for him, so they could get rid of him once and for all.

Before he can take off into the sky they toss those torches, hitting both of his wings as they get cast alit. He yells out in pain at the burn as he falls back to the ground, rolling to put out the flames that have spread through his wings. As he does so, they appear above him, beginning their vicious assault; punches and kicks of power to his head, his chest, and his groin. He tries to fight back, raising his hands in defense until the unknown male pins him down, smashing his siphons and every bone in his hands with his powers, rendering him wild and disoriented with his own power and pain. That's when another one focuses on his head again, kicking and punching and blasting. The third gets out his own array of knives, pushing them through his armor and piercing his flesh in multiple places, rendering him bruised and bleeding out.

As his entire world fades to black, all he can do is begin to mutter a prayer to the Mother as he thinks of his beautiful mate to bring him peace.

.

.

.

Cassian wails in rip-roaring desperation as he lands hard at the River House. "Help!! Rhys!! Rhys!!", the scraping pain resounds out of his throat, as he doesn't stop screaming.

Rhys, Feyre, and Mor come running out of the home, Feyre covering her mouth as they see the sight in front of them, before she turns and vomits. Rhys orders her to go back inside with Nyx and Mor gapes, tears in her eyes.

"Mor, get Madja. NOW!"

She scuttles away as he rushes over to Cassian, holding a limp and bloodied Azriel, his face nearly unrecognizable with swelling and burns all over his wings.

"Who the fuck did this?"

"I-I don't know. I was training with the girls and Gwyn...sh-she knew something was wrong, she felt his pain." He sobs chokingly as he lies Azriel on the ground. "His pulse is barely there, Rhys."

"There are only three people I know who would seek retribution like this. I won't make the mistake of allowing them to still breathe this time."

Cassian clenches his jaw, his voice breaking and then hardening with anger. "His step-brothers..."

"Exactly. They saw an opportunity for a trap and took it. I knew that invitation was odd! Why did I allow him to—"

"Az isn't easily swayed, Rhys. He would have if it involved helping those girls, we both know that."

Rhys materializes a pillow and Cassian places Azriel on the outdoor sofa, his enlarged head on the pillow carefully. "Lucien!", Rhysand bellows, and Cassian flicks his gaze to him. "He just winnowed in for some reason. I can scent him."

He can hear Feyre chattering to him, crying, and Lucien rushes out, halting at the sight. "What the fuck?"

Cassian looks up at him pleading and Rhys's hands shake—actually shake. "Please...Lucien, please help him", Cassian begs.