afflicted

36: Azriel, present day

The noise came again, the distinct crunch of a heavy boot in the woods. Cassian caught Azriel's gaze, pointing to their left flank where Azriel's side was entirely exposed. Cassian lifted his brows to silently communicate that that was where the nose had come from. Azriel gave a short nod, scanning the trees for any sign of movement.

Another came from the entire opposite side, and Cassian's eyes widened, looking at Azriel with visceral panic in his hazel eyes. They were fucking surrounded. Somehow, they'd known they were there and had come to ambush them. The realization set in heavy, and for a moment Azriel wondered if it was even worth the fight to survive. The two Illyrians were mere shadows of the warriors they were before now.

The air directly in front of them rippled slightly, and before their eyes could even register it, two men stood before them nonchalantly. Azriel's stomach lurched, and his hands found the ground in an attempt to steady himself. He felt like he was spinning, blinking harshly to try and focus his eyes. He'd really lost his mind. Because in front of him was his dead brother and his arch enemy, who he'd assumed was dead, too. Together. And quickly drawing a lot of attention to themselves.

Apparently seeing no more reason to remain hidden, a circle of guards stepped towards them on all sides. There had to be at least 20 from the way they managed to cover and close every gap. Azriel heaved, his empty stomach producing nothing but stomach acid that stung the back of his throat.

Cassian stood, looking around at the soldiers as his chest heavily rose and fell. He ran a hand back through his matted hair and swore under his breath, reluctantly reaching for his sword as if it mattered at this point.

"Thought I smelled something bleeding," one soldier gruffed as he gestured to the bandages on Cassian's back which had bled through, the wounds reopening at some point during their travel. Rhysand looked pale as he stumbled a step back as he took in Cassian's lack of wings. Rhysand understood what it meant to be a clipped Illyrian. He'd never again be taken seriously as a warrior. He'd essentially been castrated as a fighter.

"What... wha-" Rhysand mumbled like he couldn't even wrap his mind around what he was seeing. Azriel gagged again, his body refusing his hallucinations. He squeezed his eyes shut and begged his body to stop.

"What a great prize to present to the Queen," one of the guards behind Rhysand snickered. "Maybe she'll even let us into her bed for this one."

"I know you," a guard said from the side. Their heads jerked to him as he sneered. "Pretty boy High Lord." All of the other guards stiffened, looking to each other as if that were something they hadn't expected. As if any of them could have. A prize, for sure. The exact people Maeve was seeking to eradicate. 

"Cass," Rhys tried again, but his words failed him. His brows were knitted, and he looked in so much pain that for a second Eris was concerned. He patted Rhysand's shoulder, attempting to recenter him. Rhysand was acting like they weren't surrounded on all sides by enemies. 

"Rhys," Eris hissed, urging the High Lord to do something- anything- to get them out of this mess. Rhys blinked, shaking his head slightly as though he'd lost himself for a moment. "Some of that woo-woo magic shit might be nice right now." The guards began to close in, smirking like a predator stalking prey. They swung their swords like they couldn't be bothered, like they knew they had already won. 

Growling, Rhysand conjured a rumbling, vicious darkness, pouring it into their mouths and eyes and noses as they choked and gagged, desperate for air he was never going to give them. Azriel saw a look on Rhysand's face he'd only ever seen in the First War when he'd realized his father had split him up from his brothers to get them all killed.

Rage. No, something far beyond rage. It boiled in his blood and echoed off of him in dense tendrils of clouded black smoke. Rhysand's eyes darkened, turning entirely black before all at once, he snapped the necks of twenty guards and Azriel looked around as he watched their bodies collapse unceremoniously.