Mara was not surprised by the power of the Middle.
She had interacted with aging things, created back when power ran freely, less contained and more feral.
Dark magic, some called it. But it did call to Mara, especially blood magic. Any runes, signs and symbols pertaining to blood magic known to the wizarding world were also known or created by Mara.
There had been a period in time when Mara had spent a few decades creating spells. A cut in the shape of a triangle and Mara would own that person's hand. Mara had little blood in comparison to humans or fae.
But if she were to slice open her palm, her blood would be magical, and destructive. Shaking mountains, calling oceans, raising armies.
Vampires were creatures of the dead, cursed, they didn't have blood flowing through their veins.
"The child of death and life will taint the worlds in which she is entitled."
Child of death she understood, and if it hadn't been through years of experience she would have let her body shiver, let her experience such an imperfect and valuable thing.
No Maras blood had magic that was like the Middle. Explosive and dangerous.
But Mara liked that, enjoyed the fact that she was like a ticking bomb, that she was something different and unexplored. If she could bleed more freely she would have experimented, figured out the true extent of her powers.
By appearances alone, the Middle was nothing special. Trees still grew, and water still flowed. But it was the pure power that ran through everything that made it special.
The odd group of people all looked on edge, weapons ready to be drawn and tight expressions.
Alphard had already turned to Mara, who was apparently the leader of this odd bunch. Despite being the first to arrive Mara was the calmest, unlike Helion who had arrived last and was looking particularly nervous.
When she focused Mara could feel his heart beating faster, taunting her. He was nervous, more nervous than any of the other High Lords.
Helion Spell-Cleaver. Blessed with the ability to seamlessly cut through magical wards and enchantments. He knew magic and wards, he could feel them.
But Mara could see them, see the ancient magic, see the spells keeping everything in the Middle in, and everything else out.
Mara wanted time to focus, to research the prophecy, to gather information, to be prepared. But she didn't have that kind of time, none of them did.
Instead, she might have just brought them to a dangerous place that could get them all killed. Well, not Mara unless she was decapitated and burned, but she doubted anything here could accomplish that.
She had the ability to control armies, anything or one with blood running through its veins bowed to Mara.
And she liked that.
The group was still tense with silence, Mara willed herself to focus, ignoring the instinct to pounce onto someone's neck and bleed them dry. Nothing here was of use, she had been wrong, nothing with a beating heart had any pull towards Mara.
No, she was drawn towards the Night Court, past the camps. She had studied enough maps to have a clear picture in her head as to where she felt herself being led.
The prison, where Helion had been facing.
⭒☾ 𑁦.⭒✰⭒.𑁦☽⭒✧⭒☾ 𑁦.⭒✰⭒.𑁦☽⭒
Azriel hated the prison, not that he thought anyone really enjoyed it but everything unnerved him. The loud sound of waves violently crashing against the rocks seemed to haunt his ears.
It unnerved him more when mara just strutted in through the gates that can only be unlocked with the blood of the Night Courts High Lord. The journey here had already been rather gruelling, but a solid distraction from the events of the day.
And what had been interrupted this morning.
It seemed at every turn with Mara there was something new about her to discover, her personality, her humour, the sound of a true belly laugh, her favourite drink and her powers.
She was mysterious, only ever revealing enough. As the Night Courts spy, it infuriated him beyond measure, but for the same reason, he appreciated it.
When they were together there were no questions that felt uncomfortable, and silence was appreciated just as much as loud joy was.
It was a change from his normal lifestyle that only included joy when he was with his family.
And Azriel was slowly becoming addicted.
Even when she did stupidly dangerous things such as pulling forward into a prison without any protection. He was sure that she could protect herself, he had seen it first hand, but that didn't mean he couldn't protect her back.
It felt wrong not to. Whatever they were, she was still his and something about that made his heart stutter and a fierce rush of protectiveness follow.
But he didn't have time to dissect through how he felt around Mara, not when she was leading them down a dark path.
The shadows here didn't communicate with him, they were their own, with no one to control them. Helion quickly followed her.
He was thankful that the prison cells weren't open as he had seen in the human realm, there were monsters down here that he didn't want to think about.
The deeper they travelled the more alert Azriel became, Mara, looked calm and unaffected as usual. It only had she suddenly stopped did Azriel notice how sickly Helion looked.
The cells door was closed, and there was no voices or sounds coming from behind, the only sound that could be heard was the murmuring from other cells.
Mara once again went and opened the door with ease, as if it wasn't heavily warded. Helion waited by the door, Rhysand and Feyre were quickly following Azriel.
Azriel was expecting a monster or a death trove, anything either than another fae.
The fae was old, wrinkly and the oldest fae he had ever seen. His ears had a sharper point than the high fae had today. All he did was smile at Mara as if she was the only one in the room that deserved his attention.
His grin was equally infuriating and toothless, "Ah you really are your father's daughter. He always jumped right into the action as well."
For the first time a look of surprise covered Maras face, "My father?", a spectacle brow rose on her face.
The fae looked positively delighted at Mara's confusion, "Oh you didn't know about your fae heritage? Why do you think you could find me here? Why Koschei is after you? Why you are the key to the final death trove?"
After the faes revelation he let out a cackling laugh, one that seemed to shake the very ground they stood on, Mara approached him, faster than Azriel's fae eyes could even keep up with. Her hands gripped the old fae's jaw, but he kept laughing.
As quickly as it started, his laughter stopped and he slowly melted. That was the only word Azriel could use to describe the quick puddle that was once a fae on the floor.
Helion, Feyre and Rhysand all stared at the puddle that was once the fae, only MAra and Azriel weren't looking. They hadn't looked away from each other since the fae had begun his revelation about Mara's heritage.
Azriel knew she was a witch, knew she was born a vampire, didn't think too much about it. Mara was Mara.
But he hadn't hidden his face when the news was revealed, hadn't controlled the look of disgust he had given Mara. Nor had she hidden her flinch at his reaction.
There wasn't a single known half-fae alive, prejudice against them rang deep.
Deeper in Azriel than he had thought, because he had just looked at Mara with disgust, down at her, like she was nothing. Looks he used to receive at the camps.
But he wasn't a camp leader or an angry male fae, he was supposed to look at Mara with nothing but appreciation and love...
And now all he was doing was looking at her retreating figure, too stunned to do anything.
He had just majorly fucked up.