"We have to help him." Elain pressed the damp cloth against Lucien's brow, her dark eyes flashing with concern, her face all but drained of color.
Azriel stared toward the collapsed male, now sprawled out across the small living room sofa in the townhouse, an amber fire crackling in the fireplace nearby.
Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Azriel steepled his hands, drawing his fingertips to his forehead as he rested his face on his thumbs. No. This... this was just... no. He had just gotten Elain. They had just begun their new life, their new routine here in Velaris—they had just begun healing from the stress of the summer, the drama of the meeting in Winter... and then that knock on the fucking door.
From the moment Lucien collapsed through the front door of the townhouse, Azriel had been stunned into silence.
All throughout the belabored explanation the roused fireling had offered between breathy sobs, Azriel had sat silent, calculating the risk, the odds, the likelihood of death. Elain had sat on the floor near the settee holding Lucien's hand as she looked up at him wide-eyed, raptly listening to the horrific story.
Vanserra had apparently invited Vassa and Jurrian to Patras.
His "found family" or whatever the hells it was called... Vanserra missed them. The summer with Elain had been long enough, and after the drama in Winter and Tamlin, he had longed for the normalcy of his friends. Lucien had been riding with Vassa, traversing the vineyards near Helion's sprawling palace, showing her some of his favorite pastures and the prized collection of Pegasi when he heard her shriek.
"I turned in my saddle and she was there, fallen on the ground, her face white and her body nearly aflame." Lucien shook his head, gulping down breaths of air as he struggled to maintain his composure, Elain still at his side, nodding encouragingly for him to continue. "I was worried she was transforming—her firebird form taking over perhaps? So I went to her, calling her name, but she wasn't there. I shook her, screaming her name, but she just stared blankly, her skin warm as her jaw fell open."
Elain shuddered, casting a worried glance to Azriel before turning back to Lucien. "But you were holding her? How did he take her?"
Lucien closed his eyes then, a single tear traveling down his face. "Yes. I was holding her. Her face swiveled to me, the blank hollow expression flooding her eyes as her mouth opened, and an eerie voice, one that was not hers. It was ancient... cold." He shuddered, now opening his eyes, gripping Elain's shoulder again. "The voice—it told me: you have until high noon. If you want to see her again, bring me the Cauldron."
"The Cauldron?" Elain whispered, her voice terrorized and shrill as her eyes searched Vanserra's face.
"I said the same thing." He whispered as well, shaking his head as his eyes closed again. "I said that's impossible."
"Well, it is impossible. The Cauldron is behind a barrier, on an island!" Elain furrowed her brows, shaking her head as well.
Lucien seemed to be growing faint again, the overwhelm of the day threatening to swallow him whole. "Vassa... or I guess, the voice... it just laughed before saying these words: 'there are yet Daughters of the Cauldron walking these lands: kin and offspring to whom the Cauldron will answer. And then she dissolved... in my hands, the laugh echoing through the vineyard."
And at those words, Elain recoiled, her entire body separating from Lucien as she scrambled backward, moving toward Azriel, as she uttered a single word: "No."
Coming back to the present, Azriel glanced toward Elain, his eyes dark and brooding.
"What choice do we have," she looked toward him, her voice a low hiss as she poured another cup of warm tea for the silent Shadowsinger. "I'm the only one who can save Vassa. Lucien, you heard him! He went to Sandrielle before coming here—he asked her, about the possibility. About my powers and the concept of being 'Made.' She said it was possible: that I could help."
"A priestess's intuition that the Cauldron can be summoned does not make it a guarantee." He replied sharply, his stress and agony beginning to swell in his throat. "It's not an item of the trove or a Made object."
"You're right... the Cauldron..." She shook her head, her eyes clouding over. "it's not a trove... it's as if the universe is contained within it— everything good, everything evil, and terrible and catastrophic, the time before and the time beyond—all the written days... all of it is in the Cauldron. It is petulant and ancient. I don't know why it would answer to me." Elain mused as Azriel nodded, feeling relieved that she was beginning to see sense before she flashed her eyes toward him, her mouth setting into a hard line. "But nevertheless, I want to try."
"And risk Prythian's safety in exchange for a human woman?" Azriel scoffed, his voice hysterical. "Ridiculous."
"But all we need to do is go. We've been to the lake before for mother's sake!" Elain said, coming close with the teas and placing them on the coffee table.
"I won't risk it. I won't risk you." Rising up from his elbows, Azriel crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, his wings draped over the back rim, brushing the carpeted floor. "Not for a thousand human women. Not for all of Prythian."
"Well.. THAT'S ridiculous." Elain scoffed, shaking her head and running her fingers through her curls, dropping into the matching chair next to Azriel. "He needs us."
"It's a trap. To get to you." Azriel argued back, his face beginning to become as white as the exhausted lordling across the room. "Remember the river? Your vision? Koschei, looking you directly in the eye, calling to you— 'the most beautiful female I've laid eyes on in my twenty thousand years'" he mock-quoted the words, his emotions spilling from him, unabated and fierce.
"Well, we already knew he was aware of me." Elain shook her head, reaching for the teacup as her eyes turned to Azriel's, dark and pleading. "I need to do this. I need to help him."
"No."
"I know you fear something happening to me. But we can do this: together. The earliest sign of danger... you can winnow me out. If it seems hopeless... we will leave. All I need to do is summon the Cauldron. The proximity could give you a chance to destroy Koschei."
"A Death God? You think I can kill a death God? Elain..." Azriel shook his head, his tone sorrowful.
"Didn't the King of Hybern kill the Weaver? Did he not behead her? Are you not more powerful than him?" She crossed her arms, the challenge crackling across the room in tandem with the sparkling fire.
Jutting out his jaw, Azriel just shook his head, unwilling to answer.
Frustrated, Elain shook her head. "I need to help him!" Her hand paused before the teacup, rising instead from her seat, she threw her hands out, exasperation clouding her sweet face.
He felt a burn of anger searing through his body. It was as if his happiness had arrived, steady and homey, his entire future laid out before him here in Velaris until that godsdamned knock at the front door. Lucien. Always interfering—always making his life difficult.
"You need to help him? Or do you just feel guilty that he saved my life?" The angry words spat out of Azriel involuntarily, the desperation to keep her close and safe—swallowing him whole, pushing out any sense of logic.
Elain paused, clearly stung by his words, but she merely quieted her voice, clasping her hands in front of her skirts. "Well, no. But even if we didn't owe him, it's the right thing to do." She leaned down then, resting her hand on his chin, holding his gaze to hers as she whispered her words. "And I think you know that. You're a good male Azriel. You're not a villain. I know you know what is right."
Collapsing into her hand, Azriel felt his eyes soak with tears. "I just.. I can't. I can't risk you. I just got you."
Smiling, her eyes crinkling at the corners, Elain leaned close so that her nose was nearly brushing his, her thumb now wiping the moisture that had gathered at his dark lashes. "You can't guard me like a firedrake for the rest of your life."
The words triggered a memory for Azriel, his eyes moving past Elain to rest upon Lucien for a moment. His mind traveled back to their argument in the Pegasi stables in Patras— Lucien accusing Azriel of guarding Elain like an overgrown puppy... Azriel spitting back that females are not property, even ones in mating bonds. How much more difficult it was to keep that sentiment now that he was here, happy and settled in the townhouse, Elain well-within his grasp—having to make a decision like this. Fucking Lucien.
The bitterness rose within his stomach, but it tampered back down quickly, a thread of logic beginning to weave its way through his brain, his centuries of training and spying beginning to rev to life within his skull. No. It wasn't Lucien's fault. It was Koschei's. Koschei, the mother forsaken death God: he was the one to blame.
And now that he was thinking about it, Azriel might like the opportunity to kill the fucker.
Glancing up from Lucien's quiet body and back into Elain's doe eyes, Azriel felt the truth weigh down, heavy on his skull, pounding and reverberating against his wings and stomach.
Elain was right.
They had to help Vanserra.
They owed him that much, but even if they didn't—it was what was right.
Reaching up to hold her face, Azriel growled, his voice low and menacing. "You're right. We'll go. But the second I sense even a whiff of danger to you—if my shadows sense anything within Koschei that suggests he is intending to harm you... I am winnowing you out of there, Lucien and Vassa be damned."
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
So it was decided.
Elain trembled as she walked beside Lucien, Azriel slipping amongst the dark pine trees behind them.
They were here, back on the continent under the brooding morning skies of Koschei's dark lake.
The soft ground beneath their feet crushed lightly, the moss and pine needles muffling their leather-clad steps. Elain felt a light mist on her face, the cold spittle falling from somewhere in the overcast sky, the chilling air creeping up her ankles under her skirts. She shivered, rubbing her arm with her hand, letting out a huff of steaming breath.
Azriel and Elain had met with the available members of the Inner Circle, discussing the circumstances of the situation in Rhys' study. They argued back and forth until the wee hours of the morning, trying to figure out a way to evade the death God, volleying ideas back and forth until there was nothing left to be suggested. The High Lord and Lady had concluded that there was simply no way around it—they must try to save Vassa.
Amren highly doubted that Sandrielle was right about the Cauldron, or that Koschei could even form a type of magic capable of summoning the actual Cauldron. Lucien was adamant that Koschei would not appear unless he came alone with only Elain, shooting down Cassian's idea to have everyone show up swords-a-blazing, ready to kill the death God sight-on-scene.
The High Lady had suggested that Azriel lurk nearby, whispering and winnowing through the trees outside the Lake like he had done in the camp in Hybern when they saved Elain. When there was an opening, Rhys ordered his spymaster to strike, killing Koschei without hesitation. Azriel was skeptical of his ability to kill a death God, but Feyre and Amren agreed with Elain that if the King of Hybern could kill the Weaver with a regular sword, why would a Shadowsigner not be able to kill her ancient deathly brother? The rest of the Inner Circle had thought it a decent plan as well, though Nesta had been pallid and ferocious, begging Elain not to go to the continent. Cassian had tried to calm his mate down, but when Elain refused to sit the mission out, her elder sister had stormed from the room, fuming silver light glowing in her wake.
Shaking her head, Elain sighed.
It wasn't a foolproof plan, but it wasn't terrible altogether. It gave them a chance to help Lucien and an opportunity to kill the death God—something Rhys had on his agenda anyways.
"Thank you for coming." Lucien's low whisper carried over to Elain who looked up toward the fireling, startled.
"It's the least I could do..." Elain answered quietly, her mind flashing back to the duel in Winter, another shiver coursing through her limbs. "I'm the one who owes you a thank you."
"No." Lucien replied, his face set to the route before them, his body wending gracefully through the closely knit trees. "It was wrong. All wrong. Tamlin was taking out his grievances on you... that is not your fault."
Elain nodded as she focused on the tips of her leather boots, walking steadily, her arm linked through Lucien's as she covered a particularly rocky level of terrain. "Nevertheless... to interrupt the Blood Duel... I'll never be able to thank you enough. And Lucien... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for telling you about Helion... It was not my place."
"Well, strangely, I find myself relieved."
Elain glanced up at him, her brows raised.
"Confused... yes. Angry? Also yes. But... I can't lie and say that I don't feel relieved. I've always felt not quite... right. Autumn... Spring... the Night Court... nothing felt right in my life until Patras. Until going to Day. And I thought it was you—our mating bond. I think that's why I argued with you so hard to keep the bond. Although it's clear we are not a love match, something within me fell into place when I came to Patras. Staying in the palace over the summer, I felt as though I had come home, and I truly thought that feeling of home was from my proximity to you, but now I see—"
"That it might have been Helion, not me creating that peace?" She finished his sentence, a smile curling his lips.
"Precisely." Lucien nodded then, his own grin beaming down at her. "You know... maybe if we give it a few decades... perhaps we could still form a friendship."
"Perhaps." She smiled too as they neared the edge of the forest, breaking out into the warm afternoon sun, now beginning to set low over the pine horizon, the orange and amber rays of sun glistening on the enormous dark lake before them.
Blinking in the sudden brightness, Elain's eyes scanned the edge of the lake as her heart began to rapidly increase, her fingers trembling as she reached to clutch Lucien's elbow.
Walking forward, his stance protective of Elain, Lucien called out toward the sparkling water. "Koschei!" He bellowed the words, not an ounce of fear reverberating from his chest as he threw his shoulders back, planting himself to the rocky terrain around the lake. "We have come. I have brought the Made-Female."
An eerie quiet fell over the lake as Lucien's voice echoed and bounced off the opposite shore as Elain felt herself draw back slightly, her heart nearly jumping out from her chest. She sensed Azriel's shadow at her feet, calming her anxiety slightly as she braced herself for the death God from her visions.
And just as she began to wonder if they had been tricked, Elain saw a dark figure stepping out of the Lake, impossibly tall and bony, a spiking hulking crown shooting up from his sunken face. She gasped as the figure rose up from the dark water, his spindly legs stepping in slow booming lunges, drawing himself up from the water, a sickening smile pasted on his face.
It was Koschei. The being from her visions... the death God himself.
She felt her breath catch in her throat as she instinctively drew away from the figure, everything within her screaming at her to run, to flee, and to never turn back.
But as she felt her body pivot, begging her to turn, she caught sight of a sparkle of flaming red hair. Koschei wrenched his arm up from the lake, dragging a sopping-wet Vassa beside him by her hair, wrenching her forward and throwing her to the ground on the rocky shore. She hissed at him, her expression deathly before she turned, her hair plastered to the side of her head as her soaked gowns pooled around her body, realizing that she was not alone with the death God.
"Lucien?" She croaked, her eyes blazing toward the fireling as tears began to fall heavy from her lashes, her arm lifting weakly from the sandy shore as she reached toward him.
Lucien launched toward her, throwing his full weight forward as he hollered her name, reaching back toward the human woman. "Vassa!" Flames licked the sand beneath his feet as he lunged. But the moment before their hands touched, Lucien seemed to plow up against an invisible blockade, keeping Vassa just out of reach.
His hands slamming into the invisible shield, he sunk onto his knees on the ground as she reached her hands up to the other side, their palms facing each other as Vassa's voice croaked into a broken whisper, the tears still streaming down her face as she gazed up at Lucien. "You came for me."