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Madja:
Walking up to the High Lords old town house, the first autumn leaves crunched beneath my feet, signalling the start of a whole new season. The sun had been out in full glory the week before, but now dark grey clouds loomed overhead like a blanket. A cold gust of wind sends chills shivering down my back and I reach for my neckline, gathering fabric around it with an instinctive numbed attempt at keeping myself warm. I can't help wishing I had thought to bring a scarf or a light jacket with me.
As I stand before the entrance to the townhouse, I can clearly see the stark contrast between its current state and what it used to look like a few years ago. The grass was always manicured and trimmed to perfection, the wooden fence painted regularly so that it gleamed in the sunlight, and there were never any dead leaves or debris scattered across the small front porch leading up to the entrance. It used to be a beautiful sight that everyone could appreciate when they passed by.
But now, things look so drastically different. The small wooden door leading into the garden is creaking, the rust on its hinges making it difficult to open. The grass and weeds have grown long on both sides of the path, completely obscuring the stone walkway up to the entrance. And what used to be a bright and beautiful window is now stuck in dirt and grime, with spider webs hanging from nearly every corner of its frame. The house that once stood proud on the street, now seems to fall apart.
I raise my hand to knock on the door, but before I can do so, it already swings open and Cassian comes into view. His formidable frame is clad in armour as if he is preparing for a great fight. There's an intensity and a determination in his gaze that speaks of the situation inside of the house.
"Thank you for coming," Cassian speaks, as he allows me to enter the house.
Entering the house is like stepping into a distant memory. What used to be a passage bursting with nostalgia, now only contains faded traces of what once was there. The paintings that once hung on these walls are now gone, having been replaced by small impressions left behind of their frames. It is as though the memories have been forgotten or removed, the life in the house that once was - no longer here.
Cassian extends his hand, offering to take my heavy medical bag from me which I am happy to oblige. The bag is quite bulky, full of herbs, serums and various vials of medicines. It's clear that he had not expected the bag to be as heavy as it was when he shoots me a surprised look. I can't help but feel a slight bit of pride for being able to lug this around with ease despite its weight. I am stronger than I look, Illyrian.
Suddenly I hear the voices of argument, the sound increasing in intensity as I approach. It is none other than Rhysand and Amren going at each other, something that has become all too common for me to witness. Judging by the tone and length of their argument, it has been going on for quite some time. Even though it bores me to observe their constant squabbles after so many centuries, I have no choice but to go meet them where their voices come from.
Inside of the living room, Amren is perched on an armchair in front of a chess-game, her small frame illuminated by the setting sun glowing through the windows. Rhysand paces back and forth in front of the couch, his Illyrian wings held high while Emerie sits in a specially built chair for her wingspan. Amren holds onto a glass of wine with one hand, gazing out at the scenery beyond as if lost in thought. The room is filled with tension between the two of them.
"High Lord," I speak up, to break whatever bickering argument he was about to speak. Rhysand looks my way, as his shoulders slag. He too his clothes in leathers, with his weapons strapped to his shoulders.
"Madja, thank you for coming in such a hurry," He says to me, as he walks to stand in front of me.
"Is this regarding the High Lady?" I inquire, my mind lingering on her current state. Nothing has drastically changed for the worse, but her fatigue and exhaustion has continued to build up over time. This has caused me to visit every three days in order to assess and monitor her health, although Rhysand had begged me to come an extra time here and there out of concern. Despite our best efforts, we were still no closer to uncovering what was causing this anomaly.
"It is not," He says, while shaking his head. He looks to Amren, who simply nods to whatever unspoken conversation the two share.
"Come, it would be better if I showed you," He speaks softly as he extends his arm, motioning for me to go back down the hallway. As I take a step forward, I am faced with Cassian who silently stands in front of us with a determined expression on his face and arms crossed firmly as he stares menacingly at Rhysand who is standing behind me. His rigid body language speaks louder than words; it's clear that he does not approve of Rhysand's words.
"Brother, I think you should stay here," Cassian says, while sending Rhysand a warning look.
"Nonsense, move Cassian," Rhysand says, but Cassian does not.
"Do not start a fight, Rhysand," Cassian says as he squares up against his brother. As this tense exchange is going on, I feel an unfamiliar sensation wash over my hand. Startled by the suddenness of it, I look down to see what could have caused it. There is a dark shadow that drifts across my fingers and appears as if it were pulling on them gently. So the Shadowsinger is here too.
Cassian watches this happens, until he sighs out: "Sorry, he is having some issues with them,"
I simply shake my hand at him, the shadow hurrying away, probably back to its master.
"Come on," Cassian calls from over his shoulder as he picks up the pace and begins his ascent. His footfalls echo loudly in the dark void we'd been travelling through, up a staircase that seems to stretch on forever. The shadows become more dense with each step we take, tightening around us like an oppressive fog. But as soon as I move my foot onto the next stair they part like a curtain, giving me enough space to comfortably pass through - if I hurry.
Behind me I can hear someone huffing out, and I turn on the stairs to look down at Rhysand. A wall of shadows has formed in front of him, blocking him from stepping on the stairs.
"Tell him to make this stop," Rhysand warns Cassian, who simply nods in response.
"Why does the Shadowsinger, not want the High Lord up here?" I inquire with the Commander, wondering what is going on between the brothers.
"There was an argument, and now the shadows do not allow Rhysand up here. When he tried to winnow up here, they bound themselves to his eyes, blinding him," Cassian explains as we walk down the hallway of doors, all of them hiding different bedrooms.
We stop at the end, where two doors sit in front of each other, Cassian walks to the one on the right. The door is already open, and as we walk in the first that greets me are the many shadows covering the floors and walls. Which means that they also hide their master, who stands directly to the left of the wall, pressed up against it and hidden in his shadows.
"Oh boy!" I say, lifting my hand to my heart beating heart, as I take in the male - or at least what I can see of him. The area around his eyes are purple, the scruff of his beard long and so is his hair. While most of his body is covered in shadows, I observe how his leathers fits loosely on his body and his cheeks are sunken in.
"What has happened to you?" I ask, concerned for the male before me, that I have now known for so many centuries, and cared for more than I can count.
Instead of answering me, he nods towards the bed, where I take notice of a motionless figure lying beneath the sheets. As I move closer, it becomes clear that it is a young woman laid out before me. She is wearing what looks to be a long white tunic that covers her from head to toe. From what I can tell, she seems far too small for the average female fae. Her beauty is undeniable; her features are delicate and different type of beauty over her features. However, what truly captures my attention is the wings that lie beneath her. Folded tightly against her back, they take on a blurry shape, yet the colour is still clear - a shining translucence with intricate black veining. It's an uncharacteristic sight for any fae creature, and I can't help but be fascinated by them.
"Who is she?" I ask, turning around to get a better look at the two men behind me.
"That we can not tell you," Cassian responds, accompanied by a subtle shrug of his shoulders and folding his arms behind his back.
I press further with my inquiry, asking instead "then what is she?"
His reply was simple: "That we don't know." He lets out a long breath of air in frustration over the situation.
"Then tell me of how you found her, help me understand so that I can treat her," I turn to the Shadowsinger, who has kept his gaze on the female.
"The High Lord has commanded us not to," Cassian speaks through clenched teeths.
I too turn my gaze upon her, and notice how the light glints off a shimmering bracelet around her wrist. My arm stretches out towards her, almost touching the edges of her sleeve. Just as I'm about to make contact, the shadows in the room seem to swell and consume us all - rendering us temporarily immobile.
I turn to look back at the Shadowsinger, Cassian, whose warning tone is clear when he utters his brother's name – "Az." His eyes are fixed on my hand and the female's and I involuntarily lower my hands away from her skin of my own accord. Still watching him, I reach out again and firmly clasp her hand in both of mine; an unspoken promise that she will be protected for as long as she needs me here.
Startled, I turn to the woman, my skin feeling icy and unnatural at her touch. It's a chill unlike any winter breeze; my body recoils in shock. My eyes are drawn downwards towards her wrists where golden cuffs now reside snugly around her skin. The magical energy emanating from them is palpable, and I find myself transfixed by their meaning, desperate to understand why she wears them. They are so intricately crafted and beautifully designed.
"What are these?" I ask, sensing the darkness behind these.
"Ensuring our safety," Cassian again speaks up.
"They are dark magic, they are possibly draining her," I reply back with a grimace, my eyes darting between the two men in front of me. Azriel whips his head towards his brother, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The darkness around us seems to seep into the light, causing it to fade until it has been swallowed by the shadows.
My tone is stern as I uttered my demand that the two men leave and call for Emerie to join us. Regardless of who or what this female is, no female would want two unknown males to witness her being examined without her consent. It is more than enough for a strange female to do so, let alone male, to have access to her body in such an intimate way. She deserves respect and privacy and should be able to choose who gets close enough to make such observations. This is not something she can currently, but I will assure she at least gets treated by another female, with no males eyeing her body.
Cassian turns around in the door, but Azriel stays standing.
"I will not give you another warning," I threaten him, releasing a surge of my magical energy. Though I may be no match for his physical strength and magical prowess, the message is clear. He stares at me intensely before turning to leave, despite having to lower his head slightly as he passes through the doorway due to its small size. Even though he could easily overpower me with one swift movement or wave of magic energy, he is leaving at my bidding - the male always bending to my wishes.
As I turn to the female, I look closer to the golden bands. The skin around then is slightly pulled, which proves the discomfort they must give.
"You asked for me," Emerie's voice cuts through the silence of the room, shaking me from my concentration on the wrist cuffs. I turn my attention to her and am immediately struck by her presence. She stands in the doorway with a proud stature, hands clasped behind her back like a warrior and shoulders thrust back as if to emphasise that she is ready for any task she is presented with. Her wings are stretched high and wide, standing up tall like a true Illyrian warrior.
"I need your help with her," I order, nodding towards the female.
Emerie steps confidently into the room, scanning the area before making her way to the other side of the bed. Her gaze tightens as she looks down at the female lying beneath her.
"Do you think she is a threat?" Emerie says as she studies the female.
"Right now, she is simply just another female in need of our help" I respond with instead.
Emerie looks up at me and it is not the soldier standing before me, but just another female. She nods while looking down at the female before eyes.
"What will you have me do?"
"Let me get you a pair of scissors, and then we will cut her clothes off. I need to check to see if there are any wounds underneath her clothes," I say, as I walk to the medical bag Cassian had left at the doorway. The old brown leather feels so familiar under my hands, as I open it up to grab two pairs of scissors.
I lean over the female to extend one to Emerie, who grasps it tightly.
"It is not a weapon, girl," I say to her, as I lift the female's hand up. I begin to cut open the sleeve to her neck, and before me I watch Emerie follow suit. As more of her skin is revealed, so are tattoos of different inscriptions. I look over to Emerie, whose arm prevail the same identical ones. Some are symbols, unknown to me, others flowers, trees, mountains or simple swirls.
I then move the bottom of her dress, cutting a straight line up her body, revealing more of her body. Legs covered in tattoos, hips and stomach, her body is painted - yet not so much that she is completely covered. Much of her skin is still visible.
Taking a close look at her body, I detect nothing abnormal on her body. I make a gesture for Emerie to help me turn to her side. It is a difficult task with her wings, but in the end without touching them more than a handful of times, I manage to get a clear look of her backside. Tattoos are here as well but no wounds.
"Good, good," I mumble out, as I take some incense from my bag. A bundle, with lavender, sea buckthorn leaves and other various healing plants.
"Make sure to keep this lit at all times," I say to Emerie who simply nods in response.
Walking to the top of the bed, I lean over the female to grasp both sides of the female's head. There I put my hands against her temples, before I close my eyes to focus on her. I send a wave of power through the female trying to detect, if anything is wrong with the female internally.
________
Emerie:
As Madja places her hands on the mysterious female's temple, I can't help but worry for the healer. Rhysand may wish to keep the identity of this woman a secret, but it is important that Madja knows who she is helping - both for her own safety and so that she can provide better treatment. I take the sheet in my hands and gently bring it up so that it covers her body again, watching as she slowly sinks back out of sight. It's difficult not to think of the female as fragile as the next fae, but from what little we know about her, it would seem she very well could be a wolf in sheep's clothing.
The seconds drag by as I wait with bated breath, prepared to take action should something go wrong with Madja. All I can do is observe, and I watch as she presses her eyebrows together in frustration before reluctantly releasing the female head and opening her eyes.
"Nothing, I can not feel her," Madja says as she moves to stand back on the floor.
"What do you mean?" I am confused.
"I can't feel anything from the female, it is as if she is not here at all,"
"Is she dead?" I ask, just as I do a loud bang can be heard from downstairs.
"I don't believe so, because of the overpowering smell of dark magic that lingers close to her skin-" But before Madja can give any further explanation, a sharp female gasp is heard. We both quickly turn our heads to the side and observe the female as she leans over the edge of the bed. She begins to cough frantically, gasping for air before a strangled sound erupts from her throat. Madja quickly runs to the woman's side, and I observe with horror as she expels a dark black liquid from her mouth. The vomiting is relentless, and it seems like there is no end in sight.
It all goes by in a blur, and before Madja even has time to react Azriel is in the room looking as panicked as I feel. Immediately following him Amren and Rhysand enter into the room, with Cassian not too far behind them. I can hear his footsteps thundering up the stairs. We're all here now, ready to face whatever comes at us next.
"Don't just stand there," Amren yells, as she rushes onto the bed, while pushing past Azriel, who takes a step back from the scene before us.
The female eventually ceases her retching after a few more rounds, and soon her body goes limp as Madja supports her from the front, ensuring that she does not fall into the pool of vomit. As if on autopilot, I suddenly feel my own limbs springing into action and I jostle past Rhysand who stands with a dagger in one hand. Working together with Amren and Madja, we manage to haul the female back to bed where she lies on her back.
"What-," Cassian stammers in disbelief, as we take in the sight of the woman quivering before us. Her whole body is shaking, and a thick black substance begins to gush from her ears, mouth, nose and eyes. It's a horrible sight to behold; the oozing liquid runs down her skin like a river of tar. We watch her hopelessly as she continues to shake faster and faster, seemingly unable to control the tremors.
"Grab her!" Madja orders sharply, and in an instant we all act. Amren grasps one arm, while I take hold of the other. Madja moves closer to her head to disorient her, Cassian skilfully lifts both feet up off the ground and Azriel cunningly secures both of her hips with his hands. We manage to restrain her tightly, moving swiftly yet carefully as not to hurt or harm this person who we have captured.
"What is going on?" I question, my eyes directed towards Amren and Madja as we all regard the figure of the woman, her body trembling in fear and shock from beneath our hands. She gulps down air as if trying to breath under water.
Instead of responding, Amren releases her grip on the woman's face with one hand and uses her finger to swipe away some of the inky black liquid dripping down her cheek. Almost before anyone can take action, she brings her finger to her mouth and licks off the thick residue. It's a shocking move, but Amren does not flinch or show signs of shock.
"Amren," Rhysand growls out from behind me, although he hasn't taken any action to move closer to the cruel scene playing out before him. His shoulders are tense, his hand curled into a fist by his side; I know he's conflicted. He wants to intervene but is not willing to put himself in harm's way for the stranger.
Amren does not answer, instead her gaze lifts to the horizon, her eyes glowing with a hint of their old gold hue. A remnant of the power that once rested within her body remained in these strange and vibrant irises; a reminder of all that had been taken away from her. Despite this, she still kept an internal strength that seemed to overpower anything else.
She makes the statement that "dark magic indeed, but not hers... I have tasted it before, but I can't point to when," as her eyes drift shut and her shoulders give a slight shudder. She has faced this force once before and knows only too well the destructive power it carries. Even though she cannot put a finger on when this happened, she clearly still remembers its overwhelming presence.
After some tense minutes, the torrent of liquid finally stops flowing from her body and the trembling and convulsions subside. Eventually a soft gasp escapes from her lips as she relaxes further into a deep, steady rhythm of breathing. We all collectively take a step back from her body as the atmosphere in the room begins to lighten. There is still an air of caution surrounding us but we all know that this ordeal has come to an end; for now at least.
Madja slowly turns around, her dark gaze directed at Rhysand as she says ominously, "I will clean her up, check her over again and then you had better explain yourself, High Lord." He watches silently for a moment before nodding in agreement and sheathing his dagger back into its holster. As the males begin to leave the room, Cassian carefully holds his hand onto Azriel's shoulders to offer him support after all that had happened. A support Azriel is only willing to let his brother give, in the rarest of moments.
________
Madja:
"And that is pretty much all we know," Rhysand replies as he swivels the glass in his hands. Together, the small group of fae has explained to me the latest events - or at least, what they knew about why there was a strange woman up in their quarters. None seemed to possess any additional information beyond what they had already shared with me. Or at least they are not willing to tell me anymore, as Emerie more than once looked to Rhysand, when he would perhaps skip over a detail.
"Well," I start to say, only to stop myself in mid-sentence before I can finish. What was I even about to suggest? A strange figure - a female - is upstairs somewhere, holding all the supposed answers as to why the High Lady and the land are facing such difficulties. There's a sense of trepidations swirling around me, a feeling of unease that is hard for me to ignore. Even if this female provides us with solutions, there's still the question of if she will prove to be a danger.
I take a swig of the brown liquid in my glass, sighing as I ask Rhysand why his time on the throne had seemingly been the most trying. He chuckles softly with no humour in response and takes his own sip from his glass.
"No idea at all," He says as he rests his head back against the headrest of the couch. The living room is much emptier than it used to be, creating an awkward space where both Azriel and Cassian are left standing; one behind the couch and another in his usual dark corner.
"You must have been hell in another life," Amren murmured, shooting a look at Rhysand. Around the living room, murmurs of agreement can be heard in response to her statement. Rhysand sends us all a look of warning but his gaze lingers on Amren in particular. We know that she was pushing the boundaries and dared to speak what we all thought but wouldn't dare say out loud. Everyone is familiar with Rhysand's temper that has grown over the years in tense situations.
"So what to do with the female now?" I decide to ask the question.
"Amren wishes that I put her into the isle prison and I agree," He says, while eyeing the three Illyrians.
"It's a bad idea," Cassian says, folding his arms across his chest. "You might be able to imprison her, but you can't make her help against her will after she's in there." He shakes his head and sighs, realising the severity of their predicament. It had been a difficult journey to this point and they were no closer to finding a solution than when they started.
Emerie responded with a solemn question, "And torture under the mountain? Which female will help a male with a whip?" Her gaze dropped to her interlocked fingers as if unsure of what type of answer she was expecting. Amren rose from her chair and made her way over to Emerie, offering her a glass of wine as she did so. Emerie stared at it for what felt like an eternity, before finally taking a long gulp. Amren gives Emerie an encouraging nod before she sits back down again.
"Another option?" I ask, while looking at the quiet male in the corner. He steps out of the shadows, while shooting a look to his brother.
"She stays in Velaris," Azriel speaks. In his words, the others all sound different tones of disapproval. In spite of their opposition, I find myself intrigued by his reasoning.
"Explain," I say, while keeping an open mind to his idea. He is the Spymaster and the Shadowsinger, the male would never do anything without it being a calculated move.
"She stays here, where it will be easier to keep an eye on her, learn about her and convince her to help us," Azriel says, while sending me a thankful look, for hearing him out.
"In Velaris? Brother, you must be faint to suggest a plan like that!" Cassian says, while shaking his head wildly.
"His shadows will be able to keep an eye on her and so will he. In fact we can all help," Emerie then speaks up, while sending her mentor a supporting look.
"What do you think?" Rhysand inquires of the female, who had been his closest companion for centuries while he was ruling. Amren has always been there to help guide Rhysand in many decisions and has shown him what it means to be a strong leader. It is no wonder that he turns to her now for advice. Amren doesn't say anything at first, instead just sits quietly and swirls her beverage around the glass. As she takes her time, think about her words.
"Strategically, I would suggest that you turn her into the prison. Even after all the time I have spent there, I still cannot in good conscience recommend sending someone else in my place. But you are the High Lord and not me, so it is ultimately up to you to make this judgement" she finishes with a firmness in her voice as she swallows down the rest of her drink. It's been many years since she has been at those walls, but she can without a doubt see them clearly before her eyes.
Rhysand remains silent for a long moment, sauntering slowly towards the fireplace in the room and standing with his back to us. The flickering embers from the fire cast a warm yellow and orange glow across his face, as he ponders his decision. His expression has become sombre while considering the implications of what he is about to decide. His heavy silence tells us that whatever he decides will have far reaching consequences into the future. Eventually he turns around to face us, his gaze solemn as he looks at Amren.
"At the slightest hint of trouble, she can land herself a spot in the darkest corners of the prison," He says, his gaze shifting to meet Azriel's. "She is your responsibility; any misstep she takes will be on you. I won't risk my mate, this city or its people for whatever notion you have about her," he states firmly, an intense surge of his power filling up the room with palpable energy. I can feel it brushing against his skin, making the basics part of me, ready to bend for the male - should he wish me to do so.
Azriel bowed down to his brother, a sign of respect and deference, saying "Yes, High Lord". This display of obedience was accompanied by a cold feeling in my stomach. It was clear that there was an innate conflict between the two brothers, an unspoken tension that filled the air with a sense of unease. Azriel had been forced into this position by his elder brother's power, but he didn't seem to begrudge it - at least not outwardly. Nevertheless it seems that Rhysand is losing the grip he has over one of his best friends.
"I wish for even the smallest detail," Rhysand states.
"Yes, High Lord," Azriel says again, before he steps back into his shadows and disappears in his own made darkness.
"Well then, I have my mate waiting for me, with a meal ready to be shared together," Cassian says as he claps his hands together in excitement. His face lights up in delight as the thought of spending time with someone dear to him fills his mind. In an instant, he has forgotten the responsibilities of his role as Commander and is now just a male looking forward to an evening with someone special. He moves away from the spot he was standing in and turns towards us.
"Goodbye everyone, Madja," He says with a wave, before he hurries out of the door and back to the warm presence of his head-strong female.
"We must go as well," Amren says, as she points to Emerie who too stands from her seat.
"Thank you for your time," Amren says to me, and bows her head in gratitude. Then she grasps Emerie who sends me a small wave, before both females have winnowed away.
I then turn my head to meet Rhysand's gaze, arching an eyebrow with a look that lets him know he will never intimidate me. After all, I had been the one to patch-up his bruised knees and nurse his sore throats when he was still a child. No matter how powerful he may be, I won't let him forget that. He may be High Lord now, but deep down he is still the same person I knew all those years before.
"Go to your mate, Rhysand," I say, while folding my own arms over my chest. He will soon realise that my old age will make me far more stubborn than any female he has ever met.
Rhysand sends me a bored look but in the end he decides to go along with my wishes. He bows his head slightly as a gesture of agreement, before turning and walking away from us in an ethereal mist that is deep and dark - the colour of night-skies.
Then the only sound permeating the room is from my own shallow breathing and the crackling embers of the fireplace. Had I not been informed of his presence, I would have never guessed that there was another living being in this space with me. The silence was edged with anticipation as I waited, striving to sense any movement from where he had announced himself to be stationed.
"Come out of the shadows, my boy," I say as I make myself more comfortable in the worn and cosy armchair. It is soft and inviting, just like all great chairs should be - it has been filled to perfection and moulds perfectly to your body.
I can't help but take note of the male figure stepping out of the shadows and into the low light, settling into a seated position directly across from me. He wears a mask of indifference, his features void of any hint of emotion as he stares back at me silently. I can tell that his mask is well-crafted and almost perfect; with practised ease he's able to control the amount of information that I can obtain simply by looking at him. He does this on purpose so that I'm left with only questions in my mind.
"You are not well," I start with, knowing that a male like him is bound to put his health at last.
"I have no wounds," He responds carefully.
"Not from the outside, perhaps, but you know what I'm talking about," I say, placing my glass carefully down on the table beside me. An unfinished game of chess lay there as well; judging by absence of dust it must have been played not too long ago. I take a moment to admire the pieces left in their unending yet silent battle before continuing.
Azriel does not comment on my statement, but the flickers of his shadows proves that he does feel affected by my words.
"It's been a while since you've seen your mother, she misses you," I say. My words are met with a clear reaction from him, as he hangs his head in guilt.
"I send her letters,"
"The same ones over and over again, yet the words has just been put together differently,"
"What do you wish from me?"
"For you to seek out help," I plead. My answer seems to shake him, as he runs a hand up over his forehead, pushing the curls back from his tired eyes: "What shall I tell your mother, the next time that I see her?"
"That I am well,"
"Do not ask of me to lie,"
"Then tell her nothing,"
I decide to take a momentary break from the conversation, knowing that he is not yet ready to confront what worries him. After taking a few deep breaths, I reflect on the circumstances in which we find ourselves.
"Then tell me about the female," I turn the conversation around instead, not wishing to cause more trouble at this moment.
"There is nothing to tell," He says, but his voice wavers as he huffs out a breath of air. One can almost sense the unease in his demeanour, and it's clear that he is attempting to reassure himself more than me with his words. There is something that he's not telling me, and I feel like I should press him on the matter but for some reason I don't. Perhaps it's out of respect for his privacy or simply a fear of
"Oh? Is that so? Since when did you stop being honest with yourself?" I push at him.
"What do you know?" He asks as he eyes me up and down in suspension.
"Nothing. Nothing... It's just not every day that you come across a female like this," I persist, prodding him to open up and express his feelings about it. He still maintains his composed expression, but I can tell there's something bubbling beneath the surface.
"What game are you trying to play?"
"Azriel, please look me in the eyes and tell me that she is just another female." I lock my gaze with his, and wait for a response. But he remains silent, not uttering a single word in opposition to my claim. It seems as if he has given up trying to change my mind, and that is worryingly, since it is not easy to win over the Spymaster.
"What is it with you, and these homeless girls? First the middle sister and then the priestess," I sigh out, while shaking my head at the boy.
"This is different," He responds with, while clenching his hands to his side.
"How so? Explain, Azriel," I say, desperate to learn more.
I met Azriel when he was a young child, only a few years old. I had been on my travels as an apprentice around the Night Court and his mother implored me to wait for two days until she could arrange for her son to visit. I was confused by her request but obliged all the same, not wanting to pry further into the matter. Then she emerged in front of my tent, a fragile and broken little boy with large wings that trailed behind him. He was injured, caked in dirt and malnourished, so I did my best with the limited resources I had to tend to his wounds. By the end of it all, the boy had drifted off into a peaceful slumber in his mother's arms as she watched over him with an intense yearning and protectiveness. A year later I was back, and was greeted by his hand that was reaking of infections. Since then I have kept in contact with Azriel's mother, and can now call her one of my oldest friends.
"There is a... pull," He slowly speaks, as he looks into the embers.
I look shocked at him: "Do you know what that possibly can mean?" I question him in a whisper.
"Nothing.. We do not know who or what she is. I don't even know what this pull is, it could be a completely different kind of magic," He stares at me with a familiar look of detachment on his face as he speaks.
I look at the male before me, but in my mind's eye I can still see the young boy that used to be. The same person, yet now so different; no longer innocent and pure in heart as he was before. I can't help but feel a twinge of sorrow when I think back to how carefree and playful he could have been, before life had begun to take its toll on him.
"Oh how I hope you are wrong, this is far from nothing," I warn him, as I let out a laugh. Together we sit and watch as the embers go out in the fire, before I leave the little boy back in the darkness.
I hope he will sleep tonight, it seems he will need it for the future.
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Two chapters so posted so close together? Pls notice it!
A much longer chapter than usual. I thought about splitting it up into two pages, since it is so long - but at the same time, it is almost all one big scene... So for now it is one, but it might be split into two.