And all the fears you hold so dear will turn to whisper in your ear.
~)(~
I punched Azriel in the jaw. I punched him hard. The crack was audible. Blood splattered the ground as he fell, so unprepared that his shadows weren't even fast enough to catch him.
I didn't stop there, not at all. Before he could regain himself, I climbed on top of him, locking him beneath me, and started punching him in the face as fast as I could to keep him from healing in time. His blood and my own painted my knuckles, and I think I even felt a tear roll down my cheek.
Soon enough, though, I felt someone's arms under my shoulders and Cassian lifted me off the shadowsinger while calling my name. Only, I didn't hear him. I heard nothing but the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my heart. I struggled against him, squirmed, and kicked to get out of his grasp so I could see Azriel bleed more.
The shadowsinger stood slowly, rubbing his bloodied jaw before he straightened himself and glared at me. Blood dripped down his chin onto his black leathers, but his healing had already fixed the damage my fists caused.
Within seconds, Cassian had let go of me and said, "On second thought, you two can work this out on your own."
As soon as Cassian let go of me, I swung my blade with all the force I could. The air cut with a whistle and then a screech as metal met metal. He managed to grab his hunting dagger for defense just in time to prevent me from splitting his head in two.
I wanted him dead. For all the torment he caused me, all the suffering I went through because he was just a coward. I wanted to kill—because it was the only thing I could control in this pitiful excuse of a life.
His eyes were hollow with darkness, his lips a firm but trembling line. The darkness swirled around him in a heap of fury. Yet they didn't touch me once. And I could feel the fire in my blood, the scorching pulse as veins lit up and skin heated.
The shadowsinger slid my blade along his so fast that I didn't have time to stop pushing, and the tip of the sword stabbed the dirt next to his foot. Before I could swing back up again, he grabbed my arms from behind and tried prying my fingers open.
Fear gripped my body in an embrace, tight enough to suffocate. I couldn't breathe with his arms wrapped around me. Fear overcame my senses, drove out all morals and reason, and cut through the rational and calculated. Like a fire, it burned through me on instinct and boiled under my skin.
Fear was my only weakness. Fear made me numb, empty, hopeless. And in that moment, he made me afraid.
I kicked and screamed, scratched and bucked like a wild animal caught in a snare. My legs thrashed and stomped the air as I pushed all my weight backward, my head slamming with hopes of hitting him in the jaw.
At some point, the screams stopped being out of rage, and instead of fear. The thrashing became chaotic and painful. The numb ringing of fear overcame me.
I slammed my heels into the ground and knocked us both to our sides. The shadowsinger let go of me then and I scrambled to my feet before the shadows could catch me themselves. My lungs ached, my throat burned, my eyes were bloodshot, and my face reddened.
I wasn't thinking, just acting. Sometimes you're so caught up in anger and fear that you forget your surroundings. The world becomes a dust cloud, endless and loud, drowning out everything that might try to reach you. A tunnel of red flames lapping at every ounce of oily tears.
I picked up the closest weapon I could, his obsidian-hilted hunting knife. He got back to his feet before I could hit a final blow, but the slash I made when I ran at him sprayed blood from his chest and onto my face.
He didn't seem fazed, but I quickly realized the wound wasn't healing and the blood around the gash was bubbling like acid. It made me falter—what kind of blade was this?
I didn't... like it, not anymore. He wasn't healing.
I hit and fought so hard because I knew he could heal—but this time he didn't. Why did that make me feel so sick?
I wanted him dead... but I didn't at the same time. Did that make me a fool? Did that even make sense? I thought I'd be happy if he dropped dead, but was that the truth?
I faltered, and that was all the shadows needed to pounce on me. I felt silken darkness dance across my body in fluttery waves that cooled off my skin and made me shiver. They were so calculated, so rigid—so different from what I remembered.
Before I could make a move against it, I blacked out. The last thing I remembered was the side of my head hitting the dirt beneath me.
~)(~
I woke with a startle and immediately grabbed the candleholder on the makeshift table to throw at the intruder. It was just Cassian, though I still considered throwing it at him.
My head pounded, making me hiss when I sat up and looked at him. "What? I don't need you chastising me."
He couldn't walk into the tent if he wanted to, not with those wings. So he stood awkwardly and frowned at me. "I was going to... then Jurian fessed everything."
I nodded. Someone had to do it, and I was too afraid to relive it.
"I'm still in trouble though, aren't I?"
"What? No, it was just... very passionate training." I raised a brow and Cassian laughed. "I... I'm not good at this kind of thing—"
"So don't get involved."
"Yeah, but I don't want you killing my brother," Cassian bit.
I dropped my head, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt. Why? I wanted that bastard dead, and yet I was upset about it.
I risked asking, "Is he okay?"
"He's fine, scarred for life—thanks for that."
"He's not healing?"
Cassian shook his head. "That dagger, it's named Truth-Teller. It's magical and... confusing. It's sentient or something, cause he says it's picky about who wields it." He took a deep breath and leaned cautiously on the post my tent hung against. "Illyrians can't heal magic wounds—not perfectly. That's why we train with basic weapons."
I rubbed my forehead and said, "Where's Jurian?"
That made Cassian smile and laugh. "He's pacing like a frightened mother goose. I'll get him for you."
I thanked him and watched him leave, letting the tent flap close again. It was darkness inside, save for the candlelight. I tried to avoid complete darkness when I could. Something about it made me panic.
Perhaps it was because of the endless nightmares of those caves dripping with blood. Or the claustrophobic rooms far from sunlight, able to muffle any sound. Or it was because I knew the darkness held the shadows I never wanted to find me.
I felt eyes staring at me. Over the years, I learned to notice eyes on me, notice when I wasn't alone in a room. I was a hunter, a tracker. If I didn't know my surroundings, I was dead. It was as simple as that.
I inhaled deeply, feeling warm air weigh my lungs before exhaling away all the stiffness in my body. I slumped down and ran a hand through my hair. My mind hurt. I was confused, panicked, frightened, angry, guilty. I was everything I shouldn't be.
And just a week ago I was fine. I was happy with my life, happy with my choices. Everything was normal and going to plan. And then it just shattered in a second.
"I don't understand... anything," I said to the air, knowing my words were heard. "Gods, this is such a mess."
The tent flap opened, and Jurian was standing there looking absolutely fuming. In an instant, that presence behind me disappeared, and I suddenly felt freezing. The space felt too empty, too sterile. Which was impossible since it was my space and shouldn't feel like a medic tent.
I looked up at the human and read the livid expression—he was smoking with anger. "Go on, get it over with."
"You're gonna give me a heart attack, you know that? What were you thinking? You idiot—you fucking fantastic idiot. Gods, that felt so good to see, but what if you actually killed him? Oh Mother, you fucking want me to suffer with the consequences of your actions. Fuck you."
"Fuck you too," I said, smiling wide enough for a canine to show. At this point, curses were just signs of affection, which was weird to everyone else but I was never one for affection, so it wasn't a bother.
Jurian sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed with me and said, "You're gonna get someone killed—if not yourself."
"It'll be better," I blurted. That wasn't supposed to come out—shit.
Jurian smacked me against the head, though it didn't hurt much, since I was fae and he was just a weak human—a rather capable human—but still weak to me. "Stop saying shit like that or I'm dulling your weapons."
"That will definitely get me killed. Can you imagine trying to fight with dull weapons?"
Jurian huffed a laugh and shook his head. There was a beat of silence, like he was waiting for something else, something more. I was afraid to speak, though. If I spoke, my thoughts would become concrete. Real. Permanent.
I didn't like things that overstayed their welcome.
Then, Jurian put his arm around my shoulders and said, "Come on, spit it."
"What?"
"Don't what me. I know you far too well, and you're doing that thing where you want to speak but hold your tongue like an idiot. Not that you aren't an idiot, but still."
I rolled my eyes at him. He tightened his grip on my upper arm, encouraging me. I liked it, the comfort of being held. And I trusted him—far more than I should. But Jurian was there when I most needed it and didn't care one bit about how pathetic I was. He was the closest to... anything. A brother, a father, a mother, a friend who really wanted to punch me for my stupid actions.
I sighed and said, "I'm just... confused."
"About him?"
I nodded. My heart felt heavy in my chest, almost like it didn't fit anymore, didn't belong anymore. "I cut him with a magical knife and he didn't heal. I—something about that makes me so... so panicked."
"You still care," Jurian said simply, shrugging.
"But I shouldn't."
"Rowena, he was your first love, first time, first everything. Of course, there's gonna be a part of you that still cares."
For the first time, I thought about... that. His voice, his scent, his warmth, his addicting touch. Gods, why was I so conflicted?
"But it's been so long, and yet... I feel like—" I couldn't finish.
"Like it was just yesterday?"
I nodded. "And I shouldn't feel that way, right? I hate him—so much. And yet, when I actually hurt him, I felt so guilty about it. And I shouldn't, right?"
"Sometimes I have to remind myself you have the emotional maturity of a teenager." Jurian liked joking in serious times because he got uncomfortable about it, which was valid. So did I.
"Do not," I said, jabbing his ribs. He gave me a look and I huffed. "Maybe a little—just with this stuff."
"Oh my—Cauldron boil and bubble, you—" Jurian choked on a laugh at that.
"What?" I questioned, honestly worried he'd die. Or maybe his brain finally gave up trying.
Jurian stopped himself from keeling over and said, "You've never been with anyone else, have you?"
"What? No, not true. I have," I protested, giving him a confused and angry look.
He shook his head. "Yes, you've slept with others, but have you actually been with others?"
The way he emphasized the word made my throat dry—because, fuck, he read me way too well.
"You haven't," he said after reading my expression. "You still love him."
I breathed a weighted sigh and dropped my head into my hands. Was it wrong? To still hold on to that childish hope? To still wish I could be a child again, with all the fantastical loves that accompany it?
"Can you blame me?" I argued, feeling rather defensive. "It's—he's—I... He abandoned me after promising to stay with me, and I stupidly hoped for so long that he'd come back because no one ever made me feel..." I stopped myself with a sigh and groaned into my hands.
"Fair point," Jurian said, smiling slightly.
I sucked in a shuddering breath as I looked up at him and said, "This is a mess."
"Hey," Jurian said, placing a hand on my back as he leaned closer. "It'll be okay, I promise. And we all know I actually keep my promises."
"Jurian," I warned.
"Right, sorry. What I mean is that you're not alone in this. I'll help you, like I always have."
I sighed. "But you shouldn't. I shouldn't be a burden—"
"You're my closest friend, Rowena. Don't tell Miryam, she doesn't count since I sleep with her," he smiled that stupid, innocent-looking smile I couldn't help but reciprocate.
"What would I do without you?" I said, leaning my head on his shoulder with a weighted sigh.
Jurian pressed his cheek to the top of my head and held me in a sideways hug. "You'd probably die in a matter of days."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you too."
-Authors Note-
hii! I was late to update cause I got super busy with other stuff, including other writing projects that have consumed my daily life (cries)
I've hit a bit of a bump with the plot right now, just in the sense that I don't want to write a particular set of scenes to get from point A to point B. Pray for me and beat me up if I take too long to update cause you guys are my accountability partners in this mess lmao
anyway, I love this chapter for many reasons mostly cause Az decided to pull the lion's tail and got his karma lol. it was fun and I think I have a problem with how much I love writing these kinds of fight scenes.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and let me know your thoughts! Have a great rest of your day/week and I'll see you next chapter!!! thank you for reading!!!