Disclaimer: All but Lyra belong to Sarah J Maas

Azriel dreamed of darkness, deep, hollow, never ending. It surrounded him, closing in like it had all those years ago. It drew in around him, swallowing him whole. And he could do nothing to stop it. Because it's all there was.

He woke with a start and for a moment, as he stared up at the inky black, he wondered if he hadn't been dreaming. But then his eyes adjusted and he saw the moonlight, shinning through the window and illuminating the room in a soft glow. The light steadied his heart, calmed him. He wasn't in that basement anymore. He was in Valaris. He was home.

The pain hit him as he calmed, a deep, burning ache in his chest and on his wing. He pulled his hand up, running along the bare skin of his chest toward where he remembered that arrow hitting. It was covered in bandages now, thick and he smelled salve over the wound.

"Try not to move."

Azriel looked over, softening a bit when he caught sight of Mor in the darkness, blinking at him sleepily from a chair next to his bed. She leaned up from the cushioned seat, worrying flickering in her warm brown eyes as she looked him over. "Does it hurt? Madja left some tonic for the pain. I'll get it."

"I'm fine." He assured her, which stilled her as she drew up from the chair. She sank back in it, looking exhausted and worn. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Mor answered, though the words were hollow, pained. "But Cassian…."

Azriel felt a flicker of fear, the memory of those shredded wings flashing before him. If they could not fix them, if Cassian could no longer fly… he was sure his brother would rather have been dead. "His wings." Azriel croaked, alarm growing as he began to lean up, trying to rise. Mor stood then, quickly pressing her warm hands against his chest.

"There is nothing you can do." She said, her voice taking on a firm edge as she continued to push him down. "You're barely healed yourself. Madja is still working on him. It's long and complex but she thinks…. She thinks she can fix it."

The words calmed him a bit and he sighed as he settled back into the bed. Mor still looked unsettled though, even as she tried her best to look calm for his sake. "What-"

He paused, something flickering in his chest and he felt a sudden rush of fear, though it felt… distant. Like it wasn't his own. He cocked his head, the shadows swirling and curling around his ears. New. Made. She is Made. They whispered, a soft sigh against his ear.

"The female…. The one from the Cauldron." He whispered, closing his eyes as that pale, terrified face flashed before his eyes. She had calmed when she saw him though, those unnatural, white blue eyes meeting his, panting and shaking with her strawberry blonde hair plastered to her face. Had smiled at him, even though she was terrified.

'You' She had whispered.

Mor shifted, frowning at the mention of the female. "Still comatose." She answered, brushing her hair back as she sighed tiredly. "She is…"

"Made." Azriel finished, though he wasn't sure how he knew. He had not seen her go into the Cauldron as the Archeron sisters did. She had emerged from it, like she had been pulled from the depths of… somewhere else.

"Ameren says she was Made. But she's… different. Different even from Nesta." Mor whispered, her brows furrowing and a frown pulling her full lips downward. "And Hybern, he said he pulled her from somewhere… else."

Azriel frowned as well, shadows twisting and hissing in his ears. He wanted to reach out, to try to find the strange female where she rested in the house. Something made him want to see her, to take her in fully. He needed it.

"Somewhere else." He repeated, his scarred fingers running over his rips as he remembered that ache, that pull he had felt when the Cauldron's power had flowed through him. Like something had pulled him or he had pulled something… someone? "She knew me."

"What do you mean?" Mor asked, watching him with those brown, kind eyes.

"When I pulled her from Jurian, she recognized me." Azriel muttered, his fingers curling in the sheets. "She looked as though she knew me."

Mor's lips pursed, something flickering over her face as she slowly leaned back in the chair. He could see her working through this information, trying to figure out what it meant. He watched her, his eyes roaming over her worried face. After several beats of silence, Mor just sighed, shaking her head. "Rest, Az. We will work it out in the morning."

Her fingers touched his arm, light and warm and he felt that familiar flutter at her touch. He reached out slowly, cautiously as he lay his own fingers over hers. She kept her fingers there, allowing him to keep hold of that warmth in a way she so rarely did. He felt that familiar, slight happiness from the small touch but…

It felt different, less. He pondered why as he slowly succumbed to sleep.

"Wrong… she is different…"

The voice was distant, like someone speaking to her down a long tunnel. Lyra felt them, the figures standing over her but not in the way you felt someone near her. Felt their warmth or heard their shuffling. No, she felt their power, felt it beneath their skin.

Power, pure power prowling beneath something small. Darkness, smooth pure energy next to it. She felt it all.

"….came from it." The Darkness whispered, moving closer. She felt the inky blackness of that power brush against her, skitter along her body and mind. "Could he? … Another world."

That other power drew closer and she could feel it just above her, hovering, watching. She wanted to push against it, to get it away, far away, but she could not move. Her body would not listen, would not cooperate. So, she suffered under the weight of that power above her, like a lion watching its prey. "I do not know." That power whispered, it's voice sharp and female. "Do you feel her? Feel that fight?"

"Yes." The Darkness answered, running along her, testing, probing. She pushed it back, shut it out and then she was lost to the world again.

Hours, days, maybe years later, she became aware again. She was still frozen, her body seeming to fight against her attempts to make it move. It was like when someone was in that half sleep, half-awake state and she hated it. At least when she was burning, she could still move and had some control over herself.

Something moved near her and she registered that someone was in the room with her again. It wasn't the same two from before, but they were equally as powerful. Different power, but just as deadly. But it didn't cause her fear. It felt steady, settling. It drew her out and seemed to call to her.

Her fingers twitched, the first movement she was able to make and she felt elation at the tiny bit of progress. Wake up, she urged herself. Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up, wakeupwakeupwakeup.

She jerked up, her body screaming in protest at her sudden movement. Her whole body ached, her skin raw and sensitive. She hissed as her eyes opened, the light nearly blinding her and she quickly snapped her eyes shut again, her shaking hands pressing against her eyes to block out that light.

"Lay back down. You are still unwell."

She flinched away from the voice, surprising her when they lay a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed against her. She blinked, that light still stinging her eyes but she was able to focus, to finally take in the figure that was hovering over her.

It was him. That figure from her dreams, the man who had helped her in that horrible room.

Everything came back to her then. The pain, emerging from that water, the crazed man who had tried to grab her. And him. His face as he looked back at her.

She had been kidnapped. It was the only explanation for everything that had occurred, though she didn't understand what that man could have done to her to make her experience that awful pain. Perhaps she didn't want to know. And now… now she didn't know where she was. It certainly didn't look like a hospital. The room was clearly a bedroom, large and expansive. It was at least half the size of her apartment alone.

She panted, letting that hand guide her back down against the pillows and blankets that surrounded her. He withdrew his hand and she caught sight of it, took in the crossed and warped scars that marred the skin. She felt a twist of pain in her gut at the sight, the memory of her own scars along her legs flashing before her eyes. She tried to push it away.

He was watching her with those amber eyes, his face blank and unfeeling. She took in his face fully then, admiring the sharp cheekbones, the tan skin, the black hair. She was so distracted by taking in all the features of his face that she almost missed something shifting behind him.

Wings. Massive, leathery wings shifted behind him. For a moment she could not understand where they originated from, couldn't put together or understand how they could possibly be moving and flowing like that behind him.

He had wings. Real, bat like wings.

It had to be a trick. Some kind of costume or… she didn't know, but she knew there was no way they were real. Why would he be with them though, in her not-hospital room. She sucked in a deep breathe as she closed her eyes and tried to understand what could possibly be happening. But nothing made sense, no scenario she thought up for any of it did. She felt the panic begin to rise in her, the familiar feeling of an attack growing in her.

"Breathe."

His voice was steady and it drew her momentarily out of her panic. She looked over at him again, meeting those amber eyes and she felt herself steady a bit at the calming look on his face.

But then one of his large, thick wings moved behind him, spreading a bit as he leaned closer to her and she felt that flutter of panic again. He tilted his head as though he could feel it and shadows danced just around the edge of his shirt.

"What are you?" She whispered, her voice hoarse and rough. His brow furrowed at the question, as though he didn't understand it.

The door opened behind him and even before he breezed into the room, she felt him again. That dark power, rumbling within him, lining his very soul. He was handsome, so handsome that it seemed unnatural with his tan skin, violet eyes and blue-black hair. The woman that followed him was the same, maybe even more so, with her curves and flowing blonde hair.

The power brushed against her again, she felt it slither along her though the man looked perfectly at ease as he stopped just behind the winged man.

She was losing it. Going insane. These feelings, things she could sense… they couldn't be real.

"Please stop." She whispered, more to herself then the people in the room and she pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to shut them out and calm herself. None of this made sense. What was happening?

"It's okay." The woman said, her voice steady and Lyra felt a gentle hand lay against her shoulder. "You are safe now."

Lyra couldn't stop the slightly crazed laughter that bubbled from her throat at the words. Safe. She wasn't safe with all that prowled beneath the man's skin. She wasn't safe when she was losing her own mind. "No one in this room is safe." She whispered, withdrawing her hands to take in the woman looming above her, a bit of confusion on her face.

"What do you mean?" The powerful one asked, tilting his head a bit at her. Studying her with those intelligent, quick eyes.

But she just shook her head, another laugh leaving her and he saw worry cross the winged one's face as well as he shifted, moving just slightly closer to her. "It doesn't matter. None of this can possibly be real."

"Why?" The man pushed and she saw the winged man give him a slightly sharp look she didn't understand.

"What do you mean why? He has wings." Lyra answered, her voice sounding slightly hysterical as she nodded toward him. He shifted a bit under her gaze, and she saw those shadows move around him again, sliding and skittering along his skin, seeming to rise to watch her. "I can feel all that under your skin." She continued, looking toward the other man. His brow furrowed at the words, calculating, studying. "I could feel the other one too, from before. She was…" She trailed off, shaking her head as words failed to describe what that woman felt like. That suffocating, terrifying power.

"Ameren often has that effect on people." The blonde whispered, flashing a kind smile to Lyra when she looked back at her. Despite Lyra's panic, she recognized the kindness, was soothed just a bit by the warmth of the woman. It kept the fear at bay, stopped it from rising enough to send her spiraling completely into a panic attack. "I'm Morrigan. But you can call me Mor. This is Azriel and Rhysand."

Azriel. The one from her dream. The one she had felt called too.

"What is your name?" Mor asked, laying a steady hand on her shoulder again.

"Lyra." She answered, keeping her gaze on the beautiful blonde, trying to focus on just her, her hand, her warmth and block out the others. All these things that made no sense.

But she felt Azriel move again at her name. She was so aware of him, more then even the powerful one and it made her feel unsteady.

"Lyra." Mor repeated, her red lips turning up in a kind smile. "Good. Can you tell me where you come from? What you remember?"

"I'm from… from Boulden, Indiana. The last thing I remember I came home from school and… and just went to bed. But then I heard…"

I see you.

She shuddered when she remembered the sound of that voice. It was awful, even just from her memory. Like madness and rage and pleasure given a voice. "It said it saw me." She whispered, her fingers clenching around the blanket.

"The Book." Rhysand said, his hands slipping into the pocket of his black pants and despite his eased stance, the words made his face twist a bit. "It's been…. Hissing about her since we brought it back."

"A book?" Lyra asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

"What else do you remember?" Mor pushed, drawing her attention back to her.

"I felt like I was drowning. It was all black and it burned. It hurt so bad." She shook, remembering that pain seeping into her skin, into her very soul. "And then I felt… felt like I was being pulled. Something… this cord pulled me out and then I was in that room. That man was there and…"

She looked to Azriel, blushing as she remembered him covering her nakedness. But he didn't seem to be thinking of the same things. He looked confused, his scarred hand rubbing at a place just below his ribs. The same spot she had felt pulled from…

"Where am I now?" She asked, looking back at Mor.

"I think you're in a whole different world then where you were." Rhysand said before Mor could offer more comforting words to her. The blonde gave him a glare at the words, but he kept his face smooth, easy, as though what he had just said wasn't completely insane.

"Another world…" She repeated, staring into his violet eyes, searching for some sign he was joking or trying to trick her. Because it was insanity, what he was suggesting. When his face remained smooth, sincere she let out another laugh, looking up to the ceiling. "What the fuck is happening?" She whispered.

"I am sorry, Lyra." Rhysand said and she heard what seemed like genuine sincerity in his voice. Saw just a bit of it in his face when she looked back toward him. "You're a victim to Hybern's insanity and I am sorry for that. And I don't know any other way to tell you the truth of what is happening."

"That can't be the truth." She hissed, giving him a glare, even as he gave her that gentle look. "Things like this don't happen. This isn't Harry Potter, it's my life."

"The King of Hybern said you were an experiment, to see how far he could get." Rhysand continued, his voice a bit kinder. "He has a book of spells and I think he tried to get to another world with the Cauldron, what you came out of. I think that spell pulled you out of yours and brought you here."

"Magic isn't real." She said automatically, her voice thin. But as she said the words she looked back at Azriel, those massive wings, the shadows moving along his skin as though they had a mind of their own. He stared back, kindness and sympathy in his own eyes as he saw her struggle with what this man was saying.

Rhysand started to speak again, but Azriel gave him another sharp look, his eyes losing that warmth he held when he looked at her. Rhysand seemed to sense the change in his companion, and he looked over at him, meeting his gaze. Something seemed to pass between them, Azriel holding him with that cold stare and something about it seemed to confuse Rhysand. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes just a bit as they continued to stare at each other. After a moment Azriel looked away, some unspoken argument settled between the two and he stood.

"You need to rest." Mor said, seeming to understand the odd exchange between the two. "I can stay and answer questions, but you should try to sleep some more. I can give you a tonic to help you sleep if you need it."

Lyra blinked, confused a bit by the sudden change and she felt a bit of anger. To drop a bomb like magic and other worlds, then try to force her into sleep. "I don't want sleep. I want this all to make sense." She snapped, earning a sad look from Mor as she glanced back at the other two. "I don't even know where I am. Or who you people are."

"You are in the Night Court of Prythian." Mor answered, voice smooth and gentle, as though she was talking to a hysterical child. Between that and the words, places that sparked no recognition whatsoever, Lyra felt her anger begin to rise. And her helplessness. Because none of their words were helping to sooth her panic or make anything make sense. "Rhysand is the High Lord. Azriel is his spymaster, and I am his third."

Lyra closed her eyes at the words, her fists clenching around the sheets. None of this was helping. It was only making everything worse. Mor seemed to be genuinely trying to help, seemed to be sincere in her kindness, but with everything she said it only made her fear grow. Because she understood none of it and it was either some elaborate trick, some form of mental torture or what they were saying was real. Lyra couldn't accept the latter.

"Please leave." Lyra whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking as she opened her eyes again. She didn't look at them, just stared at the ceiling, the slant of light shining there. Maybe if she pretended enough, she could fool herself into thinking it was the ceiling of her apartment.

"Lyra-" Azriel said, his cool voice laced with a bit of worry.

"Please get out." She insisted, tears pricking at her eyes. She took a deep breathe, trying to keep the tears at bay until she was alone. She didn't want to cry in front of them, these beautiful, inhuman strangers.

She heard shifting, shuffling as they seemed to head for the door. "We will be near if you need something." Mor whispered. "Let us know if you do."

Lyra didn't say anything back, just focused on that slant of light, the dust twirling and drifting through the air above her as she gripped the blankets so tight her knuckles were turning white. After several torturous seconds, the door finally clicked shut and she let out a sob.