Disclaimer: All but Lyra belong to Sarah J Maas

Lyra hated Cassian. She hated him. She really, really hated him.

She slowly lowered herself into the tub, gritting her teeth as her muscles protested against the movement. She sighed when the heat hit her, relaxing and letting her head loll back. Two weeks of lessons with Cassian had left her aching and in almost constant pain.

Eventually she forced herself to wash her hair and body, using some of the salve that Azriel had gotten her to help with the pain. Who knew Cassian's "basics" would hurt her this much?

Despite her complaining, she actually did enjoy the training that the Illyrian offered her. It had helped her to learn more about what this new body was capable of and she felt more in control of it. It was surprisingly also a good way to settle herself, something she could focus on wholly and forget everything else that was happening to her.

Cassian missed some of her training sessions every once in a while, now declared fully healed and able to go back to helping Rhysand keep his armies – freakin' armies, she knew someone with freakin' armies – ready for the oncoming war. Azriel was also given a clean bill of health and had headed back out to resume his duties as Spymaster. He had been sent to monitor both Hybern and their possible allies, keeping track of where they all stood with each other and whether they were leaning toward backing their enemy.

She had been spending more time back at the townhouse because of it, mostly to hang out with Mor or the twins that had been at the dinner, Carridwan and Nuala. They were quiet, but kind and had been teaching her how to cook. It had been a request done out of boredom, but she had found that she liked it.

Lyra looked over in the bathroom, staring at the mirror that she had finally let Mor put back up. She couldn't see herself at his angle, thankfully. She avoided looking at herself still whenever she could, scared she would end up spiraling, those eyes a reminder of her mysterious powers.

She still hadn't taken Amren up on her offer, despite Azriel's words. She could control it alone, she had convinced herself. She could push it down, learn to ignore the feelings she sensed from others and then forget about it.

Somewhere deep down, she knew she was lying to herself. What happened a couple weeks before had been proof enough…

She shook her head, trying to block out the memory of that vase sailing into the wall, glass and water flying around the room. That had been a mistake, born from her panic and fear from a nightmare. It was one mistake.

Azriel had come at the sound of the shattering, taking in the scene and her huddled on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees and tears in her eyes. He had swept away the remnants of the vase with a sweep of his hands, the pieces seeming to be swallowed by shadows themselves and leaving nothing there. As though it had never happened. After it was gone, he had come toward her, his face worried as he looked her over.

"It's alright." He had whispered, those amber eyes kind. "You're alright."

He had stayed with her until she fell asleep again, sitting silently in a chair next to her bed. A soothing, gentle presence that made her feel comforted as she drifted back to sleep. He was gone in the morning, a note left in the chair telling her that Rhysand had sent him off on another mission.

I'll be back in soon. Don't let Cassian overwork you.

But it was the last part that made her choke up. Five simple words that brought tears to her eyes.

I do not fear you.

A gentle reminder. Words that brought her more comfort than anything else had in this new world. She had kept the note with her, still did, staring at the words sometimes to calm herself when she felt that power churning, prowling.

After the water had grown cold, Lyra forced herself out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. She put on some clothes, patted her curls dry before heading toward the dining room for lunch. Mor was there, a plate of food in front of her and she gave her a bright, lovely smile when she saw her. Lyra returned it, seating herself across from her and a plate dropped in front of her with a twitch of Mor's hand. "Thanks." She said, quickly digging into the plate.

"Have fun with Cassian?" Mor asked, an amused smile on her lips when Lyra winced just reaching for some salt.

"He's kicking my ass." Lyra grumbled, earning a laugh from Mor. "He left for the camps already?"

Mor nodded, frowning as she sighed. "Yes." Mor muttered, pushing her blonde curls away with an annoyed look. "He's still having trouble with them fighting him on the girls training."

Lyra still couldn't understand how Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand had come from the Illyrians. The way Cassian and Azriel had described the people, so backwards and harsh, she couldn't imagine how any of them had emerged from the people. And Cassian still loved them. He ranted and raved about them, sometimes going on for hours at their dinners, but he still loved them deeply. Azriel on the other hand… the Shadowsinger clearly held nothing but contempt for the people. He hadn't told Lyra exactly why, but she often wondered if it had to do with those scars.

"Assholes." Lyra muttered and Mor nodded in agreement. "So, him and Az are gone?"

"Yes, Cassian won't be back until tomorrow. I think Az will be here tonight." Mor said, perking up a bit, which confused Lyra since Mor worried as often as she did for the pair. "So I was thinking if you didn't have anything to do, I could show you the library."

"Like the one… below?" Lyra asked, raising her eyebrows. Mor had told her about both libraries in the house and she hadn't been to either. The smaller, personal one was occupied almost all the time by Nesta, who had made it clear to all that she didn't wish for anyone near her or her sister. Cassian was the one who ventured to see her the most, though he often came back moody and angry. So any books Lyra had gotten from there had been taken by servants, who brought her selections of some of the topics she was interested. The one below… Lyra had been worried about being around that many people, though Cassian had assured her it wasn't as many as she had thought. She still hadn't wanted to push it, so she had stuck to the personal one here.

"Yes. I think you'd like it. And I'd like you to meet the Priestesses." Mor said and Lyra saw emotion swimming in her eyes, thought Lyra didn't understand the look. But Lyra could tell something about this meant something to the blonde.

Lyra felt the fear bubble up in her stomach and she put her hand in her lap so Mor didn't see her dig her fingers into her palm. Mor had done so much for her, had helped her in so many ways. The least she could do was go to some library with her. So, she took a deep breathe, touched that note in her pocket and gave Mor a nod. "Okay." She said, plastering what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face.

"After this, then?" Mor asked, beaming at her. Lyra nodded, though the food she had just eaten set heavy in her stomach now. She tried not to let her nerves show as they continued chatting through the meal.

Mor waved their plates away when they were done, and she looped her arm through Lyra's as they headed toward the stairs that led them to the library. Lyra felt the people inside, that odd sort of buzzing that alerted her to others and the power they held. She tried to focus solely on Mor, on her words as she spoke to her. She could do this, just push it down, just push it deep-

Lyra almost stopped in her tracks when the entered, eyes widening as she took in the massive area. Stacks upon stacks, millions of books going down several level. The levels were dug right into the mountain, spiraling down into a dark hole that went so far she couldn't even see it.

"I know you would like it." Mor teased, squeezing her arm before she brought her toward a tall, slim woman clad in blue robes, the hood casting her face in shadow and what looked like a crown of blue stones around her head. She bowed her head to Mor and Lyra as they drew close, hands clasp together under the robes. "Lyra, this is Clotho. She runs the library and heads the Priestesses here. No one enters the library without her permission."

The woman's head tilted, though she remained silent. Lyra tried to focus on her, ignoring that buzzing that was now pounding in her head. Clotho lifted one of her hands, waving it to bring forth a pen and paper. But Lyra froze, stiffening as she caught sight of the woman's twisted and bent fingers. They had clearly been broken and from the scars that also marred her skin, it was not something that had happened naturally.

Lyra tried to school her features, hoping her shock didn't show on her face. Clotho seemed unfazed though, just waving her hand to send the pen scrawling across the paper. It floated toward Mor, who took it and Lyra glanced at it. Welcome, Lyra. Come for more research, Lady Morrigan?

Broken hands and no speaking. What had happened to this woman?

"Yes." Mor said, offering Clotho a smile. "And I wished to show Lyra the library."

More words scrawled across paper. Let us know if you need assistance. Your books are still in there place.

"Thank you." Mor answered, dipping her head respectfully before pulling Lyra with her further into the library. Clotho ventured away, heading back to work. Lyra couldn't get the picture of those fingers out of her mind, the pain and trauma that had to have come from it. Mor seemed to sense where her mind was, because she reached for her arm again, squeezing. "Clotho and the Priestesses here are in charge of the library completely. When I mean no one enters without their permission, I mean it. This place is theirs, given to them by Rhysand."

"Given?" Lyra asked, that nausea churning in her stomach as she tried to focus on Mor. They headed just a level down, turning toward an area that was secluded with large, cushion chairs around a table that held several books. Mor sat down near a large stack and Lyra took the seat next to her. It wasn't so bad here. She could still feel the different Priestesses, but it was manageable.

"Clotho was abused by several males a couple centuries ago." Mor said, voice low as she looked to Lyra. Lyra felt that churning nausea grow at the words, at their horrible meaning. "They broke her fingers, over and over between healing to ruin them and then cut out her tongue so she could not speak or write their names. When I found her… she was half dead."

Mor's beautiful face twisted with rage and disgust and Lyra felt a flare of that hidden power Rhysand's third held. It was the first time she had felt the true, mammoth amount of power that the usually kind and happy blonde had. "I brought her to Rhys so he could get their names. I hunted them down myself. They never hurt another female again."

Lyra felt a shiver at that bleak, harsh truth. She couldn't say she didn't feel a dark flicker of satisfaction at the words.

"I helped her to heal here in Velaris, in the library. I spent a month down here, just us. All other priestesses here are like her. Found and given a place to heal here, to stay or go back outside." Mor's anger softened just slightly, and Lyra saw her hand move over her lower stomach, brushing against the skin as though itching a phantom pain.

I know that pain.

Mor had been violated like these women, abused by men. She knew their pain. And she had taken it and used it to find others and bring peace. Lyra understood why it had meant so much to her friend that she come here.

"All of them who stay here?" She asked, looking toward the center of the of the library, where a few priestesses in the same blue robes as Clotho roamed the different levels. Lyra could feel them all here, so many women, so much abuse.

"Yes. All of them." Mor answered, a simple, brutal truth. "I wanted to help them. I had to help them. As my family here helped me… after."

And so Mor told her, in that hushed corner of the library about her family, that horrible place she grew up in called the Court of Nightmare's. She told her of being sold off like breeding stock to Autumn High Lord's son Eris and how she couldn't stand the idea of being forced into marriage. She took back her own life by sleeping with Cassian, ruining her prospects and turning her family against her.

They had nailed a note to her. Nailed. Lyra felt hot rage fill her and she dug her fingers into her palm to try to keep herself at bay. She hoped that Rhysand never brought her to the Court of Nightmare's and in front of Keir. She wasn't sure she could restrain herself.

The story also deepened her already great respect for Mor. To come from that and be what she was, to live her life helping others and spreading kindness… Lyra couldn't imagine what it took to get to that place. To become that.

Lyra wasn't sure she ever would. It took so long to even care about herself again after her own pain. For Mor to be able to think so much of others…

"Thank you, Mor." She said softly, reaching out and taking her hand. Squeezing it as she blinked away tears.

"I just wanted you to know that you aren't alone." Mor said, squeezing her hand back, her own eyes swimming with emotions. "I know what you suffered is different…"

Lyra thought of telling her then, of laying bare what had happened to her all those years ago. It was there, on the tip of her tongue, waiting to fall from her. She wanted too, so badly it physically hurt her but-

You're a liar. You can't stand when I'm happy, can you?

Who would believe you, you little fucking whore?

She felt the words echo in her head, the pain of them burning and scorching into her. No one had believed her, not her mother, not the school, the police. After she had left, she had never told anyone else. She couldn't. The risk of being called a liar again, of someone not believing the horrible truth of what had happened to her was always too great.

That fear struck again now, even as Mor had given her truth and the truth of these priestesses.

So, she squeezed Mor's hand back, thanking her for sharing with her and tried to ignore that little piece of her that died away.

Push it down, ignore it, leave it, no matter what it did to her.

She survived being in the library, around those priestesses and emerged from the lower levels hours later feeling hallow and empty. She made some excuse to Mor to head back to her room, almost collapsing into the bed before she curled up, shaking as she hugged one of the pillows to herself.

She was so weak. And she hated herself for it. She hated that he held so much power over her after so long, even here in an entirely different world. Even now, when she had this new body, one with strength that could have shredded him into nothing.

She hugged the pillow closer when she felt it, that churning of power welling up inside her, clawing and crawling up, aching to get out. Just like those words. Tears stung her eyes as she dug her nails into her other arm, trying desperately to strangle that power, force it into submission and back to that dark place within her. She could do it, she could make it go away, she could drive it down and out-

And then the world exploded.

Azriel had barely landed back in the house before he felt it. Like a wave of energy that made the world spin and seemed to shake the entire mountain. He had wondered for a moment if it was Rhysand, who's power was the only thing he had ever felt do such a thing, but he knew his brother was still near Hybern monitoring their boarder.

And it felt different, not darkness and night but something… new.

Lyra… His shadows hissed, panic and fear lining their whispers. The single word made his heart race, fear shiver down his spine.

He ran toward her room, those shadows hissing her name in his ear over and over. He jerked to a stop, his heart hammering as he came to her room and saw the door off its hinges, broken and splintered against the wall opposite it. Glowing with that power, the feel of it making his insides quake.

Mor had come from the opposite side, her eyes wide and fearful as she saw that door. She came back to herself quicker, running into the room. Her movement had Azriel's own legs working again and he stared, the leftover of that power still pulsing in the room and making him nauseous as he took it in.

The room was destroyed, like it had been blown apart. The table next to the bed had shattered against the wall, splintered and wrecked, the small items it held scattered around the floor. The dresser was in pieces, drawers out, them and their contents half charred, though no flames or smoke was there. The top of the four-poster bed had been blown off and smashed into the fireplace, a large chunk of the wood blown so hard it stuck out of the wall like a jagged spike.

Lyra was on the bed, the bottom the only thing left upright, though those charred marks ran along the back like giant, horrible claw marks. She was curled up, shaking and cowering, just like those few weeks ago when he had found her. Her forehead was against her knees, her arms around her head as she shook.

"Lyra…" Mor whispered, her voice surprising calm. He knew she had to feel it, that quaking power still swirling in the air. "Lyra, are you okay?"

Mor had reached the bed, carefully sitting next to where Lyra was curled up. Mor laid her hand on Lyra's arm, gentle and cautious and the touch seemed to break something in Lyra because she let out a horrible, heartbreaking sob. Azriel fought to stay still, to stop himself from going to her and cradle her to him.

"It will be okay." Mor whispered, her gentle fingers running over Lyra's curls and the other rubbing her arm. "We're here."

Lyra lifted her head then and Azriel saw that glimmer of that power still in her eyes, shinning and making her unearthly eyes seem to glow. Mor didn't even flinch as she saw it and Azriel thanked the Cauldron for it. Her face pained him, physically hurt him.

"He raped me, and no one believed me." She whispered, voice hoarse and broken. "My mother didn't believe me." It was not the words that Azriel had expected and when they sank it, he felt a white-hot rage fill him, his vision going red. He almost snarled, but he bit it down. Who had done this? He would find them, would show them Truth teller-

"I believe you." Mor whispered, her fingers still running through Lyra's curls and Azriel heard the emotion in her words. That old hurt she held herself. "I believe you." Mor repeated, her voice strengthening as she pulled Lyra to her, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Lyra shuddered, her own arms wrapping around Mor as she held her. Held her and whispered those words to her, let them sink in and calm her. That power faded, seeming to be extinguish as Mor soothed her.

Despite his own urge to hold her, to comfort her himself, he moved toward the open door. This moment wasn't for him to see. This pain, it was something shared between her and Mor, something that the blonde would be able to help with. So, though every instinct in him roared for him not too, he quietly headed out. Mor caught his eye before he looked back one last time before he exited, her eyes searching as she looked over his face. He wasn't sure what she was looking for, but something on her face seemed to show that she had found it.

He wasn't sure why the look she gave him unnerved him so, but he tried to ignore it as he walked away. He ached for Lyra, his rage simmering just below the surface. He wanted to destroy something, to release this pain he now held for Lyra. He felt useless, something he hated almost more than anything.

He decided on training ring, hitting and going through his old training until he was sweating and panting and his body burned from exhaustion. Her face was seared into his mind and he wasn't sure he would ever, in the rest of his existence, forget it.

"Azriel."

He turned, wings flaring, to see Mor walking toward him. She looked almost exhausted as he was, her face pale and a dark, haunted look on her face that he so rarely saw anymore. He felt that nausea bubble in his stomach, followed by that flicker of rage. Rage at Eris, at Keir and the Court of Nightmares, at whoever had hurt Lyra.

"Lyra-" He said immediately, moving toward her and was surprised to see her lip twitch up just slightly at the single word. He wasn't sure what that was for, what that look she gave him meant.

"She's sleeping. I moved her into another one of the bedrooms." Mor said, leaning against the fence around the ring and letting out a tired sigh. "Its my fault. I pushed her too far-"

"It is not your fault. You have helped her." He assured her, wings tucking in tight as he stood before her. The moon cast her in a soft glow, making her pale skin and flowing blonde hair seem to shine. Even tired and drawn, she looked so beautiful.

"I took her to the library. I knew she was nervous but I thought hearing their story and my own…" Mor paused, eyes guttering as she let out a rush of air. "I thought it would help her to know there were others who understood how it was to be forced against their will. I was thinking of the Cauldron, but I didn't know that she had been…"

Mor's own fist clenched, a low snarl ripping from her as she shook her head. Anger pulsed from her, deep and raw. He had seen it many times over the years since her own violation, always after bringing another female here to the library, after listening to their stories and spending time to help heal them. It always brought her pain, to see these females, but she never stopped. She couldn't. He knew that.

"She has agreed to train with Amren." Mor said once she had calmed herself. "She said she didn't wish to hurt anyone."

Azriel felt a small bit of relief at the words. Not from fear of her, never that, but because of the pain that the loss of control seemed to cause her. The fear she seemed to hold for herself and this new power. "Good." He whispered and Mor watched him, head tilting as she studied him.

"You care deeply for her." She said, a simple, brutal truth from the Morrigan. Azriel shifted, the words, especially coming from her, causing discomfort. He had not wished to discuss this with Rhysand or Cassian and to discuss it wit her seemed like some kind of horrible, unusual punishment from the Mother. "Don't go fading into shadow."

He gave her a look but pushed some of the shadows he had begun to almost subconsciously weave around himself away. "I have come to consider her a friend." He bit out, not even attempting to hide the irritation in his words, hoping it would be enough warning for her to leave the conversation alone.

"Azriel," Mor said, the word almost like a reprimand. He said nothing, jaw clenching. He should have known she would not head the warning in his voice. She never did. "She cares for you. I see how she misses you when you are gone."

The words sent a spark of warmth through him and he was surprised by how much they meant to him. The fact that they were said by Mor though, it made him feel odd. Conflicted.

"And she knew you when she came here. Just you." Mor continued, completely unfazed by the internal battle he felt inside himself. The truth, that was all Mor cared about.

"I know." He snarled, surprising himself with the anger that he had directed at her. He had never gotten this way with Mor before, and he saw her shock on her face. He felt instantly guilty, the feeling causing a heaviness in his stomach. "I…"

"It's okay." Mor answered quickly, backing up a step and a smile spreading across her face. A happy mask. "I just wanted to let you know she's okay."

"Thank you." He whispered, that heaviness growing in his stomach as Mor nodded, turning away to head back into the House. Azriel felt that anger at himself bubbling, combining, and churning with the anger he still held for Lyra's pain and he lashed out, his fist colliding with one of the pillars of the fence, the wood splintering and sending a jolt of pain down his hand. It felt good, a tiny bit of relief as he stared at the blood on his knuckles, dripping down his fingers and onto the ground.

He let out a breath, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side before he turned back toward the center. His body burned, fighting him as he started again, but he forced himself to continue. To focus on his own physical pain instead of that of Mor's or Lyra's. The pain he could do nothing for.

Again, he felt useless. Confused and angry and useless.

He stayed until nearly dawn, until his body could do no more and his shadows practically begged him to go to sleep. He found himself coming to Lyra's new room before going to his own, unable to stop himself from checking on her. His shadows slid eagerly under her door, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief as well when they whispered that she was quiet and sleeping. It eased some of those feelings, just a tiny bit to know that she had found some peace that night.

She was okay or getting there. That was all that mattered and was the only thing that allowed him to slip into a fitful sleep.