Thank you all for sticking with me despite the very long wait between chapters. I'm hoping I'll have more time now...since I was laid off due to the virus. It's a strange and scary time for me, so I'm glad I get to live in this world with Azriel (and my darling Bryn) for a little while. I can't thank you enough for your feedback and encouragement.
Chapter 11
Deep within the western woods of Prythian's mortal realm, there sat a cottage. It seemed small, in comparison to the towering trees around it. Nestled next to what was once a gushing waterfall, it bore no signs of livability. The wood it was crafted of was rotted, having been eaten away by a strange and pungent moss that warded off any curious animals scavenging for food. The lantern that hung above the threshold had not been lit for many, many years. Any passersby would certainly have deemed it abandoned and likely empty of any worth. That is, if there had been any passersby. Few mortals dared to slip so far into this part of the forest. Nameless as it was. For although the wall itself had been broken down as a sign of goodwill in the wake of the great war that almost came to be, an invisible line still stretched through the trees, untouched and unbreakable. The demarcation was easy enough to see with mortal eyes. The trees belonging to the Spring Court were touched by fae magic. So they grew, tall and green. As trees should. But on the mortal side, where magic of any kind was still considered a rare and dangerous commodity, the forest had withered.
Centuries had passed since the land had seen prosperity. Far longer than any living human could hope to remember. The damage that had been wrought upon the land was too great. It bore scars in the form of cavernous trenches and caves that held mysteries yet to be uncovered. The trees that grew back were but a shadow of what once was. Most were gnarled and brittle. Their growth stunted by a lack of sun, as the very air was so thick with fog it blocked out the light on most days. Branches curved in on themselves, as if they were wounded or ill. Their leaves were fragile and thin, as black as ravens feathers with veins of white, sickly like ash. The water that flowed through ponds and streams was sallow. A thin mist permeated the landscape, obscuring the vision of any who dared enter. Few creatures could thrive in such a place. Only one, dared to call it home.
Like the forest, she had no name, but those who still believed in her existence would call her many things. Witch, siren, hag, conjurer. Hag was a favorite of hers, if only because she enjoyed hearing the word spat at her. Those who used it, usually despised her. Or feared her. Sometimes it was both; the two emotions melding into an even more dangerous concoction. She drank it in like fine wine, feeding off their fears not unlike the demons that haunted all the old tales. In reality, however, she considered herself none of those things. She was simply a vessel and had so mined the forest of it's magic, dark and dangerous as it was, to create a more satisfying life for herself. She was granted great power for her efforts and she used it as a bargaining tool. Many years ago, mortals would come from far and wide in hopes she would grant them powers of their own or, at the very least, use her magic to assist them with their problems. To her, it was a game. A way to pass the time and provide her with what she really wanted. Her cabin, as dilapidated as it was, was stocked to the brim with rare trinkets and treasures. Like the dragons of old, she sat upon her hoard, always cataloguing and caressing. She was alone, but satisfied in spite of the consequences that came with playing at magic. She could no longer leave the forest, let alone her little cottage. And her body was beginning to deteriorate at an alarming rate. Her only comfort was the knowledge that she had managed to live far longer than her mortal brethren. What awaited her on the other side, after all her experiments, she didn't know. She could only wait, trapped in a terror of her own making, until the day would come and her last breath would leave her.
It was then, on what was to be her final day, that a familiar silhouette graced her doorway. A young man. At least, he looked to be young. She had taught him, many years ago, how to tinker with time. Just as she had. Standing just under six feet, he was slight in form, bearing little muscle or shape. He relied on other means to assert himself in a world that would have rather seen him dead. The ivory of his tailored coat was but a shade darker than the pallor of his skin. Matching leather gloves adorned his hands. One of them clutched tightly to an intricately carved cane of polished bone. Strange, that someone so young would have need for such an accessory. Stranger still, was his hair; equally pallid though expertly coiffed into a mantle that would be considered stylish for the time. His eyes were icy blue, a stark contrast to his overall visage. They stood out against the severe angles of his nose and jaw, as sharp as steel blades. His was a carefully crafted image. To the mortals of the nearby towns and villages, he was downright odd. Some even mistook him for Fae from time to time.
He stepped into the cottage without so much as a greeting, surveying the darkness with an air of dull indifference, casually working the gloves from his hands before stuffing them in a pocket at his side. The door slid shut behind him with such force the building quaked.
"Mother," He called. The word rang out across the lightless room. His voice was loud and clear as a bell, but laced with unmistakable disdain.
With a shudder, several dozen empty lanterns dotted haphazardly across the floor sparked to life, the black wax candles inside bearing an unnatural acidic green light. Shadows began to dance languidly across the damp walls and floor. Stacks of books and papers covered most of the floor. Cages of all types and sizes hung from the ceiling; some of them bearing carcasses of rare animals, others were packed with overgrown plants. Boxes bearing gems and other items of finery were pressed against the walls, each protected by magical locks. They were stacked low and high, seemingly with no order. The young man bore them no mind.
Much like a snake poised to defend itself, the elderly woman drew in a shallow hiss of breath. Her body shook and trembled at the effort of it. Her lips, dry and cracked, peeled apart and she spoke. Her voice was as wet and as low as an toad's croak, yet it radiated around the room as though the sound of it eked from every crevice and crack that lined the walls and floor and ceiling.
"Mother? I am no mother, for I have bore no children into the world."
Unperturbed, the young man stepped forward, weaving his way between the piles. He kept his hands tucked deep into his pockets, showing extra care in each step so as not to make contact with anything other than the floor. This was not his first visit and he had learned long ago the consequences of disturbing anything from its place, regardless of how worthless it seemed upon first glance.
"You made me, did you not?" He said with a smile that came far too easily. "I would not be who I am without your...charity and guidance. Someone else may have pushed me into this world, but you...you gave me life."
His voice was like syrup. Dangerous in it's sweetness.
This was not lost on the hag. Though her body was a prisoner to time, her mind ran free and was all the sharper for it. Her eyes, yellow and glowing with a soft light, like forgotten embers, narrowed as she took in the site of him.
He frowned, momentarily disappointed. "Have you forgotten me already? It hasn't been so long…"
"Aldric." The hag croaked. "It has been long. Twenty years. At least."
"Long perhaps, for a mortal." Aldric sniffed, slipping into the empty chair that sat before her table. "But we are not mortals, are we, my dear?"
The hag huffed a laugh, "never forget where you started boy, haven't I told you that before?"
Aldric rolled his eyes. He was done with pleasantries.
"You know why I'm here."
The hag guffawed, her hands coming loose from the folds of her shawl and drawing up towards the table. A series of runes were laid out before her, she shifted her attention to them, reading their placement with practiced casualty. "Do I?"
Aldric folded one leg over the other, his hands coming together in his lap. He ran his thumb over one of the rings around his opposite finger. It bore an obsidian gem. Even in the lowlight, he could catch sight of his own reflection on it's surface. His eyes narrowed.
"I'm afraid you're a poor teacher." He said, straining to keep his tone amiable.
"Oh?" The hag murmured, her eyes still trained on the table. She lifted one shaking hand and several of the runes slid to it like blind chicks to their mother's wing. She closed her hand around them, feeling the cool stone against her weathered skin.
"Yes, 'Oh'." Aldric said, his eyes sparking with impatience. "That, or you're a liar."
The aging woman hissed before scattering the runes across the table. They didn't roll, but moved swiftly, with purpose as if they were living creatures enacting wills of their own.
"I am no liar, boy," she spat, an edge of annoyance grating around the room.
The runes came to a hasty halt, freezing into place. Unnaturally still. Silence permeated the room as thick as incense smoke.
"You told me," Aldric continued, unshrinking. "that curses were permanent."
The old woman's sparse brow perked up in interest. One of the runes shuddered and rolled over, taking a new position on the board she had etched into the table.
"What need would a child like you have for curses?" She asked, more amused than surprised. Though she kept her eyes trained on the table, she still sensed him flinch at the use of the word. She almost smiled.
"I see no need to rifle through the details." He answered coolly, his eyes wandering slowly around the length of the room.
She grunted in agreement. Time was the most precious of commodities and hers was nearly up. Still, she found a small wick of pleasure in wasting some of his.
"Curses are fickle, complex things." She said, her voice bearing the fragility of her age even more so than her wizened face. "Not playthings for amateurs."
Aldric's eyes sharpened, but he knew better than to protest.
"Well, give me your hand." She ordered.
With a labored sigh, he leaned forward. His left hand hit the table hard in the center, palm facing the ceiling. Pushing aside the now idle runes, the witch slipped her hand under his. To any normal mortal, the touch would have felt ice cold, but Aldric was no normal mortal. Not anymore. As the hag's eyes slid shut, Aldric's finally focused on her face. He watched her carefully.
A humming from the base of the hags throat grew louder and louder until an ice blue light burst to life between them. It hovered a foot above their conjoined hands for several seconds before fizzling, the remnants of it falling over their hands in specks. Aldric shifted uncomfortably as he felt the unmistakable presence of her inner eye descend upon his skin like drops of wax, hot and liquid but entirely invisible. She placed her free hand over his. Her fingers drew together as if they were trying to pluck at a stray hair stuck to his palm. She drew them up with a shaky breath. Black ink sprouted from the lines of his palm, as if summoned from inside of him. It pooled in his hand until there was so much of it that it flowed over to the table, trickling down the sides of his hand like streams of blood. Aldric, no stranger to this ritual, turned his hand over and dragged it across the table, leaving behind a trail of symbols that would read as utter nonsense to an untrained eye. The hag leaned forward, her nose nearly touching the table, to read the inky signs.
"Hmmm, the bindings are strong." She said finally, not bothering to contain her surprise.
Aldric smiled, pleased by the praise. "It was you that taught me. Did you expect shoddy work?"
She ignored the half-hearted jab. Her eyes were fixated the table. This configuration was new to her. With a wave of her hand, the ink stain vanished. She picked up the runes once more and tossed them across the table. Her thin brows furrowed as she watched them fall into place.
"Something else gnaws at the chain." She concluded. "Weakening it."
Aldric's lip turned up in a stony grimace. "What?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" Aldric repeated, the words bathed in disdain. "How is that possible?"
"Magic is malleable," The hag said with a maddening shrug. "No one, no matter how long they study, can truly understand it."
Aldric rose swiftly to his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching in useless fists. The room seemed to darken. Loose papers and empty cages shuddered as a dark wind passed through the length of the hut. The hag's chin turned up, her eyes focusing on Aldric's face for the first time since he had entered her home.
"If you can't help me," he said, lowering his hand. "Then you're of no use to me."
His voice was low and ireful, but the hag paid it no mind. She had witnessed his tantrums on many an occasion.
"I still requirement payment." She responded expectantly.
Aldric muttered something under his breath. With little hesitation, he slid the obsidian ring from his finger and tossed it to the table. The hag's hand shot out from her shawl and scooped it up.
With a knowing laugh she said, "if you feel so strongly, my boy-"
The rest of the words died in her throat which was overcome by an intense gurgle as her airwaves were suddenly flooded with what felt like boiling liquid. She wretched, her hand opening instinctively to drop the ring, but it was adhered to her skin. Confused, she looked closely at it. The black gem had turned tar-like, bubbling and spitting as it sunk deeper into her palm.
"What-?" She tried to speak but the heat began to eat away at her veins. The pain quickly becoming was overwhelming. She looked up at her once loyal apprentice, her yellow eyes raging.
Aldric only grinned before calmly lowering himself back into his chair and crossing his legs once more.
"Sorry, dear." He said, slipping his gloves back onto his hands. "But I always knew it would come to this...one day."
The hag sputtered as black bile rose in her throat, spilling out of her lips and down her chin.
"That's called the 'peasants tear'," Aldric explained. "A nasty little gem. I was told the pain is...unimaginable."
The hag could do nothing but writhe like an insect possessed by a fungal parasite. Aldric leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the table and resting his chin in one hand.
"Lucky for you it works quickly." He continued, genially. "If only you hadn't been so greedy, dear. Shown just a little restraint."
Even in the throes of a harrowing death he could see her attempting to speak. Her hands moved in circles and he recognized the beginnings of spellwork.
"It's too late for that, I'm afraid." He cooed, his eyes glistening with sickly pleasure.
His smile only grew as he watched her final breath tear violently through her. The hag's body went still, all life drained out of her in a matter of seconds.
"Now then," Aldric said aloud, after a moment. He rounded the table and pushed the unmoving corpse aside. The haunting figure crashed loudly to the floor, shaking the very foundation of the cottage but he took no notice.
With a calming breath, his eyes fell shut and he placed his hands on either side of the table.
"Show me." He commanded. The runes twitched to life at the sound of his voice. Like a troupe of dutiful soldiers they formed into a line, ready to act on his word.
"Where is she?"
The runes shuddered before flying in chaotic circles across the board searching for the answer their new master craved. Aldric's eyes watched them fall into place.
"Well, this is unexpected," He said aloud. He dropped into the hag's now vacant chair, hitching one foot up on the table. His head fell back, his eyes trained on the ceiling as he began to weigh his options.
"No matter. I'll have you home soon..." He drawled, looking down at his arm. With his left hand he pulled back his right sleeve, revealing a black ink tattoo. A heady smile slithered across his face as he caressed the ink with his thumb.
"...my darling girl."
"Well, for starters, she's the cutest." Mor said, amber eyes pointed towards the blue sky above.
Feyre fell into step next to her, her golden hair braided only somewhat neatly into a crown around her head, a curious look dancing in her eyes.
It was a particularly warm day for Velaris. The smell of salt and sand spun thick through the winds that carried in from the sea. The sun shone bright at the very highest point of the sky. Summer seemed only a breath away.
"Oh?" Feyre pressed, anxious for Mor to continue.
"I mean, she's just so petite." Mor said, looping her arm through her High Lady's and leading her on down the cobbled street towards the Sidra. "She only comes up to about...here."
She held her free hand up just below her shoulder to show what she meant.
"Like Amren?" Feyre asked.
"Not at all like Amren." Mor huffed. "Amren may be little but she certainly doesn't act like it."
Feyre laughed. "That's for sure."
"And she's very quiet, well...I mean, I think she would be even without her...circumstance? That can't be right, I don't know what to call it."
Feyre watched Mor with an amused eye, "you're so excited."
"Of course I'm excited! Azriel is my friend...our friend. And unlike me or Cassian or you now that you've got that studio of yours...he doesn't have a lot of other friends outside the circle or his ring of spies. I and don't even know if they really qualify as friends. But now I finally got to meet one! And now you do, too."
Feyre laughed and nodded. It didn't make a whole lot of sense but she had to admit there was something exciting about it. She had begrudgingly heeded Rhysand's request to wait until Azriel was ready to introduce her.
I can't say it was easy though. Feyre thought. It's been distracting me day and night.
Not that it mattered, now that the day had come. In the near week that had come to pass since spotting them on the bridge, Feyre had come up with dozens of questions she desperately craved answers too. She knew, however, that some would have to wait.
But some of them...I might be able to get answers to now.
"I know Rhys talked with Az, but he won't tell me anything."
Mor snorted. "Typical."
Feyre couldn't help but agree. "I understand it, though."
"Oh so do I." Mor nodded. "But it's still typical."
Feyre laughed. "It is, isn't it?"
As they talked, they passed by several of their shops and cafes. The streets were bustling thanks to the perfect weather and they took time to note which cafes seemed less crowded than others, playfully arguing over which spot would be best for lunch. As they neared the Sidra, Feyre poised the most pertinent of her questions.
"Is she really human?"
Mor nodded.
"Then, how did they meet?" Feyre asked, a bevy of questions tumbling from her mouth before she could stop herself. "Does he know what village she's from? If it's mine I may know her. Or Elain might."
A faint shadow breezed across Mor's face so quickly that most wouldn't have had the time to make note of it, but Feyre was more observant than most.
"Mor?"
Mor's ever-present smile was still in place, but Feyre could see a familiar sadness thinly veiled behind her eyes.
"Azriel didn't tell me much, but he said he met her not long after I told him...well, you know."
"Oh."
"He went all the way to the mortal lands, Feyre," Mor sighed, her shoulders dropping. "Just to get away."
"Mor," Feyre chastised. "You can't blame yourself for any of that."
"But I-"
"He just needed some space." Feyre said. "We all need that some time."
"I've just…" Mor sighed, trying to find the right words. "I've been so worried about him for these last few months. I know I'm not the only one. It does hurt knowing that I wronged him but at least I know he wasn't grieving or going of and doing something reckless. That sounds...selfish, I know."
Feyre shook her head. "I don't think it's selfish...and I don't think you wronged him, either."
"But now I know," Mor pressed on, her smile returning. "And I feel relieved. All this time, he was just...visiting a friend."
They walked along in silence for several seconds. As they rounded the last block and had the shoreline in their sights, Feyre ventured to ask one last question before it was too late.
"So...she's 'just' a friend?"
Mor laughed. She knew all too well Feyre had been dying to pose that very question since she posed the offer of lunch.
"I only ask because…" Feyre spoke again, "Well, you weren't there, but when we saw them by the Sidra-"
"I think I know what you mean." Mor said. She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful.
Feyre could hardly bear the prolonged silence. When Mor had arrived at her door that morning and asked if she would like to meet this mysterious human, Feyre had practically left the house with her pajamas on. She had dressed quickly, not waiting for Nuala or Cerridwen, and practically leapt out the door with hardly a word of goodbye to a stunned but understanding Rhys.
"You know…" Mor said finally. "The way he looks at her, when she's not looking...I was reminded of how he used to look at me. I don't even think he realizes he does it."
Mor looked to Feyre and couldn't help but giggle; her High Lady's eyes were as big as saucers.
"It's ironic, isn't it?" Feyre pondered. "Shadowsinger of the Night Court. Infamous for knowing what others cannot and yet-"
"He can be so damned oblivious." Mor finished.
"Exactly." Feyre said. "Especially when it comes to himself."
Mor shot a sly side-eyed glance in Feyre's direction. "Reminds me of other people I know."
Feyre blinked. "Who?"
"You!" Mor said, jabbing Feyre's side with her elbow. "You and that stupid cousin of mine."
"What? How so?"
"Oh I don't know, something about two people totally oblivious to how head over heels in love with each other they were." Mor said, furtively.
"Oh please," Feyre countered, waving her hand in dismissal. "We weren't all that oblivious!"
Mor scoffed, feigning a look around. "Where's Cassian when I need him? Or Amren? Or any of your sisters or-"
"Alright, alright," Feyre blushed, pushing Mor away. "Point made."
"Point not made," Mor said, with a teasing wink. "Best believe I will be bringing this up again when I have plenty of witnesses to back me up."
Feyre rolled her eyes. They reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the bridge. For a while they watched the waves as they walked. Sunlight dotted the water like many glittering jewels. Feyre turned her eyes back to the city, she could see the roof of the townhouse several lanes behind them now and was reminded of her first time in the city. How even then, Rhys had known that she was his mate.
"Mor...do you think they're really like that?" Feyre asked. "Like me and Rhys?"
Mor shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe...maybe I just want them to be? Azriel deserves to be happy. He spent so much of his life hoping that I...I just, I don't want him to be alone."
"Azriel's not alone." Feyre implored. "He has us. He has you. Maybe not in the way he imagined but...he treasures his friendships just as much as any-"
"I know." Mor interjected. "I mean, I think I know."
Mor stopped, leaning against the stone wall and letting the winds from the sea wash over her face.
"I guess you'll be able to tell." She said, looking over her shoulder at Feyre. "Once you see them together."
Feyre joined her friend, looking down to the shore below. "Do you see them?"
Mor's eyes combed the shoreline.
"There," She said, pointing. "By the trees."
The beach at the southern end of the bridge was small and far too rocky for anyone hoping to relax on comfortable sandy shores, but Bryn was insistent on getting a closer look at the waves.
I've never been so close to an ocean before. She thought, closing her eyes. The water was cool against her skin, almost bitingly so, but she didn't mind it. As it sloshed gently around her bare ankles she was reminded of her favorite stream in the mountains. The water here was similar in feeling but there was something different about the salty air. It was intoxicating. She breathed it in as if it were a fine perfume. The winds flew past her, knocking her hair about. She had refrained from tying it back today and enjoyed the feeling of her curls flying free. The gentle lull of the waves soothed her nerves. How strange, she thought, smiling in spite of herself. In all her lifetime, she had found very few things were comforting in their newness.
She opened her eyes again, looking down to her feet as another wave slid past her and up the shore. The ground below her was nothing but piles of rocks. They came in all colors, some were gray and others black. A few were even rust-like in color, bearing glints of gold dust. Smaller rocks caught up in the wave landed over her feet, they felt smooth and were colder even than the water, tickling at her skin. She reached down and pulled up a larger stone, running her thumb along its surface before pulling her arm back and chucking as far as she could. She craned her neck back as she watched the stone fly through the air.
Everyday I feel stronger. She thought, a glimmer of pride radiating through her.
She grinned as the rock landed several feet away with a satisfying plunk in a much deeper part of the water.
Even the rocks are different here. Not like the ones in the lake at all.
Her smile morphed into a frown. It worried her, how often she had thought of her home these past few days.
No, not my home. But the clearing.
Things had been simpler then. When it was just her and Azriel. Alone and unbothered. Now there were more friends to meet and she was reminded again that he had a life away from the clearing. One that was worth living. Unlike hers, where she was just relieved to have survived another day on her own terms. It was a cycle of thought that continued to plague her since meeting Mor. Even though she liked her very much and had enjoyed her time with her. Bryn couldn't help but remind herself that Azriel had other friends in his life. Long before he met her.
While I have none.
She worried that one day he would grow tired of her company.
Don't think about that now. She told herself. Just enjoy what time you have.
She aimed her gaze at the sky. No matter where she was, no matter what she had suffered through, she always found comfort in the sky. Today, large cumulus clouds drifted slowly by. They were so brilliantly white, she had to squint to look at them properly.
It really is beautiful here, like something out of a dream.
Her gaze tipped down again, peering over her shoulder to look at Azriel. He had refrained from dipping his feet into the water and instead settled down onto a blanket he brought along. She had felt his eyes on her while she waded through the water at the start, gathering up the folds of her dress so as not to get them wet, but after a while the feeling of being watched had gone away. Now she knew why. He had placed the blanket under the shade of a large tree and was now leaning against it. His arms were crossed back behind his head and his eyes were shut, one of his knees was bent up but the other was splayed out. He was as still as a statue.
Is he asleep? She wondered.
A devilish smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Gathering up the fabric of her dress once more, she slid as silently as she could manage back to the shore, moving carefully to avoid slipping on the smooth, wet rocks underfoot.
She half-expected him to open his eyes when she got close. It was impossible to sneak up on him.
At least, I thought it was.
Oddly enough, he didn't budge. Not even when she lost her footing on the last step and almost fell on top of him. She lowered herself down beside him slowly, her eyes fixed to his face, in case he did decide to wake suddenly.
Curiosity is getting them better of me. Bryn thought, even though she knew she couldn't deny the urge. It didn't feel right. Just to stare. Especially around Azriel. Mor didn't seem to mind the attention, neither did many of the citizens of Velaris. But Azriel was always watching, always acutely aware of his surroundings. It was impossible then, to watch the watcher. And he was the one Bryn wanted to watch the most.
So this is my chance.
She shifted closer, her eyes going first to his wings. She had found them quite intimidating upon first sight, but she was surprised to find she had grown used to them quickly.
Somehow. Bryn thought, her smile growing without her even realizing. Giant bat wings are...familiar now.
A breath of laughter left her. She stiffened immediately, her eyes slamming shut. She had seen Azriel's attentions roused by less noise than that. She was convinced after watching his eyes dart in the direction of a fallen leaf in the mountains that he could likely hear things she could not. She sat frozen for several seconds before daring to open her eyes again. Instead of amber eyes, she was met with a tuft of shadow. It floated up from behind his shoulder, it's folds swirling with deep purples and navys. Bryn swallowed hard. In truth, it was the shadows that truly frightened her. Wings were just sinew and muscle and bone after all. All things her body was made up of as well. The shadows, however, were another matter entirely. She was certain Azriel knew of her aversion, whenever he was close he tried to stifle their aura. But now that he was asleep, they seemed to have a mind of their own.
Is that even possible? She thought, her inquisitiveness winning out over her qualms.
Tentatively, she lifted her hand, holding it level to the wisp of shadow. It split into several thinner tendrils, winding through and around her outstretched fingers like wandering vines searching for sunlight. Bryn inhaled sharply but kept her hand in place. The shadows felt cool against her skin, like morning mist. She turned her hand around, drawing it closer, her palm now facing her. The threads of shadow moved in spiraling circles down her wrist but never constricted. Their touch was deft and ghostly. It sent gentle chills up her spine.
Are you really a part of him? She wanted to say. Or something else. Just a friend? Maybe a curse?
Upon closer inspection they seemed far too beautiful to be anything as odious as a curse. As another cloud passed over the sun, rays of light shone through the shadows and glittering light bounced off of them, reminding Bryn of a starry sky unburdened by the lights of the planet. The shadows thrummed and for one breathless moment, Bryn was foolish enough to believe that they heard her. Somehow.
That can't be, She thought, shaking her head.
Suddenly, the shadows drew back and Bryn looked up to see Azriel had finally woken. She shrank back, flushing with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry." He said, pushing off the tree and lifting a hand to his shoulder. "I didn't mean to-"
Bryn shook her head emphatically. She lifted her hand in a circle, while nodding. One of the signs they had worked out together.
It's okay.
He nodded in understanding, but Bryn could see the doubt in his eyes. He ducked his head and she realized he was ashamed.
"I like to think I have control over them." He said finally. "Sometimes I do. Sometimes…"
The word trailed off for a moment. Another cloud passed by overhead.
"Sometimes they have a mind of their own." He finished, finally.
Bryn knelt beside him and placed her hand over his.
I'm not afraid. She thought. The dark, the night...shadows. They are nothing to be afraid of. They can be beautiful. Like...like you. The dark that's inside of people. That's what I'm afraid of.
The gears in her head struggled to find a way to convey it to him. She could feel a familiar frustration building in her chest. The static and heat of it was becoming unbearable.
With a heavy sigh, Bryn lifted her hand again. Azriel's eyes locked onto hers as he waited patiently. To her surprise, and Azriel's seemingly, the wisp of shadow followed her hand. Bryn smiled, looking down at it. She turned her palm to the sky and the shadow slunk forward. Azriel straightened, but Bryn shook her head.
It's okay. She signed again.
She lifted her free hand to join the other and the shadow pooled in her hands. Bryn's face lit up and she smiled at Azriel.
It's beautiful. She mouthed.
"Beautiful?" Azriel repeated, incredulous.
Bryn nodded. She lifted one hand, her finger tapping at her temple.
Don't you think so?
Azriel's shoulders sagged. "I...never thought of them that way."
Bryn nodded again to press her point. She reached out grabbing one of his hands and pulling it towards hers. The shadow swelled, then moved around both of their hands.
You should. Bryn mouthed. She lifted a hand to her eyes and shook her head. I've never seen anything like them.
Azriel exhaled, running his free hand through his hair. Bryn shook her hand and the shadow slid away again.
She placed both her hands in front of her face, ducking behind them and them popping out again, shaking her head.
Don't hide them. She thought. She pointed to her chest and shook her head again. Not from me.
Azriel watched her in silence this time, a helpless look plastered across his face.
Bryn smiled again, trying to put him at ease.
Okay?
After a moment, Azriel nodded. "Okay."
"Hello!" A voice called from the steps.
Azriel and Bryn both turned to see Mor waving to them.
"Sorry we're late!" She shouted with a smile.
Bryn turned to see Azriel grin, breathing a laugh. The shadows around them vanished in an instant.
"That's alright." He said, standing. He offered Bryn his hand, but his eyes were still trained on Mor.
Bryn could feel the nerves pools in her stomach again. The seemed as far away as the clouds now, the sound of them drowned out by the beating of her heart. She swallowed and took Azriel's hand. He pulled her up with his usual careful ease.
"You ready?" Azriel asked.
Bryn nodded, even though she was doubtful. Tea with Mor had been a relatively easy endeavor, but a lunch with three others, even with Azriel included, seemed daunting.
Don't be silly. Bryn told herself. It's just lunch. And it will make Azriel happy.
"Bryn! Hello!" Mor said, descending on them. "How are you?"
Bryn cocked her head to one side and shrugged her shoulder, a move she had seen Azriel do on occasion.
"It's a beautiful day isn't it?"
Bryn nodded.
Mor took Bryn's hand and pulled her forward. "Bryn, we'd like you to meet Feyre. High Lady of the Night Court."
Ahhh! Another cliffhanger, but I feel like I should devote more time into Feyre's "official" introduction. Thank you for hanging in there with me despite this less than reliable update ummm, "schedule" (if you could call it that)
I like playing with the idea of Azriel's shadows. I know when he was crushing on Mor they would ebb and go away when she was near...but I like the thought that they're apart of him and Bryn actually brings them out in a good way. ;0) I definitely want to explore how his crush phase with Mor is different than his crush phase with Bryn (even though neither of them really get it yet, ah, it's fun to play with clueless sweethearts).
The bad-ish good-ish news I guess is that, due to this virus I've (hopefully) temporarily lost my job, so at the moment I have plenty of time. I do have a Ko-fi that is linked on my tumblr page (stellaseas). I know this is a difficult time for all of us. I hope my stories can bring even a moment of escapism in a time when it is needed. Anxieties are running high, the world is changing at a rapid pace but we always have each other!
Anyways, I was feeling chatty today, but all this to say THANK YOU for reading and I would love to hear from you!