"What do you mean? That's impossible Rhys." A strong feminine voice asked. My everything hurt. I groaned softly as I soared back to consciousness. Whatever I was on was horribly stiff causing a deeper ache in my back than the rest of my angry body.
"Not impossible." A sharper voice corrected. Silence followed the statement. I struggled to open my eyes faintly remembering the sidewalk tilting. The cold, which seemed absent now. Perhaps I was in a hospital after fainting. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to walk home.
"I'm dying." I mumbled to no one in particular.
"Not quite." The sharp voice was closer. Familiar. I finally found the will to open my eyes and found myself staring into a pair of silver ones. Other memories, hazy fever dreams rose to mind as I stared at the near perfect face. Her hair had partially dried, I noted dimly.
I shook my head pulling myself backward and away from the woman. "No. You were a dream. I'm in the hospital." Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. It was then I realized I was laying on what looked to be a cot, with a blanket thrown over me. Still naked, but now I had at least two layers keeping me from the strangers in the room.
"You know where you are."
"Amren." I said quietly. She was terrifying somehow. Like the echo of some great beast prowled in her eyes. She tilted her head in acknowledgement of her name.
"How are you feeling?" That was a different voice. Another person I had met. I met Feyre's blue eyes from across the room.
"Hopefully this is what a coma feels like." I said curling into myself. I felt dirty and wrong. Like my proportions were all wrong. Feyre let out an amused sound.
"It's not." That was a new voice. I quickly looked to see what I could only describe as another perfect being. She was easily the curviest woman out of the three in the room. Golden hair and chocolate eyes that were staring at me with a frank fascination. Even covered in dirt and spatters of what looked to be blood she was everything I had ever wanted out of beauty. The kind of woman to start wars.
"Hi."
Her mouth quirked up at the edge a playful sparkle entering her eyes. "Hello."
"Can….can I go home? Will you guys let me leave?"
"I'm not sure you can go home." A male voice. I glanced to Rhysand who had one hand on Feyre as if he couldn't bear being apart from her. "Where I saw…." He trailed off and I remembered the strange glittering black claws that slid through my memories. Playing my life like some kind of video. I glanced down at myself and froze once again. Panic welling up like a black sludge clogging my throat and making it difficult to breathe.
"This isn't my body." I heard myself say in a distant numb voice. I let myself touch the black and silver marked arm. I could feel it, my own smooth fingers tracing over a swirl of black runic looking marks.
"You were Made, girl." Amren's voice shouldn't be so far away. My heart hammered against my ribcage. Could I even count it as my ribcage? I didn't even know what my eyes looked like. Or my face. Air became scarce.
"Hey, it's okay." The blonde one was suddenly crouching near me. "Don't mind Amren, she doesn't bite too often."
The woman in question growled, a feral sound, at the blonde.
"I'm Morrigan." She held out a hand. For a moment I wanted to simply close my eyes and give in to the steady building pressure in my chest. Instead I pulled myself up into a sitting position wrapping the blanket carefully around myself before reaching out to shake her hand. The smile she gave me was absolutely radiant.
"I'm Nova."
"Nova," Rhysand was stepping away from Feyre, "do you mind if you meet a few more people?"
I frowned slightly pulling the blanket closer to my chest. "I don't know." I answered truthfully. "I don't understand anything that's going on. I think I'm going crazy."
"You're not." Morrigan told me seriously. They all were watching me like some sort of threat. Like I was the weird one here in the room of supermodels.
"Can I have some clothes first?"
Something in Feyre's face softened at my request. She nodded but it was Morrigan who began to move.
"Of course! Give me a moment." She added ducking out of the tent. There was a soft voice. "She's awake. Wait to go in. Be right back." And then the sound of retreating footsteps.
"The people you want me to meet are out there." I guessed looking toward the now closed tent opening.
"Yes." At least Rhysand wasn't lying to her as far as she knew.
"Amren?" The small woman's eyes locked onto me. "Thank you." I wasn't sure where I was or what was going on, but I did know that the dark place. The terrifying darkness that was not so much darkness as a lack of everything. The torture of feeling your every cell forgetting how to be you, then forgetting to be anything at all.
"I wouldn't thank me just yet," was all she said.
There was a soft rustle and I jerked curling violently into myself. Faster than I thought was possible. Morrigan ducked inside looking to me with an unreadable expression before it shifted into a friendly smile.
"Here, it's not much but supplies are low right now. Once we get home we'll get you some better things. And a bath." She said reaching out to touch my arm. Strangely, I relaxed slightly at the contact.
"Home?" Rhysand asked raising an eyebrow.
"She's coming with us, of course." She stated like it was nothing out of the ordinary.
"I am?" I asked touching the clothing Morrigan had placed near me.
"Where else do you have to go?" That was Amren watching me frankly. She must have seen the realization in my face because she nodded once at my expression. I didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't even know what I looked like.
"Everyone out." Feyre was startlingly commanding. She and Rhys seemed to meet eyes for a moment before he sighed and nodded. "You go ahead and get dressed we'll be waiting right outside."
Morrigan was the last one out giving me a reassuring smile before I was left alone. I slowly moved feeling my entire body ache with the movement. I groaned stretching slightly and glancing down at my body. Those tattoos were there curling and twisting in an elegant dance over my skin. It was actually quite pretty in a strange way. The silver accents flickered when I moved creating a strangely alluring sight. I dropped the soggy cloak and reached up to feel my hair hanging in a wadded clump down to the middle of my back. None of it felt real. It didn't feel like my body mentally though I could feel every aching muscle that comprised it. I could hear so much more than I thought. I could hear the soft breathing outside the tent, and farther the muffled strains of conversation as they came and went. I could hear my own heartbeat, abnormally fast and getting faster. I could hear the blood running in my veins.
I took a deep breath feeling a familiar flutter in my chest that preceded a panic attack like my heart was skipping beats. The lack of air. A slow growing buzzing in my head. Even with a new body it seemed my anxiety was the same as ever. I forced myself to breathe quickly grabbing at the clothing. If I covered up my body it might help a little bit.
There was a pair of long black pants that I had to tie rather tightly to get them to sit on my hips correctly, and a soft brown shirt that once on wanted to slip off of my shoulder. They were meant for someone much bigger than me, I realized. I stood for a moment looking around the tent. For the most part it seemed barren. A single desk with papers strewn about on the top. A lamp which was the source of the yellow light that dominated the space. The cot looked new as if someone had dragged it inside just for me.
"Okay," I called moving back to perch at the edge of the cot, farthest away from the door. "I'm dressed."
Feyre was the first in looking me over. Next was Morrigan, then Amren. Rhysand. Then a new face who immediately went to look at the runes decorating my arms. I froze in studying him too. Wings, large and impressive were on his back. Very much like a bat or dragons wings. Another fluttering sensation and I jerked backward off the cot eyes wide. I couldn't think. He had wings! People don't have wings.
At my sudden movement he seemed to shift into a stance before catching himself. His face was sharp as if some great forces had carved him rather than being born. Sharp hazel eyes studied me as he raked a hand through his dark hair. It almost hit the tops of his shoulders which only gave him a wilder look.
God he was big. I took another step back feeling the desk touch my heel.
"Don't worry." He said holding his hands up peacefully. I refused to look away from him the fluttering in my chest increasing. I hardly realized the way my breathing picked up or how I could smell a sharp tang from myself as if my fear had been given a scent. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"You have wings." I found myself saying.
He took a few steps forward and another man stepped behind him. Where the first man was all rough edges this man was all elegance. Tall and imposing, shadows seemed to cling to his very skin. Just like the first man massive wings were neatly folded against his back. He reminded me vaguely of older paintings when they depicted angels. All immovable beauty. Unreadable, his eyes met mine the same shade as the first man's. His eyes went to the markings and I found myself shaking.
"I may be an Illyrian but I promise I'm not here to harm you." The first said still watching me.
"What's an Illyrian?" I asked once I found my voice. It was shaky and hardly there, but I was proud for not falling into a shrieking mess. His eyes went a bit wide at that. The elegant one tilted his head a fraction.
"Warriors of the Night Court." He clarified.
"Court?" I glanced around the room. "Am I in trouble?"
"The court of which he is the High Lord." He continued looking gobsmacked motioning to Rhysand. With so many eyes on me I wasn't sure how to act. I hated it.
"Does your world have Courts?" Rhysand asked.
"We have judicial courts." I said quietly.
"Judicial." His voice struck me like a chord of rather beautiful music. I looked to the shadow wreathed man. "Care to explain?"
"Ah," I glanced down at my own hands. "They're a way that the government resolves disputes I guess. Usually they give and carry out sentences when people break the law."
"Who rules you?" The shadowed man asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Your King or Queen or High Lord?" The rough one asked.
"We moved past kings and queens over 200 years ago."
The silence that followed my statement was so thick I swore I could cut it with a knife if I had one. The shadow one did. It hung gleaming and silver at his side.
"Um...we have a president instead." I said feeling uncomfortable.
"A president?" Amren echoed.
"Yeah he's a representative of the american people who is put into office through a voting system. They have a term of four years and then they can run for office again, but they can only have two terms and then they're not eligible anymore. Election season is a big deal usually." I almost immediately fell into the rhythm of explaining things when asked. It was part of my job after all.
Absolute silence save for the sounds of their breathing and heartbeats. The elegant one suddenly moved brushing past everyone to come stand before me. I wasn't sure why but I flinched jerking away from him and slamming into the desk. It was too much at once. His wings even moved. A slight flexing as they settled back onto his back. The shadows seemed to crawl and twirl over his skin like living things. A few crawled up his neck and one I noticed slowly reached for me. Blind panic had me trying to dart past him. Cool hands easily caught me. Trapped me. I couldn't breathe.
The room warped and in the back of my fracturing mind I heard a familiar strain of laughter. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
"It's okay." His voice cut through the haze of my mind easily. It took me a moment to realize I had collapsed, and the shadowed man was the only reason I hadn't hit the floor. "There's no danger." I looked up into his eyes and felt something click. The man's eyes went wide and his wings flared out behind him with a snap. I jerked back a bit, but his hands gave no quarter.
"Azriel?" The rough man was taking a step to us. He was staring at me though his eyes locked on me as if he couldn't look away.
"Are you okay?" I was hardly able to hold myself up for the fear and yet concern cut through me. He took a shuddering breath in that I could feel through my body. He smelled good, I realized distantly. Like leather and ink. I could smell the sweat and blood on him. See the dirt caked into the ridges of his armor. It took me a moment to notice but his hands were horribly scarred as if someone had burned them.
"Azriel." That was Rhysand. His eyes jerked up at that, finally away from my face.
"She…" His voice buzzed against me and some deep part of me liked the sound. Much more than I should. He was holding me against my will. This wasn't even my body. And now I was trapped being held by a being with wings. The panic welled up once more and his eyes snapped back to me eyes going wide. I jerked backward trying to get away. His grip faltered and I found myself stumbling backward into Rhysand. He steadied me quickly but Azriel suddenly looked murderous a dark fury rising up in his eyes that sent me shaking.
I hated this. I hated feeling weak. I could usually keep better control of myself than this. But the images of the dark nothing ate at the back of my mind. My body moved with a speed that was unnatural. Was wrong. My proportions were so much longer now I hardly knew how to deal with it.
Everyone was looking between the two of us as if we had suddenly grown two heads each. Rhysand carefully let go of me and some of the fury within his eyes dimmed. His fury so cold almost as if frost had crawled into his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I muttered glancing down at my feet. The tattoos were even there. "I'm not meaning to freak out. I just….I don't understand any of this." I admitted to him. "You have wings. Real working wings. And you're all so beautiful. I couldn't even understand you at first. I just wanted to get home. I know it was stupid to walk home alone. But this shouldn't have happened."
"It's no fault of your own." Rhysand murmured from behind me. The shadowed man, Azriel as they called him, was still staring at me as if the rest of the world had fallen away for the moment. Between us, for a moment, I swore I could feel a moonstone expanse just forged and shimmering. Unseen and yet so real I felt if I reached out I would feel the intricate twists of it beneath my hands.
Disbelief echoed through my head.
I jerked back slamming back into Rhysand.
"I'm so sorry." I gasped moving slightly away from him. "Maybe I should just go." I offered glancing at the entrance of the tent. I already knew that I wouldn't know where to go. I didn't know where I was or even who these people truly were. Tears stung my eyes at the thought, but I pushed the emotion down quickly not wanting this group of people to see me cry.
"Where would you go?" That was Amren watching me with the strange ruthless intensity. She arched one delicate eyebrow when I didn't answer at first.
"Away from here. I'll figure out how to get home."
"Not possible." Amren sighed.
A soft touch on my arm and I found myself looking toward Feyre and Rhysand. They were holding hands. A couple, I realized. Of course they were. They had hardly stopped touching each other the entire time I had known them.
"The place you came from was a world apart from our own. You fell through when the Cauldron cracked. We sealed you here on this side when we mended it." Rhysand tried to gently explain. I shook my head taking a few steps back.
"None of this is real." I told them. Told myself. All I got back was pity. I was moving toward the tent exit before I knew what to do. The large one tried to grab at me, but some instinct had me twisting and dancing just beyond his fingers and then I was out the door.