Disclaimer: All but Lyra belong to Sarah J Maas

Lyra didn't come to see Nesta look for the Cauldron. Rhysand had said he tried to reach her, but she had been closed off and he left her to rest after healing Cassian.

Azriel knew the truth. That Lyra didn't want to face him, didn't want to see him. He still saw that devastation on her face, her eyes filling with tears as she saw what was between them. She had thrown him out before he could even speak, before he could even explain.

Not that he knew what he could even say that would begin to explain how sorry he was that she had to now carry that burden. That he expected nothing of her, would not hold her to it.

Rhysand had studied him questioningly, as though he could sense the storm of emotion swirling in him. But Azriel only watched Nesta, forcing his brother to finally look away. He couldn't speak of it now. He couldn't bear to think of that look on her face.

He had wandered the camp after, not daring to even draw too close to Lyra's tent, knowing she would sense him. He didn't even dare to send his shadows, though everything in him wanted to check on her, to see if she still cried alone in her tent.

Hours went by, just him and his shadows and self-hatred. Alone and wrapped in silence until-

His shadows hissed, snapping like snakes of smoke. They were writhing and shifting, angrier and more disturbed than he had ever heard them and it made fear run up his spine. He shifted into shadow, heading toward camp where he stepped out to find Feyre and Rhysand, Nesta, Amren and Lyra gathered. His heart sputtered at the sight of Lyra, her face pale and eyes red, still dressed in her leathers. She steadily avoided his gaze, her jaw clenched and he saw her fingers dig into her skin at her side.

But then his shadows snapped again, pulling in closer to him and almost seeming to shudder against him. "What is that?" He hissed, drawing Feyre's attention.

"You hear it?" She asked, her brows raising in surprise.

"No, but the shadows, the wind…. they recoil." He said, his shadows hissing again.

There was a beat of silence and he saw the others seeming to listen and he saw Lyra's head tilt, brow furrowing. "I think it's leaving." She whispered, her voice hoarse.

Cassian stumbled toward them, Mor just behind, her face concerned and alarmed. Rhys began explaining the sound, the Cauldron calling to Amren, Nesta, Feyre and Lyra, reaching out to study them, the camp. The words sent a chill down Azriel's spine, the implication of what those words meant…

Amren blew out a breath after a moment, just as his shadows calmed and Lyra shuddered, her arms wrapping tightly around herself. Azriel could feel the difference all around him, could feel the air itself lightened and knew that awful presence was now gone.

"Hybern knows where we are by now. The Cauldron likely wanted to have a look for itself." Amren muttered, her smoky eyes glowing slightly in the moonlight. "After we taunted it."

"Let's pray that's the last we see of it." Feyre muttered, rubbing her face tiredly. Lyra wrapped her arms around herself tighter, staring off in the distance toward where the Cauldron had retreated, a dark look on her pale face.

"So you four… because you were Made you can hear it? Sense it?" Varian asked, eyes sweeping over the females.

"It would appear so." Amren said, her voice going a bit deeper as she looked at Varian, eyes roaming over him and Azriel tried not to wrinkle his nose at the look of lust on the tiny creature's face. It had been bad enough to see them clawing at each other earlier as they made their way to the tents.

"Where…" Lyra broke in, her brow furrowing and he saw her eyes flash, looking in toward the camp before her face drained of color. "Where is Elain?"

Nesta went rigid as she stared at Lyra, her eyes going wide and then-

She broke into a run, slipping on mud and pushing herself toward her sister's tent. "Elain-" she gasped, shoving aside the flap, disappearing inside. Feyre was just after her and Azriel heard her grunt when she nearly knocked into her sister, who had jerked to a stop when she saw the empty inside. Azriel couldn't see it was empty, but he could feel it, his shadows whispering as much after he sent them over the inside.

Feyre returned before Nesta, a look of fear on her face that sent Rhysand winnowing, a blade in his hand.

Azriel moved forward, his wings tucking in tight as he entered the tent, Elain's familiar floral smell washing over him. He moved past Nesta, who snarled at him, pain and fear in her eyes, but he ignored her as he moved toward the bed. He laid his scarred hand against the sheets, feeling the warmth and looked back at his High Lady. "They're still warm."

"The Cauldron…" Feyre whispered, her breath shallow. "The Cauldron was fading away - going somewhere-"

Nesta was gone again, shoving Feyre and Lyra aside as she ran on her pale legs, panting as she charged for where that sound had come from. She ran and ran, searching everywhere as she went until they were at the edge of camp, where Rhysand already waited. His face was deceptively calm as he held the fabric in his hands, holding it out to his mate, whose face crumpled in realization that he held her sister's cloak.

Nesta seemed to realize what it was too, because she gave a shuddering gasp and nearly ripped the thing from Rhysand's hands. She stared and stared at it, her breath shallow before she whipped around, teeth bared and looked to Lyra. Azriel nearly growled at the eldest Archeron sister, that deep, ancient pull to protect his mate churning in him as she stalked toward her.

"Where is she?" Nesta snapped, but there was something broken about her voice. Lyra just stared back, eyes gentle, understanding. "You can sense things - where is she?"

"I don't know." Lyra admitted, her voice soft, calm. As though she was trying to sooth Nesta. "I can't feel her. I'm sorry."

"Try harder." Nesta growled and Azriel couldn't stop himself from slipping closer, to stop Nesta if need be.

"Nesta, it's not Lyra's fault." Feyre said, swallowing thickly. Rhysand lay his hand on her back, steadying her as she looked to her sister. "Even if she was close enough, the Cauldron would probably block her from Lyra anyway."

Nesta's grip tightened on Elain's cloak, pulling it toward herself and even as she continued to stare at Lyra, Azriel could see her relenting, see her accepting the truth of Feyre's words. Lyra still held her gaze, her face grave. "I'm sorry." She repeated, her voice small. Nesta only shook her head, hugging that cloak to herself before she turned away.

There was a horrible silence as they headed back toward the tent, the loss of Elain hanging over the group of them like a dark cloud. Azriel looked at Lyra, her shoulders hunched in and arms still wrapped around herself. She was looking between Feyre and Nesta worriedly, lips pulled into a frown.

Nesta sunk into a chair as they came into the main tent, Cassian already there and his eyes on the eldest sister. He was still pale from the blood loss but looked better than even hours before. Rhys pressed a kiss to Feyre's temple before stalking off to speak with the other High Lords and commanders for any information that they could provide to help.

"We'll get her back." Cassian said softly to Nesta, voice still hoarse, but steady.

"No, you won't." Nesta said, shaking her head as she jerked her chin toward the map, the bones and stones still wrapped in a tight circle around Hybern's location. "I saw that army, it's size, who is in it. I saw it and there is no chance of any of you getting into it's heart. Even you." She gave him a dark look, her eyes sweeping briefly over where he had been injured before Lyra had fixed him. "Especially not while you're recovering."

Azriel looked at Lyra, taking in her pale face, her downturned lips, her curling hair. If not for Elain's warning, he would have lost her to the Scorpion all those weeks ago. She would have been hurt, violated again and forced before Hybern. He would have lost her. And not only that, but the middle sister had always been kind to him, to all of them. She had never balked at his shadows, his scars. She was gentle and sweet, like her flowers that she loved so much.

But in Hyberns camp… those monsters would trample and break her.

"I'm getting her back." Azriel said, voice low. Lyra's head jerked up, looking to him for the first time since the tent, her eyes wide. Scared.

"Then you will die." Nesta whispered, her voice flat, broken. Lyra's eyes fluttered at the words, her nails digging into her arm as she stared and stared at him.

"I'm getting her back." He repeated, meeting Nesta's flat look.

He owed Elain, for these precious weeks with Lyra, a gift he wasn't sure he could ever repay. But this would be a start.

"I'm going with you." Feyre said, standing and meeting his eyes. He could only nod, though he fought the urge to turn her down. He knew it was no use, not when she had that determination in her eyes. He'd seen it before, so many times on his High Lady's face. There was no changing her mind when she had that look.

"You'll never get far enough into the camp." Cassian said, watching the two of them worriedly. Lyra was growing paler, her thin fingers shaking, white blue eyes flickering between the two of them.

"I'm going to walk right in." Feyre said smoothly and he watched in fascination as her features shifted, her whole being into the pale face of Ianthe. Everything matched, from her pale skin to her blonde hair to her curving body.

"Shit." Cassian muttered as Nesta shot to her feet.

"They might already know she's dead." Nesta warned, frowning at her sister.

"I need one of your Siphons." Feyre said, though her voice was a perfect replica of Ianthe's and it almost made him shiver. He remembered that horrible, simpering voice from all those years ago, from when she cornered him in the Court of Nightmares, pressing herself to him and running her hands over his body. He had nearly ripped her hand off when she had dipped between his legs and had hissed something about the power their offspring would hold. It was the only time he ever relished scaring away a female.

Azriel pulled one of his Siphons from where it lay in his tent, still connected to him through his own power before tossing it to Feyre. She snatched it, her fingers running over it as she studied it. "Where is the blacksmith?"

Azriel waited outside the tent as Feyre changed into the priestesses' robes and was loaded by both Rhysand and Cassian with weapons to protect herself. He took the time to sharpen Truth Teller, relishing the noise of the metal as he honed it. Lyra had disappeared somewhere when he left to get the robes and he fought the urge to seek her out, to view her face one more time before he left.

Left and maybe never returned.

He wondered what it would do to her, if it would break something in her to have that bond severed. He had never known a pair of mates who had lost the other before the bond had been accepted. He didn't know what it would do to the mate left behind.

Hopefully, Lyra would not find out. He would do all he could to come back to her, even if she didn't want him.

He heard Rhysand murmuring to Feyre in the tent, his voice firm and unwavering. He could feel the time to leave was growing closer and he stood, setting aside the whetstone and putting Truth Teller back at his side.

"Azriel!"

His heart shuttered at the sound of her voice and he whipped his head toward it, stomach turning as he saw her. She was so pale, her eyes still red and as she drew closer, he saw they were lined with fresh tears.

He didn't know what to say as she stood before him, shaking and staring, didn't know what to do with his body. He wanted to grab her too him, to hold her, feel her, smell her one more time but he fought the urge. She wasn't his.

"Az, I…"

The tent pushed open, Rhysand, Feyre and Cassian coming out, but Azriel couldn't take his eyes off Lyra, from the fear and pain on her face. She stared back, her face crumpling slightly when they were interrupted, but she stepped back, lips pressing together tightly as she brushed away a tear that had slipped down her cheek.

"You get them in and out again, Shadowsinger." Rhysand said and Azriel forced his eyes away from Lyra, though something in him broke as he did. Rhys was watching him, eyes fierce and held barely contained panic. "I don't care how many you have to kill to do it. They both come out."

Azriel swallowed and he could feel Lyra still staring, her eyes boring into him. "I swear it, High Lord."

Feyre stepped forward, Ianthe's blonde hair rippling in the breeze, before she reached for his hand and wrapped her warm fingers around them. She squeezed lightly, a silent 'thank you'.

Mor was there, panting and gasping, her eyes wide as she stared between the two of them. He felt Feyre stiffen for half a moment when they caught sight of each other, but he couldn't look between them. He couldn't stop himself from looking one last time at Lyra, to take in her face, all the details of her beauty and every piece of her that he loved so much. She stared back, shaking as she watched him, her eyes still lined with tears that broke his heart.

He had to go now. He had to, or he wasn't sure he would ever leave her.

Feyre's fingers gripped his tighter when he pulled those shadows around them, forced them to winnow toward that camp. He flew them through the night, through the wards and straight into the camp, though forcing his way in felt like trudging through thick water.

He let go of Feyre's fingers as they landed and then forced himself into shadow again, became the darkness of Feyre's own shadow cast along the ground from the campfires lighting the camp. Feyre took a deep breathe, closing her eyes for a brief moment before she straightened and began to fluff out her pale robes, adjusted her circlet and hair. Became the very image of Ianthe, her mannerisms and quirks.

She gripped her flowing robes, pulling them up a bit as she glided toward the camp guards with those bracelets jingling and tinkling to alert her presence. Azriel followed her silently, moving between jumping ahead to check for danger and scout, to coming back to her to make sure she was alright.

There were six guards at the gates and Azriel stilled, heart pounding as he waited for them to either be allowed in or for this all to fall apart. Silence eddied in his head as he waited, ready to jump to protect his High Lady if it went to hell, but to his relief they only glanced at her briefly before they allowed her to breeze past them.

Feyre didn't so much as sigh in relief. She held her head high, that stupid, preening look of Ianthe's still on her face as she continued on.

She kept her face forward, eyes ahead and he could see she was ignoring the chaos around them. The horrid sounds of the camp.

Deadly creatures chained and barking, fires with fae that danced around them, laughing and snapping as they danced, bodies strung up, half dead and soldiers watching then with delight in their dark eyes. This place was pain and torture and death. It made his stomach turn and he prayed to the Mother they had not harmed Elain.

As they went further in, Feyre finally looked to the massive fire that soldiers and creatures danced around. He saw her study it, the light reflecting off Ianthe's eyes and he saw it just a moment before she did.

The humans strung up, dead or almost dead and tortured above the fire.

He reached out quickly, his shadowy hand squeezing her shoulder in warning. He saw her stiffen, saw the horror in Ianthe's face but when she felt that squeeze, she sucked in a breath and steadied herself just as a horrible scream rang out from one of those bodies.

Azriel strained to see, tried to look through the revelry to see who that screamed belong too. If it was Elain…

He tugged at Feyre's fingers, signaling for her to come around the fire, to go closer. She quickly composed herself and began to stroll around the edge, eyes flitting over it all. Azriel could see her struggling to keep up the slow, almost bored walk as they looped around, saw her look up at those bodies and-

Not Elain. Thank the Mother.

There were three of them, Children of the Blessed, all of them young and human and so fragile. Monsters. These were not males or soldiers. They were nothing more than disgusting beasts in Fae skin. Azriel would have gladly killed them all right then.

He could see Feyre struggling with it, struggling to pull herself from that one young, human woman that was still alive and screaming. Azriel wished for nothing more than to take her down, to pull her away from these beasts dancing below her in delight, but they couldn't linger much longer, they needed to find Elain.

"He's been looking for you."

Azriel stiffened as Feyre turned, her eyes wide but easing just a bit when she caught sight of Jurian. He swaggered toward them, adjusting his belt and a dark look on his face. But Azriel now looked beyond him, toward the dais and saw the King of Hybern.

He was in a chair, his head laying on his fist and his dark eyes moved over the scene and watched with a muted amusement. He barely moved, barely blinked when some of his soldiers would turn to toast him or shout out praise to him. Azriel fought the urge to drift up those steps, to slip into those shadows around him and slit his throat right then and there. For his family, for the innocent humans, for Lyra, who he knew would never be safe until that male was dead.

"I have been busy with my sisters." Feyre purred, blinking at Jurian innocently, that smile on her lips. Jurian watched her, amusement glittering in his eyes as they roamed over every inch of Ianthe's face. He paused for the briefest of moments, those human eyes flaring with recognition before it faded and Jurian just stared at her. "Where is she?" Feyre whispered so low he barely heard her.

Jurian plastered a cocky grin on his face, a show for those that danced and moved around them. His face kept in place, a perfect mask as he said, "You've been lusting after me for weeks now. Act like it."

Feyre paused for a brief moment before she took a coy step forward, her curved hip swaying as she lay a pale hand against his forearm and fluttered her eyelashes at him in a way Azriel knew Feyre hated.

"I have trouble believing that's how you won his heart." Jurian snorted, but that grin kept in place.

"Where is she?" Feyre bit out through a coy smile.

"Safe. Untouched."

The words sent a jolt of relief down Azriel's spine. Feyre swayed slightly at the words, but thankfully it looked like another part of her and Jurian's game.

"Not for long. It have him a shock when she appeared before the Cauldron." Jurian whispered, eyes looking out at the revelry. "He had her contained. Came here to brood over what to do with her. And how to make you pay for it."

Feyre stepped closer, pale fingers running over his arm and then came to rest over his heart. "Where. Is. She."

Jurian looked down at her, studied her before he leaned in close and Azriel stiffened as Jurian's lips came close to Feyre's. But then he moved toward the side of her face, near her ear and Azriel fought to hear over the cries and wicked laughter behind them. "Were you smart enough to kill her before you took her skin?"

"She got what she deserved." Feyre hissed, her fingers clenching at Jurian's jacket.

"She's in his tent. Chained with steel and a little spell from his favorite book." Jurian said, before he grabbed Feyre's chin, pulled up her face to look at him. "Come to my tent with me, Ianthe." Jurian said, louder now, allowing those around them to hear the lust lined words. "Let me see what that pretty mouth can do."

Feyre gave a pretty smile back, but Azriel saw her stiffen just a bit as Jurian's hand came to lay against her back. He laughed, fingers running over the leathers and daggers he probably felt there. "Seems like you've already got some steel in you. No need for mine."

"What of the girl on the rack?" Feyre asked, throwing a bright, flirty smile at the human.

"There have been many before her, and many will come after." Jurian said simply, but Azriel saw the darkness in his eyes, the pain it caused him.

"I can't leave her here." Feyre said and Azriel knew the words were both for him and Jurian.

It was dangerous. Dangerous and could waste precious time for them to get away with Elain. Azriel knew it was the right thing to do, he hated that he even had to debate with himself if it was worth risking. But it would take enough to get out Elain and Feyre. To add a human girl, chained up in the middle of those disgusting pricks enjoying her pain… it could very well prove impossible.

"Your sister or her," Jurian hissed as they drew closer to the center of the massive camp. "You won't be able to take two out."

"Get her to me, and I'll make It happen." Feyre commanded, the voice of the High Lady. No room for argument.

"Say you would like to pray before the Cauldon before we retire." Was Jurian's only answer.

Feyre looked at that large tent, took it in for a moment before she stepped back and clasped her hands and bowed her head. "Before we… retire," Feyre looked back up at him through her lashes, smiling. "I should like to pray before the great Cauldron. To give thanks for today's bounty."

Jurian glared at her, adjusting his belt and jerked his head toward the tent. "Make it quick." He ordered, before flashing the guards an irritated look. Two males sympathizing over the annoyance of females. The guards returned the look, their eyes glinting as they looked over Ianthe, that curved body. And Feyre, Mother above, she played the game well because she gave them a smile that promised them a good time. One of them smiled back.

Jurian leaned into Feyre, his lips close to her ear as he whispered, "You have five minutes to get her out. Take her to the western edge – there's a cliff overlooking the river. I'll meet you there." He grinned when Feyre looked back at him, and then glanced toward the shadows, toward him. "If you hear screaming, don't panic. I hope you can carry three, Shadowsinger."

Then he looked back at Feyre, the smile slipping from his lips. "Save a dagger for your own heart. If they catch you alive, the king will…" He shook his head and the words had a shiver running down Azriel's spine. "Don't let them catch you alive."

Feyre slipped inside, Azriel a heartbeat behind her and slipped from the shadows to stand by side. He quickly jerked his chin toward a curtain in the back and he tried to ignore the power that leaked out of the Cauldron, the same kind that had him shivering all those months ago.

He supposed he was thankful for the horrid thing in a way. Lyra had come to him from it, though the Book and whoever this mysterious female was, seemed to be the ones that had brought her specifically.

Feyre began one of the priestesses' prayers, her voice carrying toward the door and the guards that waited outside. He followed her as they moved around the various furniture in the tent, until they reached that curtain and pulled back to reveal Elain.

She looked so small, so fragile gagged and tied up by those magicked chains. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at them, her eyes flitting frantically from him to Feyre…

She pulled back a bit at the sight of Ianthe, recognition sparking in her eyes and Feyre quickly shifted back to herself and Elain slumped in relief, eyes fluttering as she stared at her sister. Feyre continued that chant, the words lost on Azriel before he knelt down and gently pulled that cloth from Elain's mouth. "Are you hurt?"

She quickly shook her head and he heard her heart hammering against her chest, saw the disbelief in her eyes as she took him in. "You came for me?" She asked, her voice soft. He nodded, offering her a quick smile.

"Hurry." Feyre hissed, before launching again into that prayer.

Azriel drew on his power, concentrating and focusing it on the bonds that held Elain's hands together. But it dissipated in the air, not even leaving a scratch on that metal. Azriel wasn't sure if it was the magic that held them or his own lack of strength after recovering from the battle today, but nothing happened. Feyre's jaw clenched and she quickly moved closer, trying to draw on her own power, Helion's power, but Azriel knew she wasn't in much better shape then him. She struggled to pull it up, her face scrunched as she tried and tried-

"We don't have time." Azriel warned her, his voice sharp as he jerked his head toward the door. "He's coming."

Several screams sounded outside the tent, making Feyre start. Azriel leaned down, grabbing Elain and wrapping her arms around his neck. She stared up at him, her eyes still wide as she shrank into him. "Hold tight and don't make a sound." He whispered and she nodded, that delicate face hardening with resolve.

Feyre was undoing the robes, pushing them off and letting them flutter to the ground before she grabbed for some knives, holding them tightly. "Out the back?" She asked, jerking her chin toward it.

"Get ready to run." He warned her. Feyre nodded, her heart pounding and she glanced once more to her sister, making sure she was ready. Azriel couldn't help but admire Elain as she lifted her chin, her resolve holding. "Run, and don't stop. We sprint for the western edge, the cliff."

"If Jurian's not there with the girl in time-" Feyre whispered urgently, worry filling her eyes. Azriel knew she wouldn't allow them to leave without her, wouldn't let that innocent girl to die.

I couldn't live with myself if I could have helped one of you or the other humans or people in my own world and did nothing.

Lyra would not have been able to walk away from that girl either. She had come to this world of strangers and now fought to defend them, though she owed them nothing. His mate, that beautiful, strong, loving female would not have let that girl die here.

"Then you will go." Azriel finally answered, meeting Feyre's eyes. "I'll get her."

The growling outside was drawing closer, the sound making his hair rise on the back of his neck. He took a breath, readying himself before-

"Now."

With a blaze of blue, the back of the tent turning to dust and they ran, bursting through before the guards could even catch on to what was happening. Azriel pulled in the shadows around them, held them in place with all his strength and thanked the Mother that the guards looked past them and only gave a look of confusion toward the blown apart back.

They ran, quick and silent and he gritted his teeth to hold his shadows in place. And when he looked up, he cursed as he saw the first leaky streaks of light coming up in the sky.

"Hurry." Azriel whispered, "The shadows won't last long."

There was a howl behind them and it seemed to signal that the camp had realized what had been done. That the King realized what they had done. Those monstrous hounds would come soon because he may have been able to hide them from sight, but he couldn't hide their scents.

"Faster." He growled, heart pounding. He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or Feyre more.

Feyre pushed and he saw her eyes alight as they drew close to a weapons rack. She snatched a cache of arrows and a bow, quickly knocking and arrow, her breath fast and rapid as they turned around a tent and then-

She fired, the bow snapping and Azriel saw one of those creatures fall to her arrow. She nocked another quickly as the thing fell, that arrow having torn through its throat. But there were still three more of them, snarling and growling after them.

And they weren't alone. The whole camp was waking, other soldiers and commanders racing along with the hounds. They still couldn't see them, but they knew they were there and they fought to find them and stop them.

Then Azriel heard the arrows, the air around them quivering as they headed toward them and he threw out a shield, hissing when those ash arrows hit it. It held in place, but with the shadows blew out, revealing them to both the hounds and Hybern soldiers closing in around them. Azriel looked back toward the cliff, taking in the closing distance between them and that cliff edge. He caught sight of the human girl, her arms wrapped around herself and shaking as she stared at them, eyes wide.

"What intrepid thieves." Azriel fought off a growl at the sound of that voice, the words coming from all around them. "How shall I punish you?"

Azriel pushed, his legs burning as he sprinted toward that cliff. It held freedom, his family, Lyra. He would get back to all of them if he just reached that damned cliff edge.

"Get her out, Azriel." Feyre cried, her voice a harsh pant. "I'll get the other."

"We're all-" He started.

"That's an order!" Feyre growled, that command of the High Lady in his voice. He tried to fight against it, for her, his friend and for his brother. "You need to-"

Blood splattered as an arrow found it's way into Feyre's shoulder, sending her stumbling for a half a moment. Azriel growled, cursing himself for allowing it to slip past his shields as she fell, hard and fast. He swore, faltering too but Elain was squirming in his arms, crying out for her sister and the hounds were so close-

Feyre sent an arrow out toward another hound and it found its mark, the creature crashing to the ground and tumbling before it lay dead. When it fell, he caught sight of the King of Hybern, walking slowly toward them with a bow clutched in his hands. He looked at that arrow in Feyre's shoulder, a small smile quirked on his lips as he took in his work.

"Torturing you would be so dull." He said, his voice grating against Azriel's ears. "At least, the traditional sort of torture. How Rhysand shall rage. How he shall panic. His mate, at last come to see me."

He walked closer and closer, slow and calm. At ease, for he believed they would never make it out.

"And my pretty, little Lyra." The king purred, the words filling Azriel with both icy rage and terrible fear. "Will she weep when I cut the wings from her Shadowsinger? Will she rage when I rip up her precious bastard?"

The snarling of the hounds and a cry from Elain pulled Azriel back and he snarled when one of them pounced on Feyre. She fumbled, putting the bow out to protect herself and the creature ripped it from her grasp and with one snap of it's jaw it was broken in two. The creature snarled, its head shaking before it tossed the wood aside. Feyre went for one of her knife's, yanking it out but then there was a wild roar and Azriel's stared with wide eyes as Tamlin in his beast form launched at the creatures.

He pulled them off Feyre, the things growling and snapping in protest as Feyre stared in shock. "Tamlin…" Feyre gasped, shaking on the ground before Tamlin's green eyes met hers and his massive head jerked toward Azriel.

A silent warning, urging his former love to run.

She was up, finding her footing and Azriel reached for her, gripping her collar tightly as he sent his magic over her, sealing up that wound as he had for Cassian on the battlefield.

"You need to fly." Azriel growled, panting as he looked over to where the king resumed moving toward them. He had paused only briefly at Tamlin's betrayal and Azriel could see, could feel his swirling, vengeful anger in the air. Closing in on them. "We need to get airborne. Can you make it?"

He saw her hesitate, just briefly and he knew what she was thinking. She had never been able to hold herself aloft like that, had struggled to keep herself in the air. But then determination flashed in her blue grey eyes, her jaw clenching before wings began to form on her back, spreading…

Tamlin let out a yelp behind them and then another horrible roar. More of the creatures were on him, fighting and clawing at him.

Azriel nodded to Feyre, turning to push ahead and he began to flap his own wings as he heard Feyre follow, pushing toward that cliff. He drew closer and closer to the cliff, Elain holding tight to him.

"Grab onto him!" Elain cried, warning the trembling human. She stared and stared, terror on her face as she took them in. "If you want to live, do it now!"

Elain's yells seemed to wake her from her terror for she finally opened her arms to him, that cloak fluttering to the ground. Azriel grabbed her to him, heard her grunt as he held onto her as best he could while he took to the skies. Elain helped him, grabbing at the girl and holding her as best she could with those chains around her wrists. His wings flapped, struggling to hold them in the air and-

Horrible, sharp pain erupted in his back as he heard a snarl behind him, felt the impact of one of those beast's land against him. Its claws ran down his back, flesh and blood tearing with it and Azriel couldn't stop the cry that was ripped from his throat.

But he kept his wings beating, kept the two females in his arms aloft. He thought of Lyra with each flap, her beautiful face, her smile, the way her fingers felt in his as he fought to keep himself upright. He had to get back to her, to see her again. He would not allow himself to leave her unprotected, would not leave her alone to face the threat of the King.

Elain kicked out, her foot connecting with the creature. She lashed out again, a fierce look on her beautiful face as she kicked the beast's eye, its face again and then it fell from him. It gave a high-pitched yelp, those talons releasing him and then fell, twisting and snarling as it plunged toward its death.

Azriel felt the heat of the blood as it ran down his back, his shredded wings. It was pain like he hadn't felt in a long time, but he fought to push it down and away, just like he had when his father and brothers would torture him. He sent his power over the wounds, sealing them until he could get back.

He would get back. He would see his family again, his mate.

Feyre was still running, those wings flapping desperately as she drew closer to the cliff. Those wings moved, struggling to get her airborne and she met his eyes, fear shinning there. But she kept pushing, her feet coming off the ground just a bit before falling back again. She tried again, those mighty wings flapping over and over.

A beast made it's way free of Tamlin, launching itself toward Feyre and his heart thundered in his eyes as he watched her. "Faster!" He cried, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Push up!"

She kept running, kept pushing, drawing closer and closer to him. He shouted orders to her, the last steps between her and the cliff so damned close.

The King sent two arrows toward them, for Feyre or him and Elain, he wasn't sure. But he blocked them this time, the ash hitting his blue shields and causing them to dip inward. But they held.

Feyre kept coming, pulling up a bit only to crash down again. 10 steps. She beat and beat her wings, her footsteps pounding against the ground. 5 steps. Wind seemed to gust toward her, helping her as she drew closer and closer and then-

"Bank!" He roared as he saw those beasts coming toward her. She did as he ordered, swinging out wide and those creatures missed her. They went down toward the ravine, meeting the same death as the beast that had shredded him.

Another arrow from the king, tipped in magic, hit his shield and he grunted as pain hit him. "Fly." He cried and she struggled to rise, but finally she got herself upright and began to fly. Azriel turned, groaning in pain at the movement and the human let out a fearful sound as he dipped a couple of feet. But he grit his teeth, forcing himself back up and leveled himself out.

More arrows flew at them, hitting his shield and it collapsed inward just a bit, but held in place enough to block them. He and Feyre flew, pushing toward the wards and he struggled to get out of them, his pack stinging in pain.

There was a flash of light, just like the night they escaped from Hybern and ripped open a hole in the wards. Azriel speared toward it, Feyre just behind him and as soon as he was cleared, he grabbed Feyre's hand and winnowed away.

Azriel felt light, his body numb and warm as he struggled to pull himself out of the hazy sleep that was pulling him down. He felt something familiar calling to him, a thrum of warmth and light that was so familiar. His mind was buried, struggling to pull out of the murky depths it was underneath.

He pushed, forcing himself upward. As he drew closer feeling came back and he felt fingers in his hair, running through it tenderly and the scent of honey filled his nose.

Lyra. Lyra was here.

He forced himself toward consciousness, toward her. He needed to see her, to know she was alright.

That hand was so soft through his hair. A gentle touch.

Pain hit him, but it was not the pain of ripped flesh and torn wings. The muscles in his back ached, but he could feel that the wounds from that hound's talons were gone, healed from Lyra magic. He lay on his stomach, his wings splayed out but intact.

Those fingers stilled in his hair. A beat of silence as his eyes fluttered, fought to open. "Azriel?" She whispered, her voice the most amazing sound.

Her face was the first thing he saw, pale, drawn, eyes still lined in red, but she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He met those eyes, felt her fingers stroke his hair and watched as a tear slipped down her cheek. "Az." She choked out, a shaky breath leaving her before a heartbreakingly lovely smile spread across her face.

"Lyra…" He whispered, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. A broken sob left her at the sound of his voice, more tears falling as she stared at him. She pulled her fingers from his hair and they dropped to his hand, wrapping around it as she leaned close to him.

"I was so afraid." She said, voice shaking and fingers tight around his. "I thought you…"

"I'm sorry." He whispered, thumb running over her warm knuckles. His throat stung, his back ached and whatever they had given him pulled him toward sleep again, but he fought it. He needed her to understand, to know…

"It's okay, Azriel." She said, taking a deep breath and wiping at her tears with her free hand. She smiled at him, but it was tight, strained. "I understand. It's okay. Just rest."

"Lyra…" He swallowed thickly, trying to focus on her face, to keep his eyelids open. "I want…"

"Shhhh." She soothed, her fingers slipping back into his hair, gentle and calming. "Sleep. I'm here."

He was falling again, being pulled back under. He tried so hard to stay with her, but eventually it became to much and he was asleep once more, her scent in his nose and those fingers stoking his hair. Despite his worry, his fear from what had happened between them, he felt peace as he sank back into the darkness. He was back home.

Back with his mate.