Azriel was on his daily flight around Velaris's borders when he sensed it. The shadows that whispered to him sang, sighing and praising a single name. Persephone.
Darkness swirled in a small clearing below, even the trees recoiling, their leaves curled and browned, grass dead around a girl lying motionless in the centre of the clearing, flowers withering, everything dying around her. That darkness sang to the shadowsinger.
As he kneeled before her, he saw her face was painted white, with black lines like a skull, and intricate coloured patterns. There were bloodred flowers in her blonde-brown hair, lighter and softer than the Archeron sisters'. She stirred, blood pouring from her mouth, her arm, her-
Wings.
Beautiful, scaled black wings, darker than the impenetrable darkness Bryaxis lived in beneath the library, with the occasional snow-white scales like stars. One was shredded, a great tear through the other.
She wore a brown jacket stained with blood and mud, over a black top that revealed some of her skin, cut deep and bleeding heavily, and long fabric pants with animal print. It wasn't a style he recognised. Her eyes fluttered open, silvery-grey and swirling with shadows, like Amren's. They studied the spymaster. "Who are you," he breathed, brushing strands of her hair from her face, that darkness dancing around her, ringing her pupils like black fire. His shadows all whispered in answer, Persephone Spears. Queen of Death. Azriel scooped her up without hesitation, his scarred hands right at home amongst the blood and dirt on her skin, her clothes. He took to the skies, flapping hard, back to the townhouse, to the rest of his family, the girl never showing an ounce of emotion on her painted-skull face.
When he set her down on one of the couches, she'd lost consciousness, her wounds even worse from the flight back.
Feyre and Rhysand were the first to see her, and the former immediately got to work, seemingly summoning her second-eldest sister, her and Elain cleaning the girl's wounds, but not touching her face. As if the paint were an immoveable mask.
Darkness sat on her wings, her fingertips, lashing at any who got too close. Not to harm, but… study. As though it were tasting their flesh, finding out who and what they were. The girl possessed the slightly arched ears and beautiful features of the Fae, but… there was something Other about her. Queen of Death and darkness and fear, the shadows sang to Azriel. He almost shuddered at their cold caress.
Rhysand noticed, shifting from his spot beside his mate. "She'll be fine, brother," he told Azriel. "Feyre and I will take her to a spare room and get Madja tomorrow, just in case."
Something in Azriel's chest eased at that.
"Ah, finally bringing home a female, are we, Az?" Cassian's laughing voice teased, as he and Mor entered the room. He let out a low wolf-whistle as he saw the girl. "Geez, where'd you find her?"
Azriel made a vulgar gesture at his brother-in-arms, and the girl let out a shuddering breath, wincing and opening her eyes.
She took in the room, her eyes dragging over like it was an effort to stay awake. Finally, she met the eyes of everyone in the room, and finally Azriel. She let out a shocked laugh. "No way. Dad was right. He- He did it. How?" Azriel's heart beat a little faster, worried. "What do you mean?" He asked softly. The soft-spoken spymaster. He wasn't known for a loud, bold personality like Rhys and Mor, or his jokes, like Cassian. Nor was he known for kindness or anything like the Archeron sisters had. He was just… Azriel.
Rhysand's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" He repeated, as the girl said nothing.
She blinked, finding the High Lord's eyes. Unflinching. A small grin sliding across her face. "My father. He… I don't know how, but he sent me here. To Prythian. From… It's a long story."
Rhysand folded his arms. "We have time. Fae. Immortal. Don't you know that?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, duh, but still. I don't expect you all to believe it." Her grey eyes flickered to Azriel, and she smiled. "Though I guess it isn't all bad."
Cassian snorted. "You've got yourself a fan, brother."
But Amren's eyes narrowed. "Where are you from, girl?"
"Another world, like you. Earth. We roam elsewhere, too, but that's- that's our main world we work at. How do I explain this? My father is… Well… He's Death. I'm Persephone, next in line to the throne of the Underworld and the Beyond. Or… I was."
Elain, wrapping the girl's bleeding arm, stilled. "'Heir of fire and darkness'," she muttered, eyes wide.
They met her sister's, and Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a silent conversation.
Finally, Rhysand nodded. "Come with me, Persephone."
She stood, limping towards him slightly. "I prefer Perce," she shrugged.
They left the room, Feyre sighing and hugging her sister tightly. Cassian, Mor and Amren went to wherever they made excuses to be, but Azriel stayed. He waited. And waited.
Rhysand and Perce returned hours later, the girl's hair tied back with a leather band and her wounds wrapped neatly, but the High Lord fumed and stormed out of the house without a word, Feyre following him.
Perce tested her shoulder, moving her arm and wincing. She swore under her breath, then tensed as Azriel took her arm in his hands and gently rubbed her shoulder. A sharp intake of breath was her only response.
"My shadows… They like you," he said, and she smiled.
"They always do, no matter what world I'm in. The shadows."
Azriel didn't let go, and she made no move to step away from him, either.
She continued, "Every time a soul passes on to either realm of Death, Father takes me with him, so I can see what I'll one day rule over. Death comes for everyone, even Death himself. When he chooses, he can leave his existence, and reside in the Beyond for eternity. With my mother." The darkness, the fire in her eyes, guttered slightly. "She was killed not long ago. It was- I was right there with her, when it happened. They killed her," she breathed, tears sliding down the face-paint. She took a deep breath, rolling her neck. "After that, Father and I started talking. My family have been hated amongst… all species for longer than anyone knows, and he knows it isn't safe for me. So… we came to the decision to send me to another world, where we've never been. I- I chose the land I'd only read about, the books written on here. Prythian." She laughed. "And now I'm talking to Azriel. Holy Hades' Ember!"
Azriel immediately loved her laugh. It transformed her sadness into something beautiful, though she seemed to stay flawless and alluring no matter what she felt. "What do you mean, books on Prythian?" He asked finally, and she scratched a spot by her ear, flakes of paint sticking to her black-painted nails.
Her left hand was made entirely of bone, nothing but air between the bones themselves, with swirls of more bright paint and intricate carvings etched into them. "Well… Can you take me to the library? It might be easier to explain if I can show you what I mean."
Azriel nodded, flaring his wings, and Perce gave a half-shrug.
"Geez, they're gorgeous," she smiled, reaching out with her bone-hand, her uninjured one. "May I?"
Azriel nodded, hesitant, and her fleshless fingers brushed over the membrane of his wings while she admired them. "Wow. I love them. I'm the only one who has them, out of me and Father, but my mother had wings just like these. I think- She might have been like an Illyrian."
Azriel nodded again, heart pounding at her touch as he held back a sigh.
She withdrew her hand, smiling sheepishly. "You half-enjoyed that, didn't you?" She teased, smiling and flapping her own wings once, shaking them slightly before folding them back in.
It seemed such an unconscious thought that for a moment, Azriel wasn't sure if she knew she'd done it. But he extended his hand in invitation, and she took it, letting him scoop her up in his arms and fly to the library beneath the House of Wind.
When they landed, Perce searched through rows of books like she knew exactly what she was doing, despite never having been there before.
Her eye caught the pit at the bottom of the library, the darkness that Bryaxis resided in, and she smiled. Smiled! She bowed to the pit, crossing one leg behind the other and bending low, arms and wings stretched wide, head bowed, before she straightened again and looked over her shoulder to find Azriel looking.
"What?" She laughed, then snapped her head back to the shelf and pulled a book to her, darkness in her hands as she limped back to Azriel. "Here. It's- Made up. Fiction. A story."
He'd never admit it, but the book she held in front of her was one Azriel had read countless times. It was a romance, and his favourite, and Perce was explaining things.
"So the Court series is what I read, the world of Prythian and with all of you in it. Like characters. Except it's real. Like, not that Dad sent me into the book, but to Prythian. Make sense?"
Azriel dipped his head in a nod. Somehow, he was even quieter than usual.
She sighed. "Man, this place is awesome. Any warnings? I just want to know if there's anything besides- Don't make deals with anyone, and don't drink the faerie wine." She grinned.
"Just- Maybe just stay with me or Rhys for a while, especially while you're healing," Azriel told her, and she nodded.
"Cool. So… okay, now it's just awkward."
Azriel smiled, taking in the paint on her face, tiny specks missing on one side of her face. "What's with the paint? Not even Feyre or Elain would touch it earlier."
She scratched the flaking bits, making larger gaps and revealing moon-white skin. "Just a family thing. And culture. Before I… left, we went to a place called Mexico, for Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. Obviously, Father and I go every year, and I always use face paint. We live there, too, so it's great. I have a mask somewhere, but I don't think I have it here. I'll have to make one."
Azriel got to study the paint while Perce looked at books. Purple, flower-like circles around her eyes, black on her nose, and a spider-web-like diadem painted on her forehead with a purple teardrop. Her mouth was painted the same shade as the rest of her face, and with black lines that extended past the corners of her mouth. Flowers sat like a crown on her head, and some were still woven into her hair, simple and ornate silver piercings alternating together and lining her ears. On her bone-arm, on her forearm, one carving was deeper than the others, and painted. Like a tattoo. It was a heart, an arrow shot through it as it dripped blood, with symbols inside. Words.
Thank the Mother that Azriel's shadows whispered their meaning to him. Día de Muertos, 2005.
"What does that mean? That tattoo," Azriel blurted.
Perce glanced at him, then down at her arm. "My birthday. But I guess it's different here. I'll have to figure it out, no worries. Oh! Here, I love this one!" She pulled out a book, opening it and inhaling deeply, smiling. "I love book smells. It reminds me of home. The Beyond and the Underworld have the best libraries. I wish I could see them again."
"Why did you leave? Why come here, to Prythian?" Azriel asked, as her wings flared and shook again.
"Um… It's a long story. Again, I mean it. Like… maybe I'll tell you later." Her eyes were sad, and she rubbed her tattoo with her thumb.
More symbols adorned her arm. 'Even when the sun fades, I will always remember the goodness you have done for us all. You care for our people -Everyone, in all worlds- in a way no-one else can. Every time you feel alone, read this. We love you. Your Father himself confided in me that you'll make the most wonderful Queen of Death any world has ever known. Shine bright, Star of Frost and Light. M.V.D'
Her other wrist was inked with a black bracelet of flowers and small skulls, and on her shoulder was a gaping skull with one eye replaced for a flower, countless petals gleaming in the faelights. Flowers, skulls, symbols, clouds… all sorts of markings lay on her flesh and bone.
She caught him looking. "Each tattoo represents a soul I've known who I've done something for. Like… getting medicine and healing the sick, just 'good deeds' as Father calls them. The soul gets to choose what the tattoo is, so that's why there's so many skulls and flowers. You know, just a bit of a laugh." She pulled down the sleeves of her jumper, hiding her arms and pulling the ends of the sleeves over her hands to block them from sight, too. "There is one tattoo I love most," she smiled, pulling her flesh hand back out of her sleeve. On the back of her hand was a tattoo of some mountains, three stars above them. "It was my idea. I'd just read the series and loved the Night Court, so… one day, when Father was Soul-Searching, I just… inked it onto my hand using my magic." She shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, pulling up the hood of her jumper, hiding most of her hair.
"Why don't we walk around Velaris?" Azriel asked. "If you like, it might be a chance to see what you've only read about."
Perce shrugged again, grinning. "Sure. Lead the way, shadowsinger."