Velaris - House of Wind - Hour 1
Morrigan, Azriel and Cassian waited in silence for Amren to arrive. It wasn't clear what she had been doing, that was between her and Rhysand, but now, the trio was certain she was tearing through time and space itself to return to them.
Rhysand was clear in his instructions to them: remain in Velaris or risk exposure, invasion. But for how long? And what exactly had happened for him to go to such extreme measures of protection?
Morrigan was nearly vibrating with tension. Needing to release some of the burning energy she felt coursing through her veins, she pushed back from her seat at the table, the force of her movements almost knocking her chair to the ground. Cassian and Azriel eyed her from their own seats but didn't move. How could they just sit there, she wondered, hands diving into her hair and tugging at the roots. In the back of her mind, she knew that they both had endured rigorous military training that helped them harness themselves not just physically but mentally as well. Their calm facades were the product of centuries of hard won composure in the face of brutal assault.
The only sound in the room was her frenetic pacing and the popping of burning firewood. Back and forth she went along the threshold of the wide hearth. She felt the seconds ticking by like bones snapping inside her body, excruciating, one by one. Every moment felt endless. A scream was lodging itself in her throat, and had Amren not exploded into the room at that very moment, Morrigan would have deafened the lot of them.
Cassian and Azriel stood quickly. Amren walked on swift feet to meet them at the table. "What has happened?" She asked, tone frosted over with ice.
There was still a trail of blood, dried now, running down her neck. Morrigan knew she had a similar one, same with Az and Cass. The force with which Rhysand had entered their minds had been nothing short of brutal. One minute she was reading a book in the drawing room of the townhouse, the next she was writhing on the carpet, Rhysand's voice booming like that of a god inside her head.
"We know as much as you," Cassian said and crossed his arms against his chest.
Amren reached the table, silver eyes glinting like the honed edge of a dagger. She stared out past the room, into the blackness of the night beyond. The wind had died down, even all the way up at the summit. The muted lights of Velaris twinkled below, the residents blessedly unaware that their High Lord had been taken prisoner.
In Rhysand's absence, Amren shouldered the mantel of ruler of the Night Court, making Mor her second in command. Though neither Amren nor Mor could venture beyond the limits of Velaris in order to execute anything in the Hewn City. There would be chaos, Mor thought with a pit in her stomach.
Amren drew her attention back to the room as Morrigan approached the table. She pressed her palms agains the smooth wooden surface and looked at each of them in kind.
"Alright," she began, her voice softer than Mor had heard it in a long time. "We begin with what we know. Rhysand is trapped Under the Mountain. Amarantha's party was a ruse. His powers are gone. Our continued presence in Velaris is mandatory in order to keep Rhysand's shields active over the city." She paused. "That is what we know." Again, she locked eyes with each of them. They each took turns nodding, faces stoic and pale.
"The list of what we don't know is expansive. Let's start with the top three most crucial details we need in order to execute a plan to move forward. Any suggestions?"
"What is her ultimate goal?" Cassian offered. "War? Conquest? If her actions have been sanctioned by Hybern, we're looking at all-out war again. Hard to believe that after a peace treaty and trade deal from the king he would betray his word so quickly. Has she broken away from Hybern completely and now endeavors to conquer Prythian for herself?" Cassian's mind had always been geared toward war. As well it should be as General of the Night Court's armies. Amren nodded solemnly, considering.
"Who else has been affected by her trickery? Every High Lord in Prythian was in attendance tonight. Did she take everyone's powers? Who are our allies?" Morrigan asked.
Amren nodded and turned to Azriel. He was silent for a long moment more, his face half concealed in shadows, though they moved slowly, undulating almost calmly around him like a fine vapor.
"How do we get him out." His voice was hard but low enough that Mor almost had to strain to hear. Another loaded silence fell over the group as they let his question sink in. Perhaps this was the first time Mor had allowed herself to truly understand the gravity of the situation outside of just her sheer panicked surprise.
Rhysand was gone - trapped. And they had no idea what kind of atrocities he was suffering. They had no idea when or if he would ever come back. How could they possibly hope to rescue him when they themselves were trapped in Velaris, an action taken by Rhysand's very own hand. Had their protection really superseded any and all hopes that they would be able to rescue him? Did he really care so little for his own safety?
Instead of being grateful for his protection, even under what Mor could only imagine was extreme duress, she was furious. He had effectively cut them off at the knees, chained them to the safety of a hidden city while he rotted away underneath a sacred mountain.
She locked eyes with Azriel and could physically feel the burning intensity that churned in the glowing hazel depths. He was clenching and unclenching his fists. Cassian shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, and she could see Amren's mind working in much the same way her own had.
The very real and painful reality of the situation slammed into them. It nearly took Mor's breath away. Azriel's question clanged through her mind like a death knell.
How do we get him out.
How do we get him out.
How do we get him out.
The energy in the room shifted from nervous speculation to hard-edged determination. She felt the shift in herself at the same time she saw everyone's faces darken with fury.
Amren sensed it too. She straightened and put her hands behind her back. "Morrigan, find out how we can commune with the Hewn City. We'll need to keep our trade lines open and our orders exacting, especially now. Cassian, ready the armies. Train them however you can reach them. Prepare them to be in peak physical condition. Moreover, I need an ironclad battle plan, if the situation devolves to war." She took a breath and turned to Azriel. "Find out everything you can about what's just happened Under the Mountain. Leave no stone unturned. We need a plan and we need it now," she said.
Everyone at the table nodded, but remained rooted in place. Amren blinked once, twice. Mor could tell she was struggling to find the words to convey the depths of their dismay, of her own dismay. She never was one for an exuberant display of emotions. But that didn't mean she couldn't feel them deeply, in her own way.
"We will get him back," she hissed suddenly. Her voice echoed as if spoken from a million different points in the room. The lights dimmed and flickered ominously and the silence that followed hollowed out Morrigan's stomach. Amren's silver eyes narrowed to eerie, animalistic slits and they unfocused slightly, as if she had slipped into a version of herself that existed on a higher plane. The beast that always prowled beneath her skin surfaced briefly, and the sight of it raised every hair on the back of Mor's neck.
Amren shook herself, shedding the skin of what she once was and perhaps longed now to be in order to save Rhysand. "Now go," she said, returned to herself.
The three of them left as commanded. Azriel and Cassian launched themselves into the night sky from the balcony, quickly becoming nothing more than dark smears against the star-speckled expanse of black. Mor moved to winnow from the balcony, but looked over her shoulder at the last second. Amren was bent over the table, the sheet of her cropped black hair shielding her face from view like an oil slick over turbulent seas. But her shoulders sagged just a fraction, her hands were clawed against the wood.
Mor knew as she disappeared into the ether, that every second of the long night ahead would be hard fought by each one of them. But as she closed her eyes, all she could see was Rhysand's face as he left earlier that evening. The gentle way he reassured her that he would be back and he would be alright. The way he looked as he disappeared into the darkness, almost pained.
She was gripped with a searing need to save him, and she knew they would, all four of them, do horrible things to get him back.