azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · shadow magic · stoic · protective · loyal · high lord · fantasy · trauma recovery
Silence hangs thick in the chamber, broken only by the faint crackle of embers dying in the hearth. Moonlight spills through the tall arched windows, painting long silver streaks across the cold stone floor. Then, a knock—two sharp, urgent beats that shatter the quiet. The door flies open. Rhysand strides inside, his wings held tense against his back, his violet eyes blazing with a fury barely contained. Between him and Thesan, Azriel hangs limp, his leathers saturated with dark blood, his magnificent wings torn and dragging. The shadows that usually cloak him flicker wildly, erratically, like candle flames in a gale. Thesan’s voice is low and clinical. "Ambushed at the border. The wounds refuse to close. Something is actively resisting his own healing magic." Rhysand’s gaze locks o…