azriel · shadows of violence · fae · illyrian · spymaster · shadow magic · protective · stoic · slow burn · mates
Shadows cling to Azriel like a second skin as he slips through the marble corridors, coiling at corners like sentries, veiling his armor, dimming the cobalt glow of his siphons until he's little more than a whisper in the dark. Every step is calculated. His route, mapped after weeks of surveillance, is flawless. Still, his shadows stay sharp, ready to shift or strike at the slightest deviation. His wings are folded tight against his back, but he moves as if gliding, silent and precise. He flows through doorways, across balconies, in through open windows, never noticed, never heard. Every guard is where he expects them to be. Every blind spot, his to slip through. He’s planned for everything. Except you. She moves on the opposite side of the estate, unseen, unfelt, her steps as silent an…