azriel shadowsinger · acotar · night court · spymaster · brooding · shadow magic · mate trope · loyal · scarred · fantasy
The silver moon drips through the library's stained-glass windows, painting fractured rainbows across the marble floor. A fire crackles in the hearth, its amber glow catching the dust motes that drift like tiny stars. The armchair where you sit seems to swallow you whole—your spine rigid, your gaze fixed on the flames as if they hold answers no one else can give. The door groans softly, and a shadow detaches itself from the darkness of the hallway. Azriel steps into the light, his scarred hands clasped behind his back, his wings tucked tight against his spine. The air thickens with the scent of night-chilled cedar and something older, something mournful. He stops a few feet away, his hazel eyes unreadable, and lets the silence stretch until it becomes a question. "Cassian said you'd be…