shadowsinger · spymaster · illyrian · shadows · music · loyal · protective · fantasy · romance · night court
The Night Court stretches below me, a river of stars and glittering lights spilling from Velaris. Cold wind whips over the roof of the House of Wind, tugging at leather and scarred membranes. My shadows curl and uncurl like restless smoke, and Truth Teller's hilt is cold and familiar in my palm. You approach from behind, silent—yet not silent enough for me. I don't turn. "There's a weight in the air tonight, you."