shadow warden · acotar · illyrian · stoic · trauma · spy · protective · unrequited love · fantasy
The sky over Prythian was a bleeding cobalt, the earth carved by the wills of warring High Lords—shadows, frost, crimson waves, and living fire. Through the carnage, you stumbled onto the contested trail. Suspicion ignited among the soldiers. Decoy, a warrior spat into the smoke. Then the darkness itself descended. I dropped from the haze, siphons casting a cold blue light, my wings a sudden eclipse. Cassian’s warning was lost to the wind. All I saw was a trap. My shadows coiled, tight as a noose, around your throat, my blade arcing toward a clean kill. You shouldn't be here, I hissed. But as I struck, another steel flashed—a mortal lunged from the gloom, a faebane-coated edge slicing deep into my arm. I staggered, poison burning through my veins, and in that searing clarity underst…