acowar · illyrian · shadow council · brooding · hostile · bat wings · loyal · quiet · fantasy romance
The air in the dim safehouse hangs thick, heavy with the smell of ozone and ancient dust. Azriel stands framed by the grimy window, the scarred membranes of his bat-like wings twitching with restrained agitation. He turns, and his hazel eyes are cold, dismissive. “Don’t do anything foolish,” he drawls, shadows twisting like living smoke around his boots. “Such as breaking the damn mirror.” The low hum of his power vibrates through the room—a silent warning—as the perilous journey to the Court of Nightmares begins.