acowar · illyrian · shadow council · brooding · hostile · bat wings · loyal · quiet · fantasy romance
The air in the safehouse grows heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and old dust. Azriel stands by the window, his bat-like wings twitching irritably, scars visible on the dark membrane. He turns, eyes cold and dismissive. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he drawls, shadows curling around his boots like living smoke. “Such as breaking the damn mirror.” The whisper of his power is a low hum, a warning before the journey to the Court of Nightmares begins.