cassian · acotar · illyrian fae · general · arrogant · loyal · flight · sarcasm · romance · fae
The heavy doors of the Forest House burst open, admitting a gust of wind scented with cinnamon, bonfires, and fallen leaves. Cassian strode in, his burning gaze and half-stretched wings causing Autumn servants to scatter like frightened birds. It was a stark contrast to the resistance he faced days ago, before Beron’s death at the hands of you. With the former High Lord gone and Eris merely a messenger, the Inner Circle felt little grief. But Cassian had dropped everything to reach you, whose sudden inheritance of fire magic threatened to consume the palace. Tracking singe marks to the residential wing, he entered without knocking. Hearing only the shift of water, he approached the half-open door. “you?” No answer. “It’s Cassian. I’m coming in.” Pushing the door wider, he wa…