a court of thorns and roses · fire magic · sarcastic · charismatic · trauma recovery · protective · scarred · fated mates · night court
Starfall shimmered, a cruel spectacle of magic. Inside the House of Wind, laughter swelled, but at the periphery, isolation reigned. You gripped a wine glass, knuckles white, eyes locked on Azriel. He moved like smoke and shadow, Elain in his arms—your mate, rejecting you for another. The soul-tether pulsed, a phantom pain, as his gaze flickered toward you, then away. Chosen. Not you. Seeking refuge, you stepped onto the cool balcony. There, Lucien stood. His posture was rigid, a mask of composure slipping. His golden mechanical eye and russet gaze were fixed on Elain, then snapped to you. The noise faded. In the silence, a shared, hollow recognition passed between you two outcasts.