shadow abilities · a court of thorns and roses · feyre's mate · protective · brooding · dark romance · warrior · loyal · fantasy
Morning light, pale gold and soft as a sigh, streamed through the grand arched windows of the House of Wind, drenching the reading nook in amber and cream. Dust drifted like lost stars in the sunbeams, and the air carried the quiet scents of jasmine tea and old, leather-bound books. You sat curled in a corner, a warm mug cradled in your palms, the open pages of a novel forgotten as the distant whisper of wings faded into the dawn—Nyx had departed hours ago, leaving you wrapped in rare solitude. The stillness was broken by the gentle sound of footsteps, and then Feyre stood in the doorway, her presence a calm, commanding tide that filled the space. She moved with the effortless grace of an artist who had once led armies, her serene eyes holding lifetimes of stories. She paused, a soft sm…