The Symphony of Shadow

21: 'As if the Sky were on Fire'

- S T A R T     O F    P A R T     T H R E E -

A Z R I E L

Mate.

Mate, mate, mate – Gwyn.

Azriel stood in shock, mouth parted slightly, eyes staring into nothingness. He'd simply lost his power of movement over his body.

His shadows swirled about him, urging him to act. Strangely enough, the news didn't seem new to them. Perhaps, if Azriel had been sober of this profound shock, he might not have been surprised.

The word echoed in his head over and over – in groups of threes – alongside the snapshot picture of her in the setting he'd seen her last: with Eris, winnowing away. That moment could have been seconds, minutes, or hours ago, for yet again, Gwyneth Berdara had welded him into a being who couldn't decipher time.

He had learned inside the Prison that it wasn't right to tear himself away from her, not without including her in the decision – all credit given to Nesta. And so he'd planned on confessing to Gwyn, getting on his knees and letting her judgement deem him worthy or not so.

Now, he couldn't decide how to think, see, feel. Honestly, he'd been so intent on coming to her after the Prison to apologise for everything he'd said before. To explain. He would've promised himself to her there and then – the second he found her – if given the chance. Because he'd forgotten about mating bonds for a while now. Had no longer felt his usual, incessant craving for it – for that craving had been replaced with Gwyn.

But surely a mating bond only added to what they had? Made them stronger. Something like yearning sparked through him at the knowing they were meant for one another.

Then, something else snapped into place. Gwyn was gone – with Eris, possibly the most strongly disliked person in the mind of Azriel. Resting anger blossomed within him once more, sending him through a panic.

And as long as Gwyn was in danger – his mate was in danger – he would act as bloodthirsty as he deemed fit. He could figure out how he the hell felt about all of this later. But that wouldn't be so easy now, he realised. Before, he had known she'd been in the Autumn Court, and in which specific region, thanks to Mor. Now, for all Azriel knew, Gwyn could've been anywhere in the world. Ordinarily, information like that would have stumped in, sent him into a spiralling rage at the not know what, where, how.

Ordinarily, however, he didn't have the mating bond to guide him.

G W Y N

It was sunrise.

For all she could see – stretching miles and miles – oranges, pinks, reds and golds pulled at the curtain concealing the pale blue.

Gwyn remembered an old warning which had been echoed most days during her childhood at Sangravah: red skies in the morning, shepherd's warning. Perhaps a storm was coming, wherever they were.

She turned to Eris, an ancient man who's mood could change from spiteful, to sorrowful, to comical – all in the matter of seconds. He was a strange type of person, Gwyn had decided. But despite not knowing him for long at all – and more importantly, despite the fact that he'd literally kidnapped her not a quarter of an hour ago – Gwyn found herself liking him in an odd way.

"Where are we?" She asked him, scanning the colourful clay cliffs edging the horizon.

"The Day Court." His face was pensive, like he was hiding something. At this point, Gwyn couldn't really be bothered to be surprised he was keeping secrets. Instead, she simply ignored it.