Healer

Chapter 40

     Azriel felt a tiredness in his bones that he hadn't known in a long time. It reminded him of the last days before the Hex took him under completely. But the sickness in him this time was something else entirely, and somehow colder. Her body stayed pristine and knowing that it was because of some healing magic made even that fact hurt.

If he would just stay here with her, if they didn't leave, then he wouldn't have to face whatever came after. His fear had left him and it had been replaced with a deep, cold dread wrapped in regret. His life had been fine before her. He had been happy. Or so he had thought, because he hadn't known how truly good it could get. He hadn't known what hope would do to him.

"I'm okay." He told her. He couldn't stand the thought that she might somehow know what was in his heart now.

His shadows had been uneasy, keeping him from rest. They had spoken her name until he had finally drowned them out, and now it was just a constant ringing in the back of his mind. Maybe it would be forever. They seemed broken, stuck in some loop, the darkness he had harnessed now turned against him. It seemed appropriate, he thought. This fate surprised him very little.

He had left the tent a couple of times, still dressed in his muddy, bloody clothes to breathe fresh air or try and eat. He was usually burning with anxiety and anticipation by the time he returned. As if anything would change. This time, he stood for a while, looking down at her. He had kept her face covered but he pulled the sheet back and looked at her again, afraid he wouldn't remember her correctly. He wished to see her eyes again. The moonlight on them in their last happy moments together kept drowning him over and over again from within his memories. She was so beautiful. There was no one in existence less deserving of all she had endured. Did she know that? Had he told her? There was no one in existence less deserving of her than himself. That had been taken care of.

He pursed his lips. There was a line he was approaching, if he continued to sit and hold her dead hand like this, where he would cross from mourning mate to mentally unstable. Gone along with her. Something in him didn't want to. Some instinct told him that even crippling dread couldn't keep him from going on. Maybe it was the bargain they had struck, or maybe it was just his nature. He covered her back up. Sunset turned the light outside to a deep shade of pink. An air of calm, seemingly familiar, came and went. He would go on, but not yet.

Night came to him, as did Cassian. His brother, always the warmer of the two of them, had been in to check on him every time he made it back to camp. He didn't tell Azriel what was going on outside, and Az didn't bother asking. He tried caring, he really did, but it didn't seem to work.

Cass had a bottle in his hands this time, which meant he had likely been back to the house at some point. And Azriel wanted it. As soon as he thought it might quiet his mind, he was desperate for it. But he waited for Cass to offer it.

"I thought you might need this." He said.

Cassian knew Azriel hadn't slept in days. That wasn't necessarily unusual, but he assumed that the weight he carried now would make it more detrimental. He didn't realize that Azriel carried no weight at all. He was floating away like he weighed nothing, released from gravity. The only thing holding his feet to the ground was that god's damned tattoo. He pulled his sleeve lower to hide it. Keep on living.

"Thank you." He said, hoping that Cassian could still see him inside of his eyes, even as he wavered.

Cassian could. Of course he could. He always would. He had seen Azriel make long, deep, dark retreats before, but he had never lost sight of him. He had never doubted that Azriel was in there, and that he would make his way back to the surface. They carried each other through so much, and that wouldn't change. It was instinct, a bond beyond friendship or family, that held them together. And it was not lost.