Shadows Whisper | | Azriel

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Astryn had been missing for days.

Rhys and Amren tried using the spell they had used to track her down at the start of all of this, but the map caught fire and burned away to nothing. Not even ashes remained.

Azriel and Rhys didn't speak, hardly even looked at each other. Azriel hadn't spoken to anyone since he and Cassian returned without Astryn anyway, but the silence between him and Rhys was different. He knew there would be no reconciliation between them if Astryn wasn't found. If Rhys couldn't find his sister, and it was Azriel's fault, there would be no coming back from that. It seemed so long ago that Azriel had threatened to kill Rhys if the choice he made brought harm to Astryn. Rhys didn't need to bother with threats. He had only given Azriel a short, ice cold glance full of wrath and that death promise required no words. If Astryn had ran because of him and was hurt or captured or dead, Azriel would pay for it. He wondered if Rhys even realized that, if he had to suffer the pain of feeling his mate die, he would probably end his own life before Rhys got the chance to end it for him.

The only thing keeping Azriel functioning at all was the bits of the bond that hadn't gone dark, hadn't withered and frozen in the wake of that goodbye. If not for those small glimmers, he doubted he would still be alive right now.

He had let himself think for just a moment that she was broken, and then she left and showed him just how truly easy it was to break him. She hadn't ever been broken, but now he was.

•••

Astryn had ended up wandering right back into Velaris, mostly because she had no sense of direction. And Vyn was there, concern for his niece etched onto his face.

It had been stupid to trust him, but she didn't have anywhere else she could go. Anywhere else would lead her right back to Azriel and she couldn't face him knowing what he thought of her. So, she ignored what her instincts roared at her and followed her uncle into the home Rhys had set up for him.

She confessed her hatred of her own power, and he listened with kind, sympathetic eyes. Then, when she finished talking, he led her to a locked closet. A locked closet full of faebane.

"I know power can get overwhelmed sometimes," he had muttered softly as she took in the sight. Her instincts urged her to run, and she refused. "I have this for myself. It takes the edge off. I can make you some tea with it."

"Please," she had begged so desperately, begged for what she knew somewhere in the back of her mind would just be her own destruction. But at least it would be quiet.

Vyn made her tea laced with faebane and she drank it down gratefully, not considering how it would slow her healing abilities along with the rest of her power. She would be more vulnerable now.

For a week, she stayed there with Vyn, taking every bit of faebane he offered and relishing in the quiet it brought to her mind. She couldn't feel the power pressing against her skin anymore. The only power she felt any hints of was the bond, but even that was so distant.

She didn't see the trap for what it was, ignoring those images of blurred figures and ghosts that came to mind around Vyn. He was giving her what everyone else refused to, so no matter how much her mind screamed at her that he was not to be trusted, she looked at him like her savior, like he had freed her from the bonds of magic.

She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised to find out he wasn't doing this out of kindness. He wasn't freeing her of her magic to make her happy, he was doing it to make her weak.

She wished she had trained with Cassian more. He probably wouldn't have taught her to get out of a situation like this. But they never got that far and the faebane had weakened her so much that any struggle was useless. She thrashed against her uncle's hold, but he was strong where she was weak. His blue eyes held sadness and guilt and some twisted version of love as he pinned her down and pulled out a dagger.

"I'm sorry," he told her, such sincerity in his voice, "I'm sorry that I didn't find you and free you before they broke you. I offer you mercy as the only kindness I have to give."

She get anger spark to life inside of her at that—that word again.

"I'm not broken," she snapped, and willed all her physical strength to rally inside of her. She didn't have magic, and she wouldn't know how to use it if she did. But she could try to put the few things she had learned from Cassian to use—could honor her only friend by not going down without a fight.

She screamed, and it was like a battle cry as she felt the urge to prove to him and to Azriel and to herself that she truly hadn't been broken. She would not take this death as if it was a gift.

She fought. She hit and kicked and scratched at her uncle as he tried to kill her. She managed to slip out from under him and raced to make it out of the room. He stumbled to his feet and quickly ran after he'd. She had better balance than he did and she reminded herself to thank her friend for that if she made it out of here alive. She had better breath control and better balance than the centuries old male chasing her through the apartment.

But he was faster, and stronger.

He caught her by a fistful of her hair and slammed her face first into a wall before using that same grip to whirl her around to face him. Any mask of civility was gone. Blood leaked down his cheeks from where Astryn had scratched down his face.

She wouldn't win this fight, she knew she wouldn't. The only trace of magic she had left was the bond, so she opened it up again. She didn't know if Azriel even thought she was worth saving anymore now that he thought she was broken. She wished she had had that thought before she opened it because she realized that, in her weakness, she had projected it right to him.

She didn't let herself feel what he felt, fearing she would only feel detachment or disgust or resignation.

She focus on projecting the image of where she was, who she saw. And then, again, just one word.

Help.

And then Vyn's dagger found a home in her. It wasn't the kind of wound people recovered from and she knew it. She would die here, on the floor where her uncle had let her fall after stabbing her.

Faintly, she could hear his response in her head.

I'm coming. I'll be there, I swear it to you. You will not die.

•••

so um (i'm not done yet btw)