Shadow Queen - Azriel x oc

↳ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 15 - ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ

゜✧*̣̩☽⋆ SHADOW QUEEN ✧*̣̩☽⋆゜

𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈

★¸.• 505 уєαяѕ αgo ⡀.•☆
two weeks after the Blood Rite

Lord Devlon got to keep his head on his shoulders, fortunately for him. Even if the three Illyrians had been dropped off in three opposite corners, they'd managed to find each other, and then, the others were done for. Sombra had made a list of the ones that had tried to make a hit on them—if they had made it out of the Rite. No surprise Rhysand had been the target of most out of the three; there was too much unfinished business with the High Lord.

The brothers had been commemorated; the Carynthian warriors had received their syphons. Seven! Blue and red, shining with their raw power. Rhys, unfortunately, would have to manage his power in another way as he broke his purple syphons. She remembered the other warriors' jealousy. Some barely got one.

Cassian could better channel his strength and direct it; as for the Shadowsinger, it was like unlocking a new level of himself and his power. Sombra had never seen anything like it.

Something had changed in him during the Rite, Sombra noticed. Something had happened. She had barely seen him this past few weeks, almost like he was hiding from her. 

That's because he was.

He had gone into the Rite as one male and had come out another. 

Azriel was walking down the hallway near Rhysand's study when his now heightened shadows picked up on an unfamiliar voice.

"You know what will happen if you don't give me what you owe me," a male voice threatened.

Azriel stopped in his place. Who was he? And who was he talking to? Rhysand?

The answer made him still and shiver. "I just need more time," Sombra replied. The Shadowsinger had never heard her speak like that. Her anxiety and distress were evident in her voice. And it wasn't like her to be like that.

That male was going to die for that. The voices in his head murmured and didn't allow him to focus. Similar phrases followed, clouding his senses.

He got so lost in his mind he didn't notice Cassian approaching until the Illyrian was next to him with his mouth open about to scream something. Loud as always.

The Shadowsinger took his friend by the shoulders and pinned him against the wall, a hand over his mouth. He signalled to be quiet with the other gloved hand and pointed at his ear. Cassian raised his brows but remained silent. Thank the Cauldron.

"If I don't get it by the end of the week, I'll come to collect my prize. One week, Little Protectress," the male replied.

How dare he threaten her like that? 

The door to Rhysand's study opened, and Azriel quickly engulfed himself and Cass in his shadows. With the darkness covering them, they were invisible. 

Footsteps approached, and then he saw a fae male walking toward them. 

From underneath the dark hood, short light strands of hair peeked out. Azriel also caught a glimpse of a trail of tattoos crawling up his neck and face. The male was tall, big, and exuded power. Was he old? That was a difficult question to answer. The Shadowsinger knew Sombra was older than Orion, but the High Lord looked physically older than the Protectress.