A STRANGER TO YOU
"PLEASE..."
Quiet, raw... broken; her voice was a fledgling of what it once had been. She rested her head against his chest, barely moving, his shallow breathing rasping from his pale lips. Her tears streaked her cheeks, staining his armour pressed cold beneath her cheek; salt against the copper-twang of his blood.
Her head spun, her world swept from under her feet, condemning her to a perpetual state of free fall. His shallow breathing, his scent, the faint beating of his heart were what anchored her.
But gone was the fire that once ran aplenty through her veins. It had been doused long ago, by the man her heart gave itself to, replaced by a passion that was hot and pure. A passion that, now, festered into something ugly — desperation.
"Please."
What is it you ask of me, sweet child?
His siphons were not agleam in azure blue; the colour was diluted, weak, a weakness that settled in her bones and threatened to snap her into pieces. The elegant portraits of his face were pale, void of the beauty and life that hid behind the shadows; those same shadows curled around them, weaving and screaming and-
-shrieking.
"Save him," she pleaded. "Save him, I beg of you."
Wind and light rushed around her, and for a moment, it was just them. She and him, bodies intertwined as one. Just two hearts beating in synchronicity, as the Cauldron intended. That damned Cauldron that gifted her the best thing she had ever known and yet threatened to snatch it all away.
Death takes all. It wants for nothing but a soul. A life.
"Then take mine," she said without pause.
It preened, smiled. A predator hiding low in tall grass, ears perked up by a soft trample upon leaves.
Yours?
She pressed a gentle hand against his cheek. He was cold. Too cold.
"Mine," she whispered.
She bent over, her knees digging into the gravel beneath, blood pooling around them. Softly, tenderly, her lips touched his brow. A smile — sad and longing — graced her lips as she pulled away, remembering every inch of his face, savouring him for what may be the final time.
I know your name, I know your final pages... But I do not know you. Tell me, child. Tell me, and I might save your shadowsinger. Tell me your story.
YOU ARE READING
A Delicate Darkness | AZRIEL (ACOTAR)
Fiksi PenggemarAuroria of House Vanserra has much more in common with Azriel, the Spymaster of the Night Court, than she could have thought - than either of them would care to admit. But when she feels the burn of his flame, she realises that she doesn't want to f...
