A Court of Dusk and Shadows

CHAPTER THRITY-SIX: A DIFFERENT KIND OF MONSTER

A surge of energy crackled through Ileana – not just power, but molten anger.

It was the scorching fury of love nearly extinguished, the echo of her own silent scream. The moment she pressed that trembling starlight to Azriel's wound, something within her snapped. Relief? It was the faintest tremor against the thundering rage now burning away the lingering numbness.

Each pulse of healing light had felt like a flaying of her spirit. Now, that same sacrifice was fuel, igniting a fury that bordered on feral. Suddenly, the bloodhounds pacing restlessly below the shattered window weren't monstrous predators, but snarling nuisances encroaching upon her territory.

She was not just any faerie warrior. She was a High Lady, Starborn heir, descendant of royalty. Blackstar sang as she freed it from its sheath, a familiar rhythm in her calloused hands. The steel shimmered with stardust; the echo of an inner strength finally remembered. With a wicked grin at Azriel, she was airborne, plummeting out of the window.

The Shadowsinger lunged, but it was too late.

For a heartbeat, it was wind whistling past her ears, not battle cries that filled her senses. Then, there was the glorious thump of earth against muscle and bone. Ileana rolled through the impact, landing on the balls of her feet with a shockwave that cracked the icy ground.

The silence instantly filled with startled snarls. Then, her own power roared forth. Starlight rippled across her skin, and as she lifted her gaze, even her eyes blazed with cosmic fury. The hounds recoiled, deeply-ingrained instincts telling them she was no longer someone to be trifled with. There was a feral edge to her smile now; this wasn't the calculated huntress, but something unchained, as primal and unforgiving as the beasts before her.

Her roar shattered the night's stillness as she charged. Blackstar met fang and claw with starlight and steel. There was joy in the fight now, not just desperate preservation but the unleashing of a power too long contained. It coursed through her veins, electrifying, raw. A snarl ripped past her lips, barely human, echoing the hound's fury now intertwined with her own.

And then she wasn't alone.

In a flurry of shadows and wings, Azriel landed beside her, his movements less measured and more brutalized. He, too, had changed—this wasn't a protector, but a warrior unleashed. They fought in chaotic concert, his shadows an extension of her starlight, a terrifying symphony born of rediscovered purpose.

In those frantic moments, there was no Illyrian and no Starborn. No Shadowsinger and no stranger in a strange land. They were warrior and huntress, fury and steel, an incandescent echo of their own shared savagery and untamable might. The wolves learned then, not with reason, but with guttural instincts, that their prey had become monstrous, their battleground now stained with the light of a fallen star.

The snow and clearing became a battlefield of blurred fur, blue light, shadows, and steel. And when the madness ended, when the dance was done, Ileana was covered in blood and snow, gripping the last bloodhound.

Triumph pulsed through her, then stilled under the chilling presence that erupted through the dissipating chaos. An unnatural hush fell over the clearing. She raised her gaze, and her breath caught. At the edge of the tree line stood the Alpha. It was more than his size; he was... wrong. Twisted.

Not fully wolf, but trapped in a grotesque mid-shift, he towered over them, fur matted with crimson, eyes blazing with rage, and...something cunning. And in his powerful arm, he held Azriel's mother.

Even disheveled, there was a startling beauty to her—high cheekbones, eyes blazing with defiance. They mirrored her son's so closely; it made Ileana's breath hitch. Azriel had frozen beside her, all trace of wild battle frenzy wiped clean. Staring at his mother, he resembled a statue carved from ice and despair.