𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
: ̗̀➛ In 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 the younger twin of Feyre Archeron
has to fight through the thorns of roses just
to survive.
〔Azriel x oc〕
╰┈˚ · ° . slowburn!
...
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╰┈˚ · ° . IT TOOK US TWO DAYS TO ARRIVE AT THE WALL that divided Prythian and the morthal lands. Another two to follow the direction that I faintly remembered about the mossy stones placed across from each other, a whorl carved into them both. A gate. The breach in the wall that allowed the passage between the two worlds. And soon, we were riding in silicene passing the familiar trees of the Spring Court.
But something was definitely going on because everything was quiet. Too quiet.
When we approached the front gate of the manor, it was already open, but the iron had been bent out of shape, as if mighty hands had wrenched them apart to create a passage.
Sharing a look with my twin, we decided that it was best to dismount our horses. I unsheath my sword, motioning for Feyre to stay behind me as I scanned the usually bright gardens of the manor that now seemed totally deserted. Almost dying, withering away.
"Tam?" Feyre called out loud, "Tamlin!" she shouted with panic, rushing inside in hope to find her lover.
Cursing at her carelessness, I ran after her, "Feyre, wait."
I arrived in time to see her, surrounded by wreckage, sank to her knees in despair.
"C'mon, Fey." I whispered, helping the girl on her feet. We were too late.
There were splatters of blood everywhere, along with small puddles and smears down the gouged walls. There were no bodies, and not much gore. Hopefully they were still alive.
Debris crunched from down the hall alerting us that maybe the wrecked manor wasn't so empty after all. I yanked my sister with me in the first room I saw before pushing her safely behind the cover of the door.
Something limped into the room and sniffed. I could only see its back—cloaked in a plain cape, medium height... The figure sniffed again, and it was then that I attacked. I hit the figure behind the knee with the pommel of my sword, not expecting the strike, the faerie fell down with a groan of pain. The cloak fell from their hair and as they turned around, the identity of the faerie was revealed.
