In Shadow and Death

009

                              Like scattered moondust, the stars weeped with argent light, an ethereal glow beaconing Velaris. The city of Starlight winked congenially, the mellow homes guarded by looming mountains - one's that stood tall like silent sentinels.

Frosted windows exuded with a warm light, scenes of doting families and jubilant friends unfolding from the casted shadows. The serene streets were scarce of fun and unconcern, myriads of households pondering the futility of their court.

Rhysand hailed his unruffled city from his florid terrace, baleful wings unfolded and rustling in the unwilted, charming winds, his astral eyes engrossed by the rejoice of his fruition. Dancing lights and jovial hoots retained his attention as he smiled a gentle, confidential smile, a melancholic nostalgia stirring his gut.

Azriel approached his brother considerately, entitling the High Lord to his covert contemplations as he loomed patiently in the shadows, wreathed in whispers. Rhysand had taken on an abundance of revelations, tattle and grief in a mere two weeks, snared by wretched, burdensome chains - the crushing metal forged by his own calculated ramifications.

The awareness of Feyre's rancorous plan and her constancy within the Spring Court did nothing to appease the acute desolation in his chest, only barbed his protective instincts.

"Rhys?" Signalled Azriel quietly, a noiseless concern floating flippantly through his tone. His biddable shadows trailed him like an opaque cloak, droning arcanely as he approached Rhysand's humming aura, standing beside his brother and perching a scarred hand atop the ivory banister.

"Do you think she's okay?" Rhys pondered absently, a kaleidoscope of conflicts ringing his lustrous iris'. His strong jaw flickered with affray as he watched Velaris twinkle below.

"She will settle." Azriel assured fluidly, but his voice seemed almost dismissive, sunburst eyes besotted by the reticent city below - by the grand, baroque apartment reared in the centre of Velaris, it's sleeted windows leaking with warmth.

Rhysand watched his brother carefully, the shift in his demeanour a noticeable mutation, "Are you concerned?" He asked curiously, nodding dubiously to that fascinating apartment, "You can't take your eyes off her apartment."

If Azriel had been caught in an shameful reverie, the wall of ice and waveless shadows did nothing to expose him, "Any word from Feyre?" He questioned deterrently, restless wings stirring in the lulling dusk.

Rhysand sighed ponderously, yielding further into his burdens as he bowed his harrowed shoulders, "No guiding light to follow." He sufficed morosely, running a restless hand through his silken hair.

"The time will come." Swore Azriel, his eyes blazing like molten stars, the two bright jewels remaining fanatical about Merikh's new apartment.

He wondered audaciously of what she was doing, of her mindset and the little things she had come to take leisure in. He itched to glimpse her apartment, to see that small fragment of a past personality that had been pillaged by tyrants. He dwelled on her existence as if he had the right to, quietly scrutinising his scarred hands, the pair that burnt to hold her, craved her curiosity like they had no other.

At the heart of the teeming city, hidden from conflict and encased in serenity, Merikh marvelled at the bittersweet tranquility of her new life. At the simplicity of Velaris: the ease of midnight runs and the guiltless contentment she granted herself as she read somnolently by the apartment's fire, breathing gently as it burnt like mines of sulphur.

The obtuse need to reincorporate a routine was an arduous itch that needed scratching. The constant urgency for stability had quickly become haunting, an obsessive phantom in the back of her mind, chewing away at her sanity.

The raven words had become a blur of boredom minutes ago, the jumble of artificial stories proving to be uninteresting as Merikh reserved the book for later, excusing it under the City's burnished stars.

The moon had teasingly settled just above her balcony, illuminating the obsolete vines that were woven into the banister, writhing like restless snakes. The jeering sphere of iridescence sneered down at her, it's brilliance a unique reminder of devastation.

The name Sorin originated from The Summer Court, and it's correlations of brilliance and warmth served his eternal compassion. Sorin was benignant; and Merikh couldn't think of a time when his eyes were without radiance, his iris' an affluent, cozy shade of brown. They were like Elain's, the pools of mahogany wreathed in amity.

Merikh's eyes shone like cavernous gems, her heart exuding a heavy strength as she watched the moon, scrutinised the tangible orb as if it would console her with it's divine ardour, hear her calls and give her time.

Of course, the moon remained weeping with an ethereal glow, solidified in the shadows of dusk, a celestial aura of sanctity surrounding it like a soft lullaby.

Merikh slumped herself against the crisp banister, poising herself on weary elbows as she smiled dolefully toward the moon, unaware of the cobalt, shadow-bat that smiled back.

smallest chapter ever, but i've had 2 weeks of celebrations for graduation so i'm coming back with this filler chapter.