A Court Of Fire And Darkness

4. ~ The Song of Shadows ~

Nesta Archeron

Sleep was the only place where I could truly hide, where the darkness that clawed at my mind couldn’t reach me. Last night, it had been merciful—no nightmares, no haunting memories. Just a void, calm and quiet. But as I drifted deeper, something had appeared in the shadows of my dreams. A golden harp, its strings glimmering in the faintest light, almost calling to me. I reached out to touch it, feeling the pull of something ancient and powerful, but just as my fingers were about to brush the strings—

A knock at the door jarred me awake.

I bolted upright, the remnants of the dream slipping away like water through my fingers. The harp, the shadows—it was all gone, replaced by the dim light filtering through the windows of my cold, silent house.

Another knock. And then, “Nesta?”

Azriel’s voice was muffled but unmistakable.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the lingering heaviness of sleep. “What is it?” I called back, my voice hoarse from disuse.

“Feyre wants you to come to the House of Wind. It’s important.”

I sighed, throwing the covers off and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold against my bare feet. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—hair a wild mess, dark circles under my eyes, wearing nothing but an oversized silk shirt that barely reached mid-thigh. I was hardly presentable, but that wasn’t new.

“Give me a minute,” I muttered, making my way to the door.

When I opened it, Azriel stood there, ever the stoic shadow, his expression unreadable as his sharp eyes took me in. He held out a dark dress, neatly folded. “I brought this for you. Thought you might need it.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the dress. “What, you don’t approve of my current outfit?” I couldn’t help the edge of sarcasm that slipped into my tone, but Azriel’s face remained impassive.

“It’s urgent,” he said simply, ignoring my jibe. “You’ll want to look decent.”

I sighed again, taking the dress from him. The fabric was soft under my fingers, the sleeves long and made of silk. It was simple, comfortable—nothing like the restrictive gowns I had worn in the past. Azriel always knew how to find the practical in the beautiful.

“Fine. Come in or wait out there. I don’t care.” I turned away, leaving him to decide whether or not he wanted to stand in the cold.

I slipped back into my bedroom, letting the door close behind me as I shrugged off the shirt and quickly freshened up. The dream still tugged at the edges of my mind as I dressed, that golden harp lingering like a half-remembered melody. Why had I dreamed of that? I never played instruments, never even cared for music, but something about that harp felt… significant. As if it had been waiting for me.

I shook my head, pushing the thought aside as I tied off the braid I’d woven into my hair. I had more pressing things to focus on—whatever Feyre had summoned me for. With one last look in the mirror, I headed back to the front door where Azriel stood, still as a shadow, waiting.

“Ready?” he asked, and when I nodded, he took my hand in his, winnowing us to the House of Wind.

We arrived in the dining room, and the first thing I noticed was the tension. Everyone was there except for Feyre and Rhysand. Mor was lounging in a chair, dressed in her signature red, her golden hair gleaming in the morning light. Amren, as always, was a figure of stillness, leaning against the wall in a dark blue dress, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Elain, sweet as ever in her light pink dress, looked excited, her hands clasped in front of her like she could barely contain herself. Cassian stood off to the side, his wings partially spread as if ready to shield us all from whatever news was coming.

As I took a seat, I couldn’t help but wonder what on earth was happening. There was a strange energy in the air, something I couldn’t quite place. But before I could dwell on it, Feyre and Rhysand walked in.

Feyre practically glowed, a radiance I hadn’t seen in her before, and as soon as she opened her mouth, I understood why.

“I’m pregnant.”

The room erupted in noise. Cassian whooped, his voice loud and booming as he rushed to Feyre’s side, his happiness unrestrained. Mor followed close behind, practically throwing herself at Feyre with a squeal of joy, and Elain was right there too, her eyes bright as she embraced our sister, murmuring her congratulations. Even Azriel moved to Rhysand, clapping a hand on his shoulder in silent congratulations before pulling him into a brief hug.

And me? I just… smiled. A small, almost insignificant curve of my lips. But when Feyre’s gaze found mine, I sighed and rose from my seat. She was glowing, her happiness so palpable it was almost overwhelming. I couldn’t bring myself to dampen it, not when she was looking at me with such hope in her eyes.

I walked over and hugged her, if only to make her smile wider. “Congratulations,” I whispered, and she held me tightly, as if she hadn’t expected me to come at all.

“Thank you for being here,” she said softly, pulling back to look at me. Her eyes were shining, and for a moment, I saw the little sister I had once sworn to protect. That vow still held weight, even after everything that had happened.

Eventually, everyone settled, the excitement calming down as conversations broke out around the room. Feyre, however, didn’t let me go far. She pulled me aside, her hand warm in mine.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, her tone shifting to something more serious. “Have you ever visited the library here? The one where the priestesses work?”

I frowned slightly, shaking my head. “No. Why?”

“There’s a priestess there—her name is Gwyn. She’s… been through a lot, like you.” Feyre hesitated, as if weighing her words. “The library is a place for them to heal, to find some peace. I thought maybe you’d want to visit sometime. It could help.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but something distracted me—a small, barely noticeable hum that seemed to vibrate through the walls. I blinked, my mind slipping back to that dream of the golden harp, and for a moment, it felt like the two were connected. I wasn’t sure how or why, but it was there, just at the edge of my awareness.

“Nesta?” Feyre’s voice brought me back, and I looked at her, nodding quickly to hide my confusion.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, my voice distant.

Feyre smiled, relief flooding her features as she squeezed my hand. “Thank you. I just want you to be okay.”

She let go, turning to search for Rhysand, and I was left standing there, trying to make sense of the odd sensation prickling at my senses. There it was again—a low hum, almost melodic, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. I listened closely, my breath catching as I realized that it wasn’t just a sound. It was… a feeling, a presence, something alive and ancient.

The house was humming.

The thought was absurd, and yet, as I stood there, listening to the quiet resonance, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was calling to me. Something hidden within these walls, just waiting to be found.

Song ~
• reflections - The Neighborhood