In the Shadows

Chapter 1: Shadows in the Hall

The warm glow of the fire flickered across the marble floors of the sitting room in the River House, casting long shadows over the gathered group. Feyre leaned back against the velvet cushions of the sofa, her fingers lightly tracing Rhysand's hand, which rested on her thigh. Across from them, Nesta sat with her legs curled beneath her, eyes sharp and distant as she sipped from a glass of wine. Cassian stood beside her, arms crossed, looking uncharacteristically serious, his wings twitching with a restlessness that seemed to settle over the entire room.

Amren was perched on the edge of a high-backed chair, her eyes narrowing at the fire, while Morrigan, lounging on the chaise, swirled her glass of wine in slow circles, though she hadn't taken a sip. The tension in the room was palpable, and it had nothing to do with the upcoming party they were preparing for. It was something else entirely.

"He's been avoiding us," Morrigan said at last, breaking the silence.

"He always avoids us," Cassian grumbled, but even his casual remark lacked its usual levity.

Rhysand's violet eyes darkened. He wasn't one to jump into conversation unless there was something worth saying, but even Feyre could feel his unease ripple through their bond. She pressed closer to him, glancing at her sisters and their friends. They were all thinking the same thing. Azriel had pulled away—more than usual. And it was starting to worry all of them.

"Have any of you actually seen him recently?" Amren's voice was cold, as sharp as the cutting edge of a blade. Her silver eyes scanned the room, waiting for someone to answer.

Feyre glanced at Rhysand, who gave a slight shake of his head.

"Not in days," he said, voice low and troubled.

Morrigan exhaled, setting her glass down on the side table. "It's more than days, Rhys. It's been weeks—he's always out on some mission or hiding in his shadows. Even when he's here, it's like he's not."

A silence settled over them, the weight of Morrigan's words heavy in the air. Feyre hadn't realized just how long it had been since she'd really spoken to Azriel. Yes, he still attended meetings, briefed them on intelligence, and delivered reports, but it was always quick, always distant. He never lingered like he used to.

"He's been worse since..." Cassian began, then stopped himself.

"Since I found my mate?" Nesta filled in, her gaze sharp as she set her glass on the table beside her.

Cassian frowned, but there was a flash of guilt in his hazel eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."

Nesta sighed, crossing her arms. "But it's true. He's always been the one without someone. Now with you and Feyre mated... Morrigan's still figuring things out—" She paused, glancing at Morrigan. "It's no surprise Azriel feels more alone than ever."

The room tensed at the mention of Morrigan, whose face remained unreadable, though Feyre noticed the slight tremor in her fingers as she picked up her glass again. Morrigan had always danced on the edge of something with Azriel, something Feyre hadn't quite understood until recently. Their tangled past was never discussed openly, but the pain between them, the lingering tension, had never fully healed.

Morrigan set her glass down again, her expression softening. "He's avoiding all of us for different reasons. I just—" She paused, her golden eyes clouded with something Feyre couldn't quite name. "I don't think it has anything to do with me. Not anymore."

Feyre felt Rhysand's hand tighten in hers. She could feel his mind working, the careful consideration that he applied to everything before speaking.

"Azriel has always been private," Rhysand said carefully. "We've never pushed him to open up. But I'm starting to think..." He trailed off, his brow furrowing as if even the thought of it pained him. "I'm starting to think he's closing off more than usual. Even to me."

"That's because everyone else has someone," Cassian said quietly, his voice more subdued than Feyre had ever heard. He glanced at Nesta, then at Rhysand and Feyre, before turning his gaze back to the fire. "He watches us all pair off, settle down, and... he's still there. Alone."

Morrigan bit her lip, her face clouding over with something akin to guilt, while Amren remained silent, though her eyes flickered with the kind of cold, calculating observation she was known for. Feyre watched as Cassian shifted uneasily, glancing toward Morrigan, then away, as if the weight of Azriel's isolation was something that none of them knew how to handle.

"I think it's more than just loneliness," Amren said at last, breaking her silence. Her silver eyes cut through the tension in the room as if she could slice through it with her gaze alone. "Azriel has been through more than any of us. His past, his scars—they weigh on him. We've all seen it. But lately..." She shook her head, her lips pursed in a frown. "Lately, it's as if he's letting those shadows consume him."

"Azriel would never—" Rhysand started, but Amren cut him off.

"I'm not saying he's lost control. I'm saying he's choosing not to fight it anymore."

The statement hung in the air like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating. Feyre felt a shiver run down her spine. The idea of Azriel, their loyal spymaster, the one who always stood in the background, watching, protecting, being consumed by his own shadows was terrifying.

"We need to do something," Feyre said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "We can't just let him—"

"Let him what?" Nesta interrupted, her voice hard and unyielding. "Azriel isn't a child. He's capable of handling himself. If he's pulling away, it's because he wants to."

"Or he thinks he has no other choice," Morrigan added quietly.

Cassian let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I've tried talking to him, tried getting him to come out for a drink or train with me. He always brushes me off. Says he's got work, missions, something else to do." He paused, his jaw tightening. "But we all know that's bullshit."

"He's hiding," Amren said with a grim nod. "From us. From himself. He's always been the one lurking in the shadows, but now... Now I fear he's losing himself to them."

Rhysand's jaw clenched. Feyre felt the pressure of his emotions building, the worry he tried to hide but couldn't entirely mask from her.

"We can't force him to talk," Rhysand said, his voice low. "But we can't ignore this either. If he's slipping away..."

Feyre nodded. "Then we need to find a way to bring him back."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Nesta's sharp voice cut through the room.

"I don't know," Feyre admitted, frustration bubbling up in her chest. "But we have to try."

Morrigan finally spoke again, her voice soft but filled with determination. "We'll keep an eye on him. All of us. But maybe... maybe we give him space, too. He'll come to us when he's ready."

The room fell silent again, the crackle of the fire the only sound as they all sat, lost in their thoughts. Feyre rested her head against Rhysand's shoulder, feeling the weight of their concern settle over her like a heavy blanket.

Azriel was out there somewhere, alone in the dark, and none of them knew how to reach him.