In the Shadows

Chapter 4: Azriel's Mission

The wind whistled through the mountain pass as Azriel flew above the jagged peaks, the cold air biting at his skin, though he barely noticed. His shadows swirled around him like loyal sentinels, moving and shifting with every beat of his wings. Below, the terrain stretched into an endless labyrinth of forests and valleys—places where danger could lurk unseen.

He had been given a task. A simple reconnaissance mission to the outskirts of the Night Court's borders, where rumors of unrest had surfaced. He should have been focused entirely on his work, on the potential threat he had been sent to assess. Normally, nothing would have distracted him. He was the Spymaster, after all. Sharp. Focused. Unfaltering.

But tonight was different.

Skye's face lingered in his mind, unbidden and persistent. No matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, they kept creeping back, weaving through his concentration like a relentless fog.

That brief encounter on the balcony had done more than spill a drink. It had shaken something loose inside him, something he had kept buried for so long that it felt foreign now, almost dangerous to confront.

She had seen him—truly seen him. Not just the Spymaster lurking in the shadows. Not just the warrior draped in darkness. She had seen past his exterior, past the armor he wore to protect himself from the world. And she hadn't recoiled or looked away.

No, she had smiled, a slight curve of her lips that seemed to say she knew he was hiding, and she was curious why. And it had rattled him.

Azriel hated being vulnerable. He had spent centuries mastering the art of concealment, building walls around his heart so that no one could touch the parts of him that still ached. The parts that Morrigan had unintentionally fractured. The parts that watched his friends find their mates, their loves, while he remained alone—unseen.

But Skye... Skye had stirred something he thought long dead.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his attention back to the mission at hand. He was flying dangerously close to the border now, and his shadows, ever vigilant, whispered warnings in his ears. He descended slowly, his wings cutting through the cold night air as he prepared to land in a dense forest clearing.

The rumors he had been sent to investigate spoke of strange movements near the borders, an unknown force probing the limits of the Night Court's defenses. It could have been nothing—just local disputes or smugglers looking for hidden paths. But Azriel trusted his instincts. And his instincts told him that something darker was brewing.

His boots hit the ground with barely a sound, the soft moss cushioning his landing. The forest was silent, eerily so, and his shadows darted out ahead of him, melding with the night as they sought out anything unusual.

But his thoughts drifted again.

Isolation had been his companion for so long now that it felt like a part of him, a cloak he couldn't remove even if he tried. He had been content—at least that's what he told himself. He had his duty, his loyalty to his court, his brothers. That should have been enough.

Yet, more and more, he found himself standing on the outskirts of their lives. Watching as Cassian and Nesta navigated their fiery, complicated relationship. Watching as Rhysand and Feyre built their family, their bond unshakable. Watching as even Amren found love in her own enigmatic way.

And he... was left to the shadows.

Morrigan had been a constant for so long, a thread of something familiar, even if it was tangled and confusing. But that thread had frayed to the point where he didn't know if it could ever be mended. Their relationship—whatever it had been—was broken. And while he had made peace with it, the hole it left remained.