Behind the Shadow - Part 2

Chapter 6: Side Effects

Azriel leaned heavily against the stone wall of Skye's chambers, his vision blurring slightly as a wave of nausea washed over him. He clenched his jaw, fighting the weakness that seemed to creep in more persistently each day. His shadows—usually his constant, reliable companions—flickered uncertainly around him, their dark forms wavering as if they too were plagued by his turmoil.

It had been days since he'd first felt the strange pull of the bond, and though he had tried to push it aside, to bury it beneath his duty to Skye, it was becoming harder to ignore. Every time he brushed off the sensation, a sharp pang shot through his chest, his muscles feeling like they were tearing apart. It was as if some invisible chain was tugging at him, reminding him of what he was trying so desperately to forget.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to steady himself. When he opened them again, Skye was standing before him, her brow furrowed with concern. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm, her touch warm and steady.

"Azriel," she said, her voice soft but edged with worry. "Are you all right? You don't look well."

He forced a smile, hoping it was convincing enough. "I'm fine, just... overworked. The Night Court has kept me busy lately."

But Skye's eyes were sharp, piercing through the excuse he offered. "It's more than that, isn't it?" She stepped closer, her gaze searching his face. "I can feel it, Azriel. Something's wrong."

He wanted to tell her, to explain the strange, disorienting sensation that had taken root inside him, but the words caught in his throat. How could he tell her that he was feeling torn apart, that the very connection he had dreamed of for so long had arrived—just not with her? The thought alone twisted his heart, and he knew that admitting it would destroy the fragile balance they had managed to maintain.

"It's nothing," he said, brushing off her concern with a dismissive wave. "You don't need to worry about me."

She folded her arms, her expression hardening. "I'm not asking, Azriel. I know you, and I know when something isn't right. You've been distant lately, even more so than usual. You're not... you."

The truth in her words stung, and he fought back the surge of guilt that welled up inside him. "Skye, please. I can handle this."

"But can you?" she shot back, her voice rising with frustration. "Because it doesn't look like it. You're pale, you've been sick, and your shadows... they're different. Weaker."

Azriel flinched at her words, a flare of anger sparking within him, though it was directed more at himself than at her. He knew she was right; he could feel the drain, the way his body was betraying him. He hated it—hated that he was powerless against this connection that had surfaced unbidden, threatening everything he held dear.

"Skye, I don't want to argue," he said, his voice low, strained. "I need you to trust me. This is something I have to deal with on my own."

Her face softened, a flash of hurt crossing her features. "Azriel, I'm trying to help. I don't want you to suffer in silence. Whatever this is, let me in. Don't push me away."

He took a step back, the distance between them feeling like a chasm. "I'm not pushing you away. I'm just... handling it in my own way. You don't need to worry."

She studied him, her gaze lingering, and he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. He wanted to reach out, to pull her close and erase the distance between them, but the bond pulled at him like a shackle, reminding him of the truth he was trying so hard to avoid.

"All right," she said finally, though he could hear the resignation in her tone. "But don't expect me to ignore it forever, Azriel. I won't sit by while you tear yourself apart."

She turned away, leaving him standing alone in the dim light of the room, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath, feeling the strain in his body intensify, his limbs growing heavy. It was as if some unseen force was sapping his strength, feeding off his resistance.

Later that night, as he lay alone in bed, he felt the familiar sensation again—a sharp, insistent tug deep within him. It was like a thread, pulling him in a direction he couldn't control, and he gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to follow it. He knew that if he gave in, it would only make things worse, but the strain of resisting was becoming almost unbearable.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, but his mind raced, filled with images of Skye and the life they had built together. He wanted so badly to hold on to it, to ignore the bond that had come crashing into his world, uninvited and unwanted. But as the hours ticked by, he knew he couldn't escape the truth forever. The bond was there, and it was growing stronger, consuming him from the inside out.

In the morning, he found Skye waiting for him, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and resolve. She took his hand, her fingers lacing through his, and he felt a surge of warmth, a reminder of the connection they shared. He wanted to tell her everything, to pour out the conflict that raged within him, but he remained silent, letting her hold him, knowing that he was walking a dangerous line.

"Azriel," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever this is, we'll get through it. But you have to let me in. Promise me you'll let me help."

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. Finally, he nodded, though he knew that it was a promise he couldn't keep. The bond was something beyond them both, a force that defied logic and reason, and he wasn't sure if he had the strength to fight it.

For now, he would hold on to Skye, cling to the life they had built together, even as the bond threatened to tear it all apart. But deep down, he knew that the longer he resisted, the more the side effects would take their toll, pushing him closer to a breaking point he wasn't sure he could survive.