Behind the Shadow - Part 2

Chapter 13: A Visit from Rhysand

Azriel was halfway through his morning routine, practicing combat forms on the training grounds, when he felt the familiar, faint pulse of magic—a sign that someone was winnowing. He knew who it was before he even turned around. The weight of Rhysand's presence, his commanding yet composed demeanor, was unmistakable.

"Rhys," Azriel said, turning to face him. He kept his voice neutral, masking the turmoil that had become a constant undercurrent in his life.

Rhysand nodded, crossing his arms as he surveyed Azriel. "You've been hard to find lately," he remarked, his tone almost casual, but Azriel knew better. There was an edge of concern in his voice, a tension that had been missing in their last few encounters.

Azriel said nothing, simply waited for Rhys to continue. They stood there in silence for a moment, Rhys examining him, taking in the lines of exhaustion etched into his face, the rawness in his eyes. Azriel wondered if Rhys could sense how broken he felt, the cracks that had splintered his soul since he'd left Velaris, since he'd lost Skye.

"Walk with me?" Rhys suggested, inclining his head toward the edge of the training grounds. Azriel hesitated but nodded, sheathing his weapons and falling into step beside him.

The two walked in silence for a while, the crisp Illyrian air biting at Azriel's skin. Rhys was the first to break the silence. "I wanted to check on you," he said. "You've been quiet, even for you."

Azriel swallowed, glancing at the ground. "I've been busy."

"Training yourself into the ground won't change anything," Rhys pointed out, his gaze piercing. "You know that as well as I do."

Azriel clenched his fists, forcing himself to take a steadying breath. "Why are you here, Rhys?"

Rhys stopped walking, turning to face him fully. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, delicately bound card. The wax seal on it shimmered in the morning light. "I thought you should see this," he said quietly, extending it to Azriel.

Azriel hesitated, his heart pounding as he took the card, the edges rough against his fingers. He recognized the seal immediately—Skye's court. With trembling hands, he broke the seal and opened it. His eyes skimmed over the words, and with each line, a hollow, aching feeling grew in his chest.

It was a wedding invitation. Skye's wedding invitation.

Azriel's heart pounded so loud he could barely hear anything else. The words blurred together, but he saw the names, clear as day, her name intertwined with another. She was marrying someone else.

He closed the card, his hands shaking as he handed it back to Rhys. "She's moving on," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. It was a statement, but also a question, as if he needed confirmation that this was real, that he hadn't imagined it.

Rhysand's expression softened, a flicker of sympathy in his gaze. "She deserves happiness, Azriel. And so do you."

The words struck him like a physical blow, and he looked away, unable to meet Rhys's eyes. Happiness. He had thought he could give that to Skye once, that they could carve out a life together, despite the challenges, despite the bond that had torn at his heart. But he had failed, and now she was moving forward, finding a happiness he hadn't been able to provide.

"She's found someone who makes her feel... whole," Rhys continued gently. "Someone who makes her feel valued. I think you know how much that means to her."

Azriel's jaw tightened, a wave of pain crashing over him. He had once believed he could be that person for her, that he could be enough. But he hadn't been. And now, it was too late.

He turned away, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains, their peaks sharp against the sky. "I wanted that for her too," he murmured, barely aware he had spoken aloud.

Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "She's not the only one who deserves to move forward, Az. You've punished yourself enough. It's time to start living again."

Azriel's fists clenched at his sides, and he forced himself to breathe, to remain steady. "I don't know how to do that," he admitted, his voice rough. "Not without her."

Rhys sighed, his expression filled with quiet understanding. "I won't pretend it's easy. But you've survived worse than this, Azriel. And you still have a future, even if it's not the one you envisioned."

Azriel took a shaky breath, the weight of Rhys's words settling over him. He knew, deep down, that Rhys was right. He had to find a way forward, to pick up the pieces of himself and keep moving. But the thought of a future without Skye, of a life where he would never see her smile, never hold her again... it felt impossible.

"You should come back to Velaris," Rhys urged. "Be with those who care about you. We can help you through this."

Azriel shook his head, his gaze distant. "I can't," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Not yet."

He could feel Rhys studying him, the silent offer lingering between them, but Azriel couldn't bring himself to accept it. Not now, when the wound was still so raw, when every breath felt like a reminder of what he had lost.

After a moment, Rhys nodded, stepping back. "You know where to find us when you're ready," he said softly.

Azriel managed a nod, watching as Rhys disappeared, leaving him alone once more. He stood there for a long time, the invitation still clutched in his hand, the finality of it settling over him like a shroud.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, he finally turned and walked back to his cabin, the weight of his solitude pressing down on him. He had lost her, and he had no one to blame but himself. And as he lay down that night, the memories came flooding back, a relentless torment that reminded him of the love he'd thrown away.

In the silence, he let himself grieve, let himself remember every moment with Skye, every laugh, every touch, every promise they had made. And when the tears finally came, he didn't fight them, letting the sorrow consume him, knowing that this was his punishment, his penance for the choices he had made.