Light of the Dawn

12. The Bond

The following night, Isarella stayed by her father, Thesan, tending to the injured soldiers. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the quiet murmurs of those recovering. Thesan was focused on his work, but his eyes never strayed far from his daughter. Something about her demeanor had changed, a subtle shift he couldn't quite place.

"Isa, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. He studied her face, his gaze narrowing as he noticed the pallor of her skin. "You've gone very pale all of a sudden."

Isarella tried to smile, but her body betrayed her. She looked around, her chest tightening, when suddenly, a sharp, searing pain tore through her shoulders, a stabbing sensation that felt like it was pulling her apart. It was as though wings were being torn from her, and she screamed in agony.

"Thesan, do something!!" Perseus shouted, his voice thick with panic as he rushed to her side.

Isarella's scream echoed through the tent, her body arching from the pain. Thesan rushed to help, panic flooding his veins as he desperately tried to stabilize her. "Isarella, what's happening?" he pleaded, but the words were lost in the shrieks of pain.

The agony was overwhelming, and before she could even comprehend what was happening, she passed out, her body going limp in her father's arms.

"THESAN!" Rhysand's voice cut through the chaos, and both Thesan and Perseus turned toward the sound. Rhysand was stumbling toward them, his face pale with distress. His wings were tattered, and he was clinging to a barely conscious Azriel, the Spymaster's wings drenched in blood.

Thesan and Perseus wasted no time. They rushed over, their hearts hammering in their chests as they gently took Azriel from Rhysand's arms. The High Lord of Night, though visibly strained, nodded toward them.

"Get him to a tent," Rhysand urged, his voice low, the fear evident in his eyes.

Without hesitation, they carried Azriel into the nearest tent, placing him gently on a cot. Thesan turned back to his daughter, whose limp form was still in Rhysand's arms, her face ashen and ghostly.

"Rhysand, I need you to stay with my daughter," Thesan said, his voice firm but strained. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but please, stay with her."

Rhysand nodded, looking from Isarella to the fallen Spymaster. "The Spymaster isn't in good shape," he said quietly, his voice heavy with guilt and concern.

Thesan's eyes darted toward Azriel, his heart racing as he examined the damage to his wings. Azriel's breathing was shallow, his face twisted in pain as he struggled to stay conscious. Thesan's hands trembled slightly as he expanded the Spymaster's wings to assess the damage. Azriel's body twitched in response, and a howl of pain escaped his lips.

"Perseus, give him water. This won't be easy to fix," Thesan ordered, his voice filled with urgency.

Perseus moved quickly, grabbing a canteen from the nearby table and rushing to Azriel's side. He hesitated for a moment, looking at the Spymaster's broken body, but then gently tilted the canteen to his lips. "You need to drink, Spymaster," Perseus said softly, his voice calm but filled with worry.

Azriel's eyes fluttered open, barely able to focus on Perseus. His lips parted, and through labored breaths, he whispered, "Isarella..." His voice was hoarse, almost lost in the air.

Perseus's heart clenched as Azriel drank from the canteen, as if the water was a lifeline he had desperately needed. When Azriel finished, Perseus set the canteen aside, his gaze lingering on the Spymaster's face.

"She's going to be okay," Perseus whispered, more to reassure himself than anyone else. "Oh my..You're her mate, aren't you? You'll both be okay."

Azriel's gaze met his briefly, his eyes filled with exhaustion and pain, but a flicker of recognition crossed them. His nod was slow, weak. And then, just as quickly as he had opened his eyes, his head fell back, his body going limp as he slipped back into unconsciousness.