Light of the Dawn

22. Come Back to Me

The air in the House of Wind was thick with tension as Azriel arrived, still cradling Isarella in his arms. His steps were steady but desperate, his wings drooping under the weight of exhaustion and fear. Her body was limp against his chest, her face ghostly pale, her breaths shallow and uneven. The others were already waiting, and as Azriel crossed the threshold, Cassian stepped forward, alarm flashing across his face.

"Az, you're bleeding!" Cassian exclaimed, pointing to the crimson streaks soaking through Azriel's clothes.

But as Azriel moved, shifting Isarella ever so slightly, the horrifying truth became clear.
The blood wasn't his. It was hers. The sheer volume of it was staggering, seeping through her tattered clothing and dripping onto the floor in dark, vivid pools.

"Oh gods," Feyre whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

Azriel froze, his eyes locking onto the blood.
His breathing hitched as he lowered her gently onto a nearby chaise, his movements frantic but careful. Her small frame looked even more fragile under the golden light of the room, her body riddled with open wounds, burns, and deep gashes.

"I told you," Isarella whispered, her voice barely audible, a faint, trembling smile ghosting her lips. "I told you... you wouldn't make it in time."

"No," Azriel choked out, his voice breaking as he knelt beside her. "No, don't say that. You're going to be fine. I have you now.
You're safe." His hand hovered over her cheek, afraid to touch her, as if his touch might shatter her entirely.

Isarella raised a trembling hand to his face, her blood-slicked fingers brushing against his cheek. Her touch was weak, a faint echo of the strength she once carried. "I love you," she whispered, her voice cracking, her body shivering uncontrollably.

Azriel's heart splintered. "Rhys! Get Madja!" he roared, his voice trembling with panic.

Eris limped into the room, his face ashen.
"No," he whispered, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. "She's-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Azriel barked, his voice sharp enough to cut stone.

The others were frozen in place, their faces pale and stricken. Cassian wrapped an arm around Nesta, his own tears silently falling, while Feyre buried her face in Rhysand's chest, her shoulders shaking. The metallic tang of blood filled the room, suffocating and oppressive.

Isarella let out a faint, broken sob, her lips trembling as she whispered, "I'm so...cold." Her body convulsed with shivers, her skin damp with sweat and blood. "Az...I'm dying."

"No," Azriel said, his voice cracking as tears streamed freely down his face. "No, you're not. You will not die today. Do you hear me?" He grasped her trembling hands, his shadows swirling around her as if trying to shield her from the inevitability closing in. "I just got you back. You're not leaving me. Rhys!" he screamed again, his voice raw with desperation.

Rhysand appeared with Madja in tow, her face grave as she took in the scene before her. "Let me see her," Madja said, her tone steady but laced with urgency.

Azriel hesitated, clutching Isarella tightly for a moment before reluctantly releasing her to Madja's care. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking, his hands trembling as they hovered over Isarella's bloodied form. "Please save her. I can't—I can't lose her. I can't..." His voice dissolved into broken sobs as he cradled his head in his hands.

Madja placed her hands on Isarella, her power flaring to life. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined the extent of the damage. Her back was torn to shreds from the serrated whips, deep stab wounds marred her legs, and burns covered large swaths of her skin. Infection had set in, and her body was failing, too weak to heal fast enough.