Ziláa
The first thing I noticed was the sound, the faint hum of the city beyond the walls, voices drifting through open windows, and the soft rustle of trees in the wind. It was nothing like the silence of the dungeon.
I blinked, light pouring in through the gauzy curtains, golden and soft. The bed beneath me was impossibly warm, the blankets cocooning me in a way that felt foreign. Every inch of my body ached, a bone-deep pain that reminded me I wasn't dreaming, I was alive.
And then came the voices.
Muffled at first, but they grew louder, a low murmur outside the room. They were familiar, cautious but tense. I turned my head toward the door, the motion slow and laborious.
The door opened, shadows spilling in before him.
Azriel.
He froze in the doorway, his wings partially flared, his hazel eyes locking onto mine as though he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. The raw intensity of the gaze hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe.
"You're awake," he said softly, his voice rough and low.
My lips parted, but no words came out, my throat was dry, my mind too scattered to form coherent thoughts.
"Ziláa," he murmured, stepping closer. His voice cracked and I saw the way his scarred hands flexed at his sides, as though restraining from rushing to me.
I wanted to say something, but the memories surged too quickly—the dungeon, the cold, the pain, the hopelessness. My breath hitched and I turned my face away, my fingers clutching at the blanket.
He was by my side in an instant, his knees hitting the floor beside the bed. His shadows curled protectively around us, brushing against my skin as if to remind me I wasn't alone.
"I'm here," he said, his voice steady but quiet. "I'm here Ziláa. You don't have to say anything."
My chest tightened, the weight of his words cracking something inside me. I swallowed hard, blinking back the burning in my eyes. "You found me," I whispered, the words barely audible.
His head bowed for a moment, his black hair falling over his face, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep, shuddering breath. "I should've found you sooner." His voice was thick with guilt.
"I..." I started, "I thought..." still unable to get my words out.
His lips pressed into a thin line, and he knelt beside the bed, his shadows wrapping even tighter like smoke, possessive and protective. "You thought I wouldn't come." His voice wasn't a question—it was an accusation, aimed squarely at himself.
I turned my head away. Unable to meet his gaze as I spoke "you said you wouldn't. That day..."
The memory of his words, spoken in anger, burned in my mind.
"I lied," He said, the words sharp, his jaw clenching. "I lied because I was a coward. Because I thought I could scare you into fighting, into staying alive. But I was wrong for that." His hand hovered near mine, hesitant. "I'll never make that mistake again."
YOU ARE READING
A Court of Watchful Shadows
Fantasy"I don't need to tell you pricks anything, I have my own reasons for being here and they don't concern three idiots who won't-" I was cut off as a force came slamming into me. I look up in anger at the man who was now towering over me, his nostrils...
