To the Shadowsinger | Azriel

Prologue

The War

Raisa knew she made a mistake as soon as she saw a head cleanly removed from a body at a single swipe of a sword. She had thought her mother was exaggerating The War, or worse, excluding her because she was only seven years old.

For once in her life, Raisa wished she had listened to her mother. She would be home, tucked in a warm bed with a cup of hot chocolate. Instead, she stood over a battlefield and watched a slaughter. What was only minutes felt like days as fae with batlike wings came in strong and tore through a host of high faes.

She was a high fae herself, at least mostly, she couldn't believe lesser fae stood a chance.

In the end, it was a black flag sporting a mountain with three stars over the peaks sailing victoriously on the battlefield. The field was littered with bodies. So many bodies. And the stench had been carried by the wind and filled Raisa's nose. She emptied her stomach into a bush.

Raisa had come so far. She winnowed all the way to Prythian from Vallahan. Her curiosity might get her killed one day but she couldn't help herself as she patted her boot to make sure her knife was still there and stumbled down the hill to the battlefield filled with death. What was one more little hike? She had to make sure her mother wasn't among the dead.

She gagged as she stepped over a fae filled with arrows, a winged lesser fae with half a wing missing, and a fae with barely a face. The horrors went on. Raisa didn't even realize she was crying.

She kept checking though, checking the face of each female fae body she passed. Her face was covered in mud and blood from wiping the tears.

A crow squawking at her made her jump. She smiled when she saw it was only a bird.

Then she saw a fae male. It was too far to see his face, but he wore elegant black clothes. He looked important. He walked through the dead as smoothly as a storm cloud.

Raisa was small enough to duck behind two dead faes piled on top of each other, but she watched the fae male walk through the battlefield.

At first, she thought he was Death. The male stopped and nudged a winged lesser fae with the toe of his boot, looking disappointed. He slowly made his way closer to her, gently pushing over bodies with his foot. When he was close enough, she could see the handsome shadows of his face, it only made him scarier.

Run, every part of her body told her. She trembled but her body locked up and refused to move.

"Report, Shadowsinger," Death's voice held the authority of a king. Raisa didn't see anyone else. He couldn't be talking to her?

"Rhysand is back at the camp," the deep voice made her jump. There was no one there. And then she saw shadows move and come together to create the most beautiful male she had ever seen. She admired him like she did her dolls. Shadows swarmed him like hornets but through the shadows she saw jewels of cobalt blue. Her eyes traveled up to his face, it held no emotions yet she could sense a sadness in his eyes.

His eyes were suddenly on her. She hadn't made a single sound but his eyes shot from Death to her as if she had screamed.

That feeling of running was gone and replaced with comfort. The feeling was warm and cozy enough that she forgot about the reek of rotting flesh for a moment.

And just as quickly as they had appeared, Death and the beautiful winged fae were gone.