#asterin x reader

[shadowdaddies]

Here's my Throne of Glass masterlist! I'll keep my posts linked here🩶

✨= fluff

❤️‍🔥= smut

💧= angst

💥 = action (ka-pow!)

Manon

❤️‍🔥My Girl (Manon x Reader)

✨Roar of the Wind (Manon x Reader)

✨Lead the Way (Manon x Reader)

💧✨ Balance (Manon x Reader)

💧✨Beloved (Manon x Reader)

💧✨ In Your Corner (Manon x Reader)

✨Lift Me Up (Manon x Reader)

✨Golden (Manon x Reader)

Dorian

💧✨❤️‍🔥King's Queen (Dorian x Reader)

💧✨❤️‍🔥 Masquerade (Dorian x Reader)

❤️‍🔥Phantom Touch (Dorian x Reader)

💧✨Distraction (Dorian x Reader)

✨The Bet (Dorian x Reader)

❤️‍🔥NSFW Headcanons

Aelin

✨All I Want for Yulemas (Aelin x Reader)

Aedion

❤️‍🔥Serenity (Aedion x Reader)

Asterin

✨Taking Flight (Asterin x Reader)

❤️‍🔥Get a Room (Asterin x Reader)

✨Getting Lost (Asterin x Reader)

✨Keeping Secrets (Asterin x Reader)

❤️‍🔥Stress Relief (Asterin x Reader)

❤️‍🔥One Bed (Asterin x Reader)

Vesta

✨New Beginnings (Vesta x Reader)

Gavriel

💧✨Always Yours (Gavriel x Reader)

✨Mine (Gavriel x Reader)

❤️‍🔥Every Part (Gavriel x Reader)

Fenrys

❤️‍🔥Wild Things (Fenrys x Reader)

✨Anywhere (Fenrys x Reader)

💧💥 ✨Reunited (Fenrys x Reader)

↳ Part 2 Part 3

💧✨Hope Reborn (Fenrys x Reader)

Lorcan

✨Flawless (Lorcan x Reader)

❤️‍🔥So Lorcan DID (Lorcan x Reader)

��When You’re Sick Headcanons

Elide

💧✨❤️‍🔥Solstice Confessions (Elide x Reader)

Poly Fics

✨Protective Instincts (Rowaelin x Reader)

✨Puppy Love (Rowaelin x Reader)

✨Get Clean (Rowaelin x Reader)

✨Better Mood (Manorian x Reader)

💧✨❤️‍🔥Attention, Please (Manon x Reader x Asterin)

✨ Cold Hands, Warm Heart (Manon x Reader x Asterin)

✨Any Excuse (Asterin x Reader x Sorrel)

✨Lucky Me (Asterin x Reader x Vesta)

✨We Have Now (Elorcan x Reader)

💧Meant to Be (dark!Manorian x Reader)

↳ Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

the beautiful dividers on my blog are by saradika-graphics

[throneofsapphics]

supposed to be us

Asterin Blackbeak x Reader

Summary: "tell me it was a lie" "I can't" with Asterin

Warnings: angst

A/N: for this!

“You’ve always told me you hated it,” you threw the words at her, knowing they’d have no effect. “We were supposed to find a better life, together.” 

She reached out and caught your hand, and despite your current anger you let your fingers curl around hers, perhaps for the last time. You stared at the gold flecked black eyes, searching for something, anything.

“That’s what this is for, once this is done, I can take you home,” she squeezed your hand, flashed a grin that didn’t meet her eyes. 

“To your home,” you countered. A home you’ve never seen, went unsaid, but you knew she saw the meaning in your eyes. When she didn’t reply, you pushed. “Tell me it was a lie,” she blinked twice. “Tell me you never meant to go with me.”

“I can’t,” her words were soft, but dealt a blow hard enough you could’ve sworn you felt your heart shattering. It would’ve been easier if she was lying from the beginning, if she’d never intended to go in the first place. To you, there was something worse about knowing she changed her mind, that once she’d considered you enough, that once she would’ve picked you. 

“What changed?”

Asterin hesitated, but spoke after a few moments, “I can feel it, whatever this is - I need to be there.” You tried to drop her hand, but she held on tighter. “None of this changes how I feel about you.” 

“Only our future,” you muttered. It was, of course, out of the question for you to go with her. First of all, you wouldn’t, and second you kept your relationship secret for good reason. “When do you leave?” 

“In the morning,” she pulled you closer, her golden hair - loose, brushing against your shoulders as you wrapped yourself around her. One more night. It would never be enough, but if it was all you were allowed together you’d take it. 

No amount of words would change what had to happen, so instead you let her lead you to the bedroom, let your hands and eyes memorize, let yourself fall asleep with one hand buried in golden locks, waking in the morning to a cold bed and all traces of her gone. 

[aeyla]

No thought head empty… just the Thirteen

I am thinking of sitting on Manon or the thirteen’s (and Petrah’s) faces on this fine evening like-

It would definitely range from rough and overstimulating to soft and sweet but still overstimulating, you’re not walking out without wobbly legs

Just imagine being the Thirteen’s plaything. 😫

They keep you safe, provide food, shelter etc. And in return, you’re their toy. To use as they see fit. Though Manon keeps a tighter grip on your leash than the rest, wanting to have you to herself. But there isn’t a night where you’re not trembling and whimpering from the pleasure they bestow to your body.

Especially on a night like that. Having you move between them, planting your wet cunt on their faces, allowing the witches to feast on their favourite meal. Seeing how long you can last before you can no longer hold yourself upright. The rest would swoop in to help, of course.

Hands roam your body, you can’t keep up with whom they belong to. They leave taunting and teasing touches to your exposed skin. Nimble fingers tweak and tug your nipples before mouths are replacing them, biting and sucking your sensitive peaks. You can tell it’s Vesta from the way she swiftly flicks her tongue over your nipple, loves the sounds the action pulls from yours lips. Swollen and wet from the countless times your mouth has clashed with another.

With a whine, your head drops to Sorrel’s shoulder as Asterin continues to ravish your cunt from beneath you. Your hips rock against her mouth, sensitivity aside, you still want more. From the gleam her eyes, you know she’s getting off on how you’re grinding shamelessly against her tongue. You wish you could bury your fingers in her hair, tug on the golden locks. Yet your hands were bound behind your back the moment your cloak was stripped from you. The only clothing you’re allowed to wear in their presence.

Now with your head leaning against Sorrel. You’re giving Manon perfect access to that pretty neck of yours. She bites, licks, marks. Mumbling against your skin as those iron nails run ever so gently down the expanse of your throat. Freezing against the warmth seeping from you. You can’t help but whimper. Manon grins, continuing her exploration of your throat, her words drowning out the sweet praise coming from one of the other witches. You’re only focused on Manon’s voice as she taunts her kitten for breaking so easily.

I will forever be upset that this isn’t the life i’m living

[infinitedivinity]

manon blackbeak x fem!reader

forbidden love, blueblood!reader, angst, relationship won't work out, she wants to protect you, break up?? idk I js like angst, I didn't reread it or edit it so it's raw

Manon didn't look at you once during lunch. She sat at her table with her Thirteen and she did not look at you. You tried not to feel hurt or betrayed by it, but her eyes lingering on Asterin as she spoke, and the way she bickered with a Yellowlegs from across her table, it made you feel invisible.

Yours and Manon's relationship had to be kept a secret, otherwise your punishment for your star-crossed romance could result in death.

You were an unimportant Blueblood witch. But Manon? Manon was the Wing Leader. She was a powerful, fearless witch with a reputation for slaughter and madness. Manon led her Thirteen into countless victories in battle, and you were as useful as a servant.

The lunch hour went by slowly, but you knew she'd meet you just below the mountain at nightfall, like she always did.

When the night came, you held your cloak tighter to your chest as your boots crunched in the dead leaves on the ground. Manon's long, silver hair shone bright under the moon. She was beautiful, just as she always was.

Abraxos seemed to notice you dirst, his jaw clicking in greeting. You smiled sadly as you reached a hand, in which he pressed his nose into, huffing warmly into your palm.

"Hello, Abraxos." You spoke softly.

Manon's golden gaze finally slid to you. She looked tense. There was a bit of distance between the two of you. You knew, you could feel, that something was wrong.

"You did not come last night." You said to her, "Or the night before." Manon's eyes seemed to dim as she looked at you, looked at your hand bunching your cloak to your chest.

"I had things to do. Duties to attend to." Was her only reply.

"You did not send a letter." Your voice rose with distane, with anger.

"I did not have time for it."

You scoffed and stepped backwards once, "Well, you used to." Manon blinked at you, a small sigh coming from her lips as she glanced away.

"You have nothing to say? You said we'd make this work." You argued, "You and I both knew the risks to this and all of a sudden you're flaking from the only time I get to see you properly?" You continued. Abraxos let out a soft whine at the sound of your arguing.

When Manon did not reply, your heart felt heavy in your chest, and your eyes began to water. "Manon. We agreed to this, and I hate it. I hate not being able to love you as loudly and as freely as I wish to. I hate not being able to touch you, to feel you, to look at you properly." You sounded like you were begging. You were pleading to her to tell you what was wrong.

You looked down at your boots and huffed. "Okay. If you don't want this anymore-"

"I want this." Manon interrupted. She seemed surprised with herself to talk about what she wanted with you. When you glanced up, her eyes were fixed on you.

"But our lives..." She closed her eyes, brow creasing, "Your life. Your life is in danger the longer we do this. Our families...our past...who we are..." When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with something like admiration, like undying devotion, like love.

"I want you safe. And the best way I can achieve that is by leaving." Manon finally said. You almost gasped, "That is unfair."

"Everything is unfair." Manon whispered harshly. "They will have your head. And I will never forgive myself for it. So, please." She sighed once more, putting a hand on the belt of Abraxos' saddle. "Go back to bed."

"You're being unfair." You repeated to her, watching as she climbed onto the back of her wyvern. "You're being unfair, Manon, you cannot do this to me." You said, gripping Abraxos' scaled leg as you watched her look forward. "You cannot just leave me here!" You yelled at her. "We will find a way, Manon. We have to."

Manon did not spare you a second glance as she kicked Abraxos' side, and with a whine, he moved forward, spread his wings, and they were airborne.

You felt the upcoming winter's cold closer than before as you watched them soar into the sky. She had come tonight to leave you. And alone you were for the rest of the night, walking back to your room with ice bitten cheeks and crystal tears rolling down your face.

[moonlitstoriess]

Heyy!! Could I request a Azriel x witch reader. Like Blackbeak clan (I’m reading the TOG series & loving Manon & the 13 rn) & maybe she’s like another spy or one of Amren’s friends from another world and he doesn’t trust her at first but she ends up helping the IC with koschei or something n he finds himself more interested in her

Touch Me and Bleed- Azriel x fem!witch reader (oneshot)

Summary: A Blackbeak witch, loyal to a distant queen and bound by blood and war, crosses into Prythian to hunt a death god. Azriel doesn’t trust her—but when shadows meet iron, loyalty and hatred blur into something far more dangerous.

A/N: This was a very exciting thing to write!! Thank you so much anon for requesting such an interesting idea. I hope you enjoy it🫶

Warnings: violence, blood, angst, some sprinkle of fluff? open ending (happy-ish?)

See masterlist

The rift pulsed against the quiet stone at the edge of Velaris, its shifting light painting faces with harsh, unnatural shadows. The Inner Circle stood close, watching.

Azriel arrived last, moving like a shadow melting into the crowd. His wings folded behind him, but the restless stir beneath his skin told a different story--unease, suspicion, something like anger.

Koschei had been creating more headaches for everyone in the past few weeks--his dark influence seeping into the mortal realms, twisting the dead into unholy servants and corrupting the very fabric of the Shadowlands. Villages near the border reported disappearances, strange creatures prowling at night, and whispers of a power growing beyond control. The Inner Circle knew time was running out. If Koschei wasn’t stopped soon, the entire realm would drown in his rising tide of death and chaos.

That is exactly why Amren had proposed to call in one of her "otherworldly strange" friends (Cassian's words). Of course, Rhysand and Feyre wouldn't allow anyone in without a proper briefing about them. Amren had insisted that there is no one better suited for this than her apparent friend, Y/N.

And Amren didn't shy away from giving all the essential informations about her to them.

Y/N Blackbeak. An Ironteeth witch--Azriel still couldn't understand how does one have sharp iron teeth and claws--part of the Blackbeak coven. Or was. Apparently, there used to be three different covens which were later on all united together with the Crochans under one queen. Manon Blackbeak. This great shift had happened during a huge war that they were all in.

Y/N is very loyal to her "sisters" and even more so to her queen. That part Azriel understood. Rhysand held his loyalty the same way: earned in blood, kept through sacrifice. But this witch didn’t come from their courts, their histories. She belonged to a different world entirely.

She was known for being one of the most ruthless among them. A hunter. A killer. Not gifted with elegant magic, but with precision, instinct, and a taste for blood. Her body was a weapon--iron teeth, iron nails, every strike calculated. Countless deaths were tied to her name, most of them earned in silence.

She had tracked monsters across war-torn mountains in her world. Killed gods, if the stories were true. But what made her dangerous now wasn’t myth--it was knowledge.

She had seen Koschei before. Fought things he made. Abominations born of rot and death-magic. And she’d survived. More than that--she remembered. She knew how he moved, how he hid pieces of himself. She knew the scent of his work. The feel of it in the earth, in the bodies he left behind.

“She doesn’t use shadows or spells,” Amren had told them. “She doesn’t need to. She finds things that don’t want to be found. And when she does, she ends them.”

After the death of "The Thirteen", she took the place of Asterin Blackbeak as the new second-in-command to queen Manon. Her "Wyvern" (whatever creature that is, Azriel still hasn't understood that part either) is the largest and most ruthless-just like her apparently.

"And what exactly happens when she walks in here? Do we just you know- greet her like a normal guest or-"

"Just because she is from another world and a witch, doesn't mean that she is an abnormal creature, Cassian." Amren hissed back, cutting off Cassians curiosity.

Azriel's head snapped back up, coming back to reality, his shadows whispering faintly at the edge of his senses like they’d felt something shift in the air. He narrowed his eyes toward the glowing rift, watching the edges throb and flicker--unsettled, like the veil between worlds was starting to tear.

"In any case, I believe she is very unique. I mean I know that your friends have all been quite unique but with the way you described this specific friend has me very interested. I mean, an ironteeth witch? drinks men's blood? wish I could do that sometimes. And I'm sure I'm not the only one excited, right Nesta?" Mor winked at the female beside her who only gave a small nod.

“She’s close,” Amren muttered, fingers moving in sharp, precise patterns as she worked the ancient sigils surrounding the portal. They pulsed faintly beneath her hand, reacting to her touch like blood answering a heartbeat. “The rift is thinning.”

“Great,” Cassian said, rolling his shoulders. “Because nothing says ‘safe and sane’ like summoning a death-witch with a wyvern from another dimension into Velaris.”

Feyre arched a brow. “You’re the one who wanted to spar with her, remember?”

Cassian threw her a grin. “I said I might spar with her. If she doesn’t bite.”

“She probably will,” Mor added brightly, brushing a curl over her shoulder. “Amren made her sound like a feral bat crossed with a blade.”

Amren didn’t look up. “She’s more refined than that.”

“Sure,” Rhysand drawled, his tone easy but his stance alert, shadows curled near his boots. “Refined in the way a storm is refined. Or a plague.”

“She’s not here to impress any of you,” Amren snapped, her eyes flicking briefly to Rhys. “She’s here because Koschei is getting smarter. Bolder. And she’s one of the only people who’s fought the things he leaves behind and walked away.”

Azriel said nothing, but his jaw tightened. That was the part that stuck with him—the walking away. He’d seen what Koschei’s creations did to people. The kind of twisted, broken things they left behind. You didn’t just walk away from that unless you were something worse.

Nesta finally spoke, quiet but firm. “And what happens if she’s not what you think she is?”

Amren didn’t flinch. “Then you kill her.”

A long silence settled after that.

Mor blinked. “Wow. Casual.”

Feyre stepped forward slightly. “Let’s assume she’s not a threat.”

“We don’t assume,” Azriel said, voice low. “We watch.”

Rhys nodded once in agreement. “The moment she steps through, we gauge her. Carefully. No grand welcomes.”

“She won’t expect one,” Amren said, almost amused. “She hates this kind of thing. Told me once that ‘warm greetings are for weak hearts.’”

Cassian whistled. “What a ray of sunshine.”

Azriel tuned them out after that. The voices blurred at the edges as his attention zeroed back in on the portal. It was changing now--deepening, folding in on itself, the color shifting from silver to blood-red, then back again. Whatever lay on the other side was moving closer.

His shadows recoiled. Not from fear--no, they didn’t fear. But they recognized what was coming through. A presence that wasn’t born of this realm. A presence used to war and silence and blood.

Azriel’s hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger.

And then--

The rift pulsed once, hard.

The air thinned.

The ground vibrated.

And something stepped through.

The pulse echoed like a drumbeat in Azriel’s bones.

The portal split open with a hiss--no thunder, no blaze of magic. Just a tearing sound, like skin peeling from flesh. The air went sharp with the scent of iron.

And then she stepped through.

Boots first. Blood-crusted, weather-worn. A slow, deliberate step. Then another.

Her leathers were torn at the seams in places, dark with dried blood and soot. Her iron nails caught the lamplight--glinting like small, wicked blades. Her eyes were pale gold, colder than ice, older than winter, and her mouth--Gods, those teeth--flashed in a quiet sneer as she looked them all over.

Behind her, the creature emerged.

Azriel had seen many beasts in his life. He’d fought through battlefields soaked in gore. But the thing that slithered half-formed from the fading rift, a massive wyvern, its wings frayed at the edges, claws curled into the stone, was not a beast. It was a weapon. A dying one, perhaps, flickering and insubstantial in this realm, but no less terrifying.

It let out a low, guttural noise--like a growl, like grief--and folded its wings as it took position at her back.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Then Y/N Blackbeak tilted her head, eyeing the group like she was picking which one she’d kill first if she had to.

Her voice, when it came, was rough like gravel. “This is Velaris?”

Cassian blinked. “I was expecting more screaming.”

“I’m disappointed too,” she said flatly.

Mor let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief. “Charming.”

Rhysand stepped forward, calm but cautious. “You must be Y/N.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Depends. Who’s asking?”

Rhys inclined his head. “High Lord of the Night Court.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to Feyre, then to Amren. The only one she seemed to acknowledge was Amren, who gave her the faintest nod.

Azriel watched her every movement. The way she stood--not like a diplomat, not like a soldier. Like a predator. Relaxed but alert. Ready to rip out a throat if needed.

He didn’t trust her. Not even a little.

But damn if he didn’t believe the stories.

“So,” she said after a beat, iron nails glinting as she flexed her fingers. “Which one of you is going to point me to Koschei’s rot?”

Azriel’s voice was out before he thought to stop it. Cold. Controlled.

“That depends. Are you here to help… or hunt?”

Y/N turned to face him fully for the first time.

And smiled.

There was no warmth in it. Only teeth.

“Why not both?”

Rhysand’s expression didn’t shift, but Feyre stepped closer, the edge in her voice barely masked.

“And what exactly do you want in return for this help?”

Y/N’s head tilted slightly, as if she were listening for something only she could hear. Her wyvern gave a low growl in response--its translucent shape pulsing faintly behind her like it barely existed in this realm at all.

“I want nothing,” Y/N said, voice flat. “No gold. No favor. No alliance.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you here?”

“I owe a debt,” she replied, finally looking away from Rhysand to glance at Amren. “To her. She saved my life once. This repays it.”

A beat passed.

Cassian’s brow shot up. “Wait--what?” He looked between them. “When the hell did that happen?”

Amren didn’t even glance his way. She waved a small, dismissive hand like swatting a fly. “None of your business, brute.”

The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable. Even Mor’s smile had vanished.

Azriel’s shadows stirred at his shoulders, quiet but tense. He didn’t take his eyes off Y/N, not because he thought she would strike, but because he could tell she could. Her posture hadn’t changed, but her presence filled the entire courtyard like a second sky pressing down on them.

Nesta, beside him, said nothing either. But when he glanced her way-

It startled him.

Not fear in her eyes. Not suspicion.

Admiration.

A subtle tilt to her chin. A slight parting of her lips. The faintest crease in her brow like something about the witch had unraveled a knot she hadn’t realized she carried.

Azriel had never seen Nesta look at anyone like that- not even Feyre. Not even Cassian.

It pulled at something in his chest, something he refused to name.

Then Amren stepped forward.

“As I told you, Rhys,” she said, casually brushing nonexistent dust off her tunic, “I would never bring someone here I didn’t trust.”

She gave the High Lord a pointed look.

“Well- actually, she only trusts me,” Amren added with a sharp smile. “And I trust her. Which should be enough.”

Rhysand exhaled slowly. He gave her a long, unreadable look. Then a single nod. Barely perceptible, but permission all the same.

That was when Feyre cleared her throat, wrapping her arms around herself like the temperature had dropped a few degrees. “Right,” she said, voice brisk, steady. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

Y/N said nothing. She didn’t smile. Didn’t thank them.

She just turned toward the House.

And the wyvern followed.

The doors to the House of Wind shut behind them with a soft thud, the sound echoing through the wide, vaulted chamber. It was quiet in a way only high places could be: thick with power, history, and something more fragile beneath.

Y/N walked with the same quiet dominance she’d arrived with. She didn’t gawk at the vaulted ceilings or the glowing lights that flickered overhead. She didn’t ask questions or offer comments. Her wyvern trailed a few steps behind, its form wavering, too large for the space and too ghostly to care.

Rhysand led the way, flanked by Feyre. Neither said a word as they entered the informal war room, but every step radiated the tension of two rulers trying not to snap the moment a guest said the wrong thing.

Cassian leaned against the long table in the center, trying too hard to look casual. Mor took her usual seat, legs crossed, eyes glittering with a mix of curiosity and calculation. Nesta moved silently to a shadowed corner, where she could observe everything without being in the middle of it.

Azriel didn’t sit. He remained standing, hands behind his back, shadows curling faintly around his boots. Watching.

Y/N didn’t sit either.

She stood at the far end of the room, her back straight, eyes scanning the windows like she was mapping exit routes.

Feyre spoke first. “Amren says you’ve seen Koschei’s work. What exactly did you encounter?”

Y/N’s response came without hesitation. “Plague-spirits. Hollowed corpses. Men turned inside out, walking on bones they didn’t grow with. Magic that smells like rot and sounds like begging.”

Mor blinked. “Sounds delightful.”

Y/N ignored her. “It was worse near rivers. He favors places that border things—life and death, land and water, flesh and memory. Thresholds.”

“That lines up with what we’ve seen,” Rhys said, glancing at Feyre, then back at Y/N. “And you’re sure what you saw is the same as what’s happening here?”

“I know his scent,” Y/N said simply. “You don’t forget that kind of rot.”

The room went quiet again.

“Why didn’t you kill him in your world?” Azriel asked, voice low.

She turned her head toward him. Not hostile. Not cold. Just… empty. Like the question was too simple for the weight it carried.

“Because he left before I could. Slipped through one of the last cracks between our worlds. I followed him.” A pause. “Eventually.”

“So this is a hunt,” Rhysand said, folding his arms.

Y/N didn’t answer. Just glanced at Amren.

Amren, lounging in her chair like none of this mattered in the slightest, rolled her eyes. “She’s not here for revenge or power plays, Rhys. I already told you.”

“Yes,” Rhys said quietly, “but it’s different hearing it from her.”

Y/N’s lip curled. “I am not your subject. I do not kneel to your throne.”

Feyre bristled, but Rhysand just nodded once. “Good. Then we’ll speak plainly.”

Azriel watched the exchange unfold in silence, but every word pressed at him like a blade against skin. He didn’t like her tone. Didn’t like her indifference. But something about it, the calm detachment, the bluntness, it rang true. She wasn’t playing them. If anything, she was already halfway out the door.

Nesta leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, eyes still fixed on Y/N. “You don’t care what happens to this world.”

“No,” Y/N said. “But I care what happens to Amren. And if she’s staying in this realm, then it’s in my interest to make sure it doesn’t turn into Koschei’s personal graveyard.”

Cassian let out a soft breath. “She saved your life?”

Y/N’s head tilted slightly. “She pulled me out of a god’s mouth. You don’t forget that.”

Cassian blinked. “Holy- wait, an actual god’s-”

“None of your business,” Amren said, sharp as a blade. Her expression didn’t waver. “Let it go.”

Silence again.

Azriel’s gaze drifted--not to the witch, but to Nesta.

There was that same look in her eyes. Admiration, yes--but also a flicker of something like recognition. Like she’d found something of herself reflected in the Ironteeth woman standing so calmly across the room.

Nesta didn’t mask it. Her jaw was tight, but her eyes were clear. Like she'd been waiting for someone to say the things Y/N had just said and mean them.

It unsettled him.

Not because he didn’t understand it.

Because he did.

Then Amren rose, smoothing down her tunic with a quick flick of her hand. “As I said, Rhysand,” she said, her voice taking on that ageless, steel-edged quality that still made the room hold its breath, “I wouldn’t bring someone into this court if I didn’t trust her.”

She turned to face him fully. “Well- she doesn’t trust any of you. Only me. But the sentiment stands.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Feyre cleared her throat, glancing at Rhys before offering the smallest of smiles. “Right. Well then… let’s go in, shall we?”

That was when Y/N finally stepped forward, calm and deliberate. She didn’t wait to be offered a seat- just took one, dragging the chair slightly apart from the others as if claiming neutral ground. From her small, worn satchel, she pulled out a thickly folded map. She spread it across the table in one sharp motion, weighing the corners down with nothing but her iron-cool presence.

It was a detailed map of Prythian, far more detailed than any Azriel had expected. But what caught everyone's eye weren’t the borders or mountains- they were the markings. Circles in black ink. Crossed-out towns. Arrows pointing to rivers, forests, patches of nothingness. Strange notations in a language none of them recognized.

"Amren was kind enough to have this sent to Erilea, my world, a few days prior so that I could get a good analysis and idea of what world I'm dealing with. I prefer to know what kind of battlefield I’m stepping onto before I start bleeding.”

Cassian let out a soft grunt that might’ve been impressed. Feyre leaned forward, brows drawn tight.

But before anyone could speak, Y/N turned her head and looked directly at Azriel--unflinching, sharp-eyed. Then, without a word, she raised both hands, slow and deliberate. The iron claws that had glinted moments before shimmered once, then retracted beneath her skin, leaving behind plain, clean nails.

She held his gaze as her jaw shifted with a soft click. When she parted her lips again, the iron teeth were gone, no fangs, no metal gleam. Just the unnerving stillness of a predator who had momentarily sheathed her weapons.

A show of restraint. Or a warning.

Azriel wasn’t sure which.

But it silenced the edge in him just a little. Not harmless. Never that. But perhaps… something else. Something controlled. His shadows recoiled and settled, just barely.

Then her voice cut through the quiet.

“I’m not staying long,” Y/N said. “Manon expects me to be back within forty-eight hours by our time. That translates to approximately three days here, give or take the way time bends between realms. Though I would say Erilea and Prythian are quite close. Hence the short time difference."

“You’re really just here to leave again?” Feyre asked, a mix of surprise and wariness.

“I’m not a diplomat. I don’t do tea and chatter. I was sent to deal with Koschei, nothing more.”

Azriel hated it, how direct she was. Hated how something in him respected it, too. No games. No fawning. Just teeth and strategy.

Rhysand finally spoke, his voice low. “And what have you learned about his movements so far?”

Y/N leaned over the map, tapping one of the circles in the north. “Koschei doesn’t spread like war. He spreads like sickness. Slow. Precise. Rotting the foundation of whatever he touches until it crumbles from within.”

She moved her finger down the map. “He doesn’t take cities. He takes people. A village falls quiet, and by the time you notice it’s gone, the surrounding land is already turning.”

She pointed to a forest near the border. “This was your first disappearance, yes? And this-” she tapped an area far west, “is where your scouts found bones that didn’t match any native species.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How the hell did she know that?

Cassian stepped forward now, tone sharpening. “So. What’s the plan?”

Y/N straightened. “The plan is to split into three teams. Exactly two per group. Koschei moves through mirrors-reflections, still water, glass--and he splits his attention. We need to do the same. Three fronts, three targets, three strikes.”

She looked around the room. “I’m leaving it to you to decide who goes with whom. I’m unfamiliar with your strengths, your tempers, and your… alliances.” Her eyes flicked to Mor, then Azriel, then Nesta.

“I assume your rulers,” she added, glancing at Feyre and Rhys, “will remain here to maintain court stability.”

Feyre opened her mouth to protest, but Rhys lifted a hand. “She’s right.”

Feyre scowled but said nothing more.

Y/N rolled the map to a smaller region now, tapping three points in a triangle. “These are the weak spots. I believe he’s testing them—probes, leaks, trying to open small rifts. We need to hit all three before he gets a foothold.”

“The groups will need a balance of flight, magic, and brute strength,” she continued. “One to track. One to strike. One to watch the shadows.”

Azriel felt her eyes flick briefly to him at the last one, but she didn’t linger.

Nesta, still watching from the edge of the room, finally spoke. “He’s drawing people in with promises, isn’t he? Not just killing--corrupting. Offering them something they want.”

Y/N’s expression shifted for the first time. Almost… approving.

“Exactly,” she said, tapping once on the table. “That’s how he breaks them. Promises them their lost lovers, their children, their second chances.”

She turned her head and pointed across the table. “Honestly, I’m starting to really like her.”

Nesta didn’t respond. But her mouth twitched.

And Azriel—

Well. He’d never admit it aloud. But he didn’t hate the sound of that either.

Then Mor clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Right, then. Who goes with whom?”

Cassian clapped his hands as well, eyes flicking around the room like he already knew how this would go. “Alright, we’ll need to be quick about this. I say we move at first light tomorrow.”

Amren snorted. “First light. Of course.”

Cassian leaned in, arms crossed over the table. “I’ll go with Nesta.” His tone left no room for argument. Nesta didn’t flinch. Didn’t smirk or roll her eyes. She only nodded, sharp and sure.

“Mor and I will take the eastern flank,” Amren said, like the matter had been settled long before anyone else had opened their mouths. Mor raised a brow but didn’t argue. She merely winked and added, “You’re lucky I like danger.”

That left Azriel.

And her.

Y/N was still standing beside the table, gaze down on the map, not watching the others as much as sensing them. When her head lifted, her eyes met Azriel’s again--dark, quiet, measuring.

Rhys glanced at them both, something unreadable in his face. “That leaves Azriel and Y/N.”

Of course it does, Azriel thought.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

Cassian’s brow twitched. “You two gonna be alright playing nice together?”

Y/N turned slightly, her arms folding across her chest. “I don’t need nice. I need effective.”

Azriel’s voice came quiet, colder than he meant. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

He saw it, barely, but it was there. A flicker of amusement behind her gaze. As if something about his retort pleased her.

She looked back down to the map. “Our target is here,” she said, pointing to the most remote of the three points: deep forest bordering one of the lesser-traveled mountain ranges.

Azriel knew it well. Dark, damp, prone to heavy fog and worse things hiding in it.

Perfect.

She tapped the ink with a clawless finger. “This was the first place I smelled his work. It’s old, but still warm. We’ll go there first.”

“And if he’s already moved?” Feyre asked.

“Then we follow the rot.” Her words were flat. Practical.

There was silence for a beat too long. Then Rhys nodded once. “We move at dawn. You all have until then to prepare.”

The meeting broke apart slowly. Chairs scraping, boots scuffing against stone. Azriel lingered at the edge, eyes still on the map. He could feel her beside him-- still, quiet, like the eye of a storm waiting to shift.

Nesta passed him as she left, but she paused only long enough to glance once back at Y/N.

Admiration. Clear and open. Azriel had seen Nesta sneer, seen her freeze people out with a look, but this was the first time he’d seen her… intrigued. Her mouth pulled into something faint. Respect, maybe.

And for some godsdamned reason, that unsettled him more than anything else.

Y/N spoke softly, without turning. “You don’t trust me.”

Azriel didn’t respond. Not right away. His shadows flickered, tense and restless.

“I don’t need you to,” she added, “but if we’re walking into something that’s already watching, I’d prefer we don’t bite at each other’s heels.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I don’t trust easily.”

“Neither do I.” She finally looked at him again. “But I’ll watch your back, Shadowsinger. You don’t have to like it, but it’s true.”

Azriel studied her, his jaw tight. Everything about her was sharp. Edged. But something about her steadiness, her refusal to flinch or flatter, scraped against the part of him that recognized survival.

Maybe not trust.

But understanding.

“I’ll see you at dawn,” he said finally, and walked away.

Behind him, he thought he heard her say, quiet as a whisper, “Try not to be late.”

Velaris didn’t seem quite as bad as she’d expected.

When Amren had mentioned it was part of the Night Court, Y/N had pictured something darker. Bleaker. A city crawling with shadows and dripping with pompous fae magic. But now, as the sun began to bleed gold into the sky and the breeze carried the scent of sea salt and distant pine, she found herself… tolerating it.

Maybe even liking it. A little.

She stood on the narrow stone balcony just outside the guest chambers they’d given her, already dressed for the road, boots laced tight, leathers snug. She hadn’t slept, not that she needed to. Her arms were folded as she leaned against the railing, fingers tapping absently with normal, unarmed nails. Below, Velaris still slumbered, lanterns casting soft glows across misted rooftops, the city slow to wake.

Above, circling sluggishly against the pale sky, her wyvern drifted in lazy, slow arcs.

“Firkhan,” she murmured.

He didn’t respond, not with words. He never had. But his shadow passed overhead, his translucent wings shimmering like heat waves, a ghost of the beast he’d once been. In this world, he was weaker—his body flickering at the edges like smoke caught in wind. The magic here resisted him. Or maybe he simply didn't belong.

None of us do, she thought.

Firkhan let out a low, rumbling screech that had no business sounding so mournful.

Y/N exhaled through her nose, eyes scanning the horizon.

It had been a long time since she’d stood still like this.

The war back in Erilea had carved her open and left iron in the cracks. She could still hear the shrieks of the Valg, the clash of blades against darkened armor, the hiss of Maeve’s shadows as they crumbled under fire. She remembered standing beside her sisters—her real sisters—when the skies rained blood. She remembered the silence after.

The silence that came when the Thirteen fell.

She hadn't asked for Asterin’s place. She hadn’t even wanted it. But Manon had given it to her anyway. Just looked her in the eye one night after the dust settled and said, “It’s yours now.”

And that had been that.

Manon never needed to explain herself. Y/N had only bowed once and borne the weight ever since. And she’d worn it like armor.

It was Amren who had broken that stillness.

A letter. Sealed in blood and old magic, slipped through the rift by means Y/N hadn’t asked about. The words had been few. No begging. No threats. Just a reminder:

"You owe me."

She did. Amren had pulled her from the mouth of a god...literally. Not during the war, but long before it, in the ruins of a temple swallowed by something old and hungry. Not out of kindness, but out of something older. Something sharp and mutual. They’d looked at each other across a pool of blood and ancient bones and understood one another without speaking a word.

They were both creatures carved from hard places, bound more by debt than affection. But it had been enough. Still was.

So when the next message came—a name she recognized, a darkness she thought she’d buried—she didn’t hesitate.

Koschei.

Of all the cursed gods and rotting immortals, he was the one that lingered. The one she hadn’t finished.

Manon hadn’t argued when she asked to go. Just stared at her for a long time before saying, “Two days. Then you return.”

Two days, Y/N repeated silently.

Firkhan screeched again, drawing her attention skyward.

And then—

A voice behind her. Rough, quiet, unmistakable:

“You’re up early.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn immediately. She didn’t need to. That voice was etched into her mind now--low and razor-edged, like something dragged over stone. Y/N slowly turned her head, casting a sideways glance to where he stood just outside the balcony doors.

Azriel.

The infamous spymaster of the Night Court. Cloaked in shadow even when he wasn’t calling on them, quiet as death, and about as warm. She’d done her research, of course. Amren hadn’t sent her in blind, Y/N had asked for details. Files. Observations. Whatever the Night Court had been willing to share, she’d devoured it.

And Azriel… was the one she’d paid the most attention to.

Not because she feared him, but because she understood him.

He moved like someone who had once been caged. Who still wore the scent of blood under his leathers, even if the rest of them had grown soft on peace and pretty skies.

She met his eyes now, unbothered. “We’re supposed to be out in twenty minutes. I assumed punctuality was something your court still valued.”

His lip twitched, maybe irritation, maybe amusement. “It is. I wasn’t expecting you to be ready before sunrise.”

She turned her head back toward the view. “I didn’t sleep.”

He stepped forward, coming to stand beside her. A brief moment of silence passed as they both watched the wyvern circling above.

“That’s… your wyvern?” Azriel asked eventually, nodding toward the faint shimmer in the sky.

“Firkhan,” she said simply.

He waited, clearly expecting more.

“He’s not meant for this world,” she added after a beat. “Too much fae magic in the air. Too much softness. It's like trying to keep a blade sharp in a pool of silk.”

Azriel’s brow ticked up at that, faint amusement flickering in his gaze. “We don’t have creatures like him in this realm.”

“I know,” she said. “Closest you’ve got are the Illyrians and the Peregryns in the Dawn Court.”

That earned her a sharper look. He leaned his forearms on the balcony railing, the shadows around him twitching slightly in what might have been surprise.

“You’ve done your research,” he said.

Y/N smiled. Tight, without humor. “Wouldn’t you, if you were walking into a court of fae strangers with enough power to burn cities?”

His silence was answer enough.

She let her gaze drift toward him for a moment longer before adding, “And besides, if I’m going to kill alongside someone, I prefer to know whether they’ll be useful or deadweight.”

Azriel’s mouth twitched again, but he said nothing.

Not yet.

A scream shattered the morning quiet.

Both their heads snapped down toward the street below, just in time to see Cassian scrambling backward behind a thoroughly unamused Nesta. The General was pointing toward the cobblestones in front of the townhouse where a very large, very real wyvern had landed, folding its shimmering wings with calculated menace. Firkhan’s golden eyes locked on Cassian like he was a meal. Or a nuisance.

Possibly both.

Y/N let out a small, rare smirk. “Looks like someone found breakfast.”

And with that, she pushed off the balcony railing and strode back inside, her steps light but unhurried. Azriel followed silently, a shadow at her heels.

They had a war to plan.

By the time they stepped outside, the others had gathered in the courtyard, surrounding the wyvern with varying degrees of wariness and awe.

“He's massive,” Mor said, eyes wide, chin tilted up as she took in the full wingspan. “Like, bigger than a Illyrian war-drake. And shinier. What do you feed him?”

“Illyrians,” Y/N replied without missing a beat.

Cassian let out a scandalized noise. “I knew it.”

“He’s joking,” Feyre added with a half-smile, though it sounded more like a question than a reassurance.

“Am I?” Y/N murmured.

Rhysand’s gaze slid over Firkhan with an assessing sharpness. “He looks like he’s holding together better than I expected, considering the dimensional rift.”

“He’s managing,” Y/N said. “Barely. It’s a miracle he survived the crossing.”

“He’s... beautiful,” Feyre offered, still watching Firkhan as if she was trying to sketch him in her head.

Nesta, standing closer now, spoke softly. “Can I pet him?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want to pet a wyvern?”

Nesta shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten anyone yet.”

From the side, Amren clicked her tongue. “He still might.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh and nodded. “Be my guest. He likes boldness.”

Nesta stepped closer, hand extended, slow but sure. Firkhan lowered his massive head, sniffing her fingers, his breath warm and metallic. For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then—he nudged her hand gently.

“He’s called Firkhan,” Y/N said, watching closely. “He’s been with me since before the final war in my world. Saved my life more times than I can count.”

Nesta’s hand moved along the wyvern’s scaled snout. “He’s… calmer than I thought.”

“He likes you,” Y/N replied, surprised at the truth in her own words. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve got steel in you. Rage. Will. Maybe even a little magic that doesn’t play by the rules of this world.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked to hers. “Magic, huh?”

Y/N gave a small smirk. “You seem like you have a little witch within you too, Nesta Archeron.”

Nesta gave a dry laugh. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing someone’s called me.”

A low, possessive sound cut through the moment.

Cassian stepped between them, gently but deliberately, inserting himself between Nesta and Firkhan...and Y/N by extension. “That’s enough fun for the morning,” he muttered, not quite glaring.

Y/N merely raised her brows. “Protective, aren’t you?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Cassian, I’m fine.”

“You say that now. Wait until he decides you look like lunch.”

Firkhan let out a chuff of breath, clearly unimpressed.

Y/N chuckled and stepped back. “He’s already chosen. You’re the one who keeps acting like prey.”

Before Cassian could reply, Rhysand clapped his hands, voice cutting through the morning fog. “Final checks. If you’re flying, make sure you’re not forgetting anything. Azriel, you’ve got maps. Cassian, try not to start another screaming match with a creature three times your size.”

“Ha ha,” Cassian muttered.

As everyone scattered to gather gear and double-check weapons, Y/N tilted her head toward Nesta. “Come,” she said, gesturing for her to walk alongside Firkhan. “I want to show him someone who isn’t terrified of their own power.”

They moved in silence for a few paces, Nesta still stroking the wyvern’s jaw, until Y/N added quietly, “There’s strength in softness too, you know.”

Nesta’s hand stilled. “You sound like Feyre.”

“I sound like someone who’s lost too many sisters,” Y/N replied. “Hold tight to the ones still breathing.”

Nesta didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

A breath later, Cassian was back, looming beside them with his hand brushing Nesta’s elbow. “We ready?” he asked.

Y/N gave him a slow nod. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

With one last look at Firkhan, she turned on her heel and strode toward Azriel, who stood waiting with a folded map in his hand and that unreadable expression in his eyes.

Let the hunt begin.

Y/N snatched the map from Azriel’s hand before he could so much as blink.

A collective pause rippled through the group at the sharp sound of paper being pulled taut. She didn’t bother looking at him. Her voice rang out, clear, cutting through the morning air like a blade.

“Now, listen up.”

The conversation and casual banter died instantly. Even Firkhan, coiled on the rooftop like a silent, glimmering sentinel, went still.

They all gathered closer around her. Illyrians, High Fae, and the strange quiet creature that was Amren. Y/N didn’t care what court they were from. What power they wielded. She only cared that they listened.

“As I said,” she continued, spreading the map across the stone garden table with a sweep of her hand, “we’re splitting into three groups of two. Each one will target a different pressure point. Koschei doesn’t leave openings. But like all things that rot, he seeps.”

She tapped her claw-not iron yet, but sharp nonetheless-against the eastern coastline of Prythian.

“Amren. Mor. You’re headed to the tidal cliffs along the Sidra’s curve. We believe one of Koschei’s old mirror-anchors lies buried there, used to siphon spirit energy from the ocean’s pull. If we’re right, breaking it will sever a part of his reach.”

Amren gave a faint smile. “I’ve always liked smashing mirrors.”

Mor only smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s just hope it’s not cursed.”

Y/N ignored them, turning to the next mark: near the border of the human lands, deep in the ruins of an old battlefield.

“Cassian. Nesta. You’re heading to the Forgotten Vale. The blood magic he’s been using, it’s rooted there. That place remembers the dead. There’s something in the soil Koschei is feeding from. You’ll need to burn it clean.”

Nesta’s chin dipped in acknowledgment. Cassian gave a grunt that could have been agreement or displeasure, likely both.

Y/N circled her finger over a third spot, one nearly forgotten in the dense wilds west of Velaris.

“And Azriel and I will be heading into the Wildmere. There's an old forest there, twisted by his influence. His shadows have grown bolder, breeding in the dark. If he’s hiding his heart, the core of his power, it’ll be there. Azriel can track what others miss. I’ll know when we’re close.”

She looked up at last, scanning their faces.

“No one is to speak of this beyond this moment. Koschei has ears in the cracks of reality. This plan doesn’t get whispered about. Not even to your mates.”

Rhysand’s mouth twitched at that. Feyre, wisely, said nothing.

“Any objections?”

There was a beat of silence. Cassian opened his mouth.

Y/N didn’t even look up. Her voice was cold and firm. “No arguments.”

Cassian blinked, about to protest. “I wasn’t even- ”

“No.”

Cassian shut his mouth. Mor snorted. Azriel might’ve smiled, but if he did, it was gone in an instant.

Y/N rolled the map closed with a snap and tucked it back into her satchel.

“Well then,” she said, straightening. “Now that that’s settled- ”

Her eyes gleamed. The wind stirred behind her, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Let’s go kill a god, shall we?”

“Have you ever killed a god before?”

Azriel’s voice broke the morning silence as they walked toward the far side of the garden. Y/N didn’t look at him. Instead, her nails tapped lightly against her thigh, a small, knowing smirk playing at her lips.

“Why? Are you scared?” she asked without turning.

He chuckled softly, a dry edge to his words. “You act like that’s something you do every day.”

She sighed, the weight of a grim past settling in her tone. “No, I haven’t. But an ally of ours did. She killed every god in our universe. She’s now a queen, and they call her the Godskiller.”

Azriel’s guarded expression shifted as curiosity sparked in his eyes. “A queen called Godskiller? That’s not a title you hear every day.”

Y/N met his gaze steadily. “She earned it.”

They reached the clearing where the rift shimmered faintly. Azriel’s eyes dropped to Firkhan, the wyvern pacing with a restless grace.

“Is this thing coming with us too?” he asked, nodding toward the great creature.

Y/N corrected him smoothly. “His name is Firkhan. And yes, he’s coming. I don’t trust your High Lord and Lady one bit. Besides, Firkhan’s senses and ability to circle high above will give us an edge. He can smell death and rot, things even your shadows might miss.”

Azriel considered her words and nodded. “Fair enough.”

Y/N softened her voice and gave a quiet command. “Firkhan, come closer.”

The wyvern’s immense form swooped down beside her, shimmering faintly--still somewhat translucent in this realm.

Azriel glanced back at the pulsing rift. “Ready?”

She nodded once. Azriel inhaled deeply, the familiar shadowy mist beginning to gather around them. With a swift motion, he winnowed them away, the world blurring and folding as shadows swallowed their forms—carrying them instantly to the other side.

The world reassembled around them in fragments of shadow and cold.

Azriel’s boots hit soft earth, damp with rot. A canopy of gnarled, twisted trees loomed above, their blackened branches clawing at the morning sky. The air here felt… wrong. Thicker. Alive, almost buzzing faintly beneath his skin.

This was Wildmere. Or what it had become.

He scanned the surrounding glade, one hand instinctively brushing the hilt of Truth-Teller. The shadows slithered closer to his heels, nervous.

Beside him, Y/N landed with feline ease, already surveying the tree line. Her iron boots didn’t make a sound on the mossy ground.

"Charming," Azriel muttered.

“Better than what I imagined,” she replied flatly, adjusting a strap across her chest that held her curved blade. “I thought it'd reek more.”

“It will,” he said, eyes narrowing on the shifting darkness between the trees. “Give it time.”

A beat of silence. A low, reverberating thrum drifted through the earth like a pulse.

“Let’s move,” Azriel said, stepping forward.

“Wait.”

He turned just enough to glance back at her.

Y/N lifted her chin toward the sky. Then she murmured a string of guttural syllables, words Azriel couldn’t place. Not ancient Fae. Not anything he’d heard before.

High above, a shadow detached from the clouds.

Firkhan.

The wyvern gave a low shriek, answering her call, before rising higher and disappearing into the canopy overhead: circling, watching.

Azriel arched a brow. “That an Ironteeth spell?”

She smirked faintly, brushing past him. “Just a language. One your kind never bothered to learn.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “What’d you tell him?”

“To hunt. To scream if anything smells like rot or fear.”

Azriel fell into step beside her. “And what do we do in the meantime?”

She glanced sideways, expression unreadable. “We walk into a haunted forest ruled by a half-dead god, of course.”

He huffed a soft laugh, surprised by it.

They moved forward, deeper into the Wildmere. And above them, Firkhan circled silently, a predator beneath the rising sun.

They walked in silence for nearly an hour.

The deeper they moved into the forest, the more the light changed. It wasn’t just the thick canopy blocking out the sun, it was the shadows themselves. They clung to bark and roots like oil. And even the wind sounded… wrong. Too soft. Too deliberate. As if the forest was listening.

Azriel had tracked monsters before. He knew the scent of darkness, of unnatural magic. But here, in Wildmere, everything reeked of rot and memory. Of something old, curdled with patience.

Beside him, Y/N didn’t speak. She moved like she belonged here, her steps precise but unhurried, hand never far from the hilt of her blade. Her wyvern, though mostly out of sight, cried out occasionally above the trees--long, distant shrieks that echoed like warnings.

He cast her a glance. “You’ve been quiet.”

Her gaze didn’t shift. “You’ve been brooding.”

Azriel let out a quiet huff. “That’s just my face.”

That earned him the ghost of a smirk. Barely.

He tilted his head. “You don’t seem bothered by this place.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she said simply, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

“Than a forest poisoned by a death god?”

“Have you ever walked through a battlefield of broken gods and still-breathing corpses?” she asked, voice low. “This is peaceful compared to that.”

Azriel didn’t respond. Mostly because he didn’t doubt her. And partly because the way she said it didn’t sound like a boast. Just fact.

Still--he couldn’t help it.

“Why did Manon send you?” he asked quietly. “Not that I’m doubting your skill. But you don’t strike me as someone who gets sent. You strike me as someone who chooses.”

She slowed, just slightly, and he almost regretted the question.

“She didn’t send me,” Y/N said after a moment. “Amren called in a debt. Manon allowed it.”

Azriel studied her profile, the way her jaw tensed when she spoke Amren’s name. “You don’t like being in anyone’s debt.”

“No,” she said. “And I repay them quickly.”

Another cry from above. Firkhan, a low snarl this time--long and deliberate.

Both of them stopped.

Azriel’s shadows rose instantly, curling around his shoulders like smoke. His siphons flared with silent readiness. Beside him, Y/N’s hand had already gone to her weapon.

“East,” she said softly. “Something’s moving.”

He listened. There--just beyond the curve of a withered tree, something shuffled through the underbrush.

Azriel didn’t draw Truth-Teller. Not yet.

Instead, he turned toward her. “You ready?”

Y/N’s eyes glittered. “You tell me, Spymaster. Have you ever killed a god before?”

Azriel allowed a slow smile. “Not yet.”

They moved together, soundless and sharp. Into the dark.

And Wildmere waited.

Azriel's senses were on high alert as they ventured deeper into the Wildmere. The air grew heavier, thick with an unnatural stillness that made every step feel deliberate. The trees, twisted and gnarled, seemed to lean in closer, their bark slick with a strange, iridescent sheen.

"Do you feel that?" Y/N's voice broke the silence, low and cautious.

Azriel nodded, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade. "Something's not right."

Without warning, the ground beneath their feet trembled. Azriel's shadows recoiled, sensing the disturbance before he could fully comprehend it. The trees around them began to shift, their trunks bending unnaturally, roots uprooting and twisting in the air like serpents.

"Stay close," Azriel ordered, his voice firm.

But Y/N was already moving, her eyes scanning the shifting landscape. "It's the forest," she said, her tone a mix of awe and wariness. "Koschei's magic is warping it."

Azriel watched as the forest seemed to breathe, the trees pulsating with an eerie rhythm. The air grew colder, and a low hum resonated from deep within the ground.

"We need to find the source," Azriel said, determination setting in.

Y/N nodded, her expression hardening. "Agreed. But we must tread carefully. This place is alive with his influence."

They moved cautiously, the forest around them shifting and changing with every step. The path ahead was unclear, obscured by the ever-changing landscape. Azriel's shadows flickered nervously, reacting to the unnatural magic permeating the air.

As they pressed forward, the trees began to close in, their branches intertwining above, blocking out the light. The air grew thick with a palpable sense of dread.

"We're close," Y/N murmured, her eyes narrowing as she scanned their surroundings.

Azriel felt it too--a presence, ancient and malevolent, watching them from the depths of the forest. He tightened his grip on his blade, ready for whatever lay ahead.

But for now, they could only move forward, deeper into the heart of Wildmere, where Koschei's magic twisted reality itself.

"The deeper we will go, the worse it will get."

Azriel didn't look at her as he led the way, shadows curling around him like arrows, ready to be sent out whenever he commands them to. "How do you know that?"

Y/N only followed him, shifting her clean nails for iron ones "It seems like you know nothing about this place, Shadowsinger, the Wildmere was not always like this. It’s not just forest--it’s memory. What you see here? Twisted bark, blackened moss, silence that’s too loud? This place remembers what it used to be. And Koschei is feeding on that pain."

Azriel’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look back, but his steps slowed slightly. "Memories don’t kill people."

"They do, when a god gives them teeth," she murmured. "You’ll see soon enough. This entire forest is a grieving thing. You walk long enough, it’ll show you what it’s lost. What you’ve lost. Then it’ll ask for a price."

Azriel didn’t respond at first. Shadows slithered along his shoulders, shifting uneasily at her words. But after a pause, he finally said, "And what did it show you?"

Y/N gave a low chuckle--hollow and without humor. "Nothing yet. But it will. The forest always finds a way in."

They walked in silence after that, the mist growing thicker around them, the trees leaning in just slightly more than they had a moment before.

Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and a low, mournful wail echoed through the forest. Azriel's shadows recoiled, sensing the disturbance before he could fully comprehend it. Y/N's hand instinctively went to her blade, her posture alert.

From the depths of the forest, a figure emerged: a massive, spectral stag, its form translucent and shimmering with an ethereal glow. Its antlers were adorned with chains of sorrowful faces, each one contorted in silent screams. The creature's eyes, hollow and endless, locked onto them.

Y/N's voice was a whisper, barely audible. "The Forest's Grief."

Azriel's gaze remained fixed on the apparition. "What is it?"

"A manifestation of the Wildmere's sorrow," she replied. "A guardian of lost souls. It feeds on despair and regret."

The stag took a step forward, and the ground beneath them seemed to pulse with each movement. The air grew colder, and the wailing intensified, as if the very forest was mourning.

"We can't kill it," Y/N said, her voice steady despite the growing dread. "We must offer it something, an acknowledgment of its pain."

Azriel's mind raced. What could they offer a creature born of sorrow? What could appease a being that thrived on despair?

The White Stag’s antlers cracked the air like thunder, pure magic slamming into the ground at their feet. Azriel flew back with the force of it, wings snapping wide to steady himself before he hit a gnarled tree trunk. The bark hissed where the Stag’s power had touched it, blackened, rotting.

Y/N stood her ground.

Not because she was unmoved.

Because she was thinking.

Its eyes burned with a light too ancient to belong to this world. Azriel’s shadows shrieked in his head, tangled around his arms and throat like they were trying to drag him away from it. From her.

“It wants something,” he growled, stepping forward, siphons flaring.

Y/N’s iron nails gleamed as she bared her teeth. “No shit.”

Another blast surged toward them. Azriel dove in front of her on instinct, shield raised from his siphons, but the magic slipped through, not touching flesh, but memories. His knees buckled.

A flash, his training pit. Then Elain, eyes wide with something unreadable. Then the Blood Rite, Rhys’s body limp in a river of red.

Gone.

Azriel gasped.

“Azriel.” Y/N grabbed his arm, grounding him. “It’s not attacking the body, it’s taking.”

He staggered upright. “Taking what?”

“Weight. Pain. Regret.” She turned toward the beast, blade now in hand, her iron claws retracted. Not her nails, her steel, that curved obsidian blade she'd claimed from the barrows of her world. “It doesn’t want blood. It wants burden.”

The Stag’s eyes flicked to her, then him. Waiting.

Azriel’s heart pounded. “So give it something.”

“I don’t- ” She hesitated. For a breath. “It’s not a trade. It’s a toll. It wants what we carry.”

Azriel clenched his fists. “I’m not offering it my damn memories.”

Y/N stepped forward, still not lifting her sword. “What if we offer it something false?”

“It’ll know.”

The White Stag stomped once. The ground split open just behind them, roots writhing like serpents. A scream tore from the soil, as if the forest itself was in pain.

“You’re right,” she hissed, glancing back. “We can’t outsmart it.”

The air changed then. Sharp. Electric. The stag charged.

Azriel lunged forward, wings snapping out. “Move!”

But Y/N didn’t run. She pivoted, blade slicing the air, not toward the creature, but downward, across her own palm.

Blood met steel.

Magic pulsed, raw and bright.

“Old gods don’t want lies,” she snarled. “They want truth.”

She threw the blood at its hooves.

The White Stag froze, the spray hitting the ground in front of it, blood soaking the roots. The earth went still.

Azriel stared.

The stag lowered its head.

And stepped aside.

Breathing hard, Y/N turned to him. “We have ten seconds. Run.”

They did.

The woods twisted behind them, the stag’s magic lashing at their heels like wind made of bones. Branches grabbed, thorns sliced, shadows pulled at them, but they made it through.

By the time they stumbled out of the cursed clearing, sweat-slicked and gasping, Azriel’s siphons were flickering low.

Y/N collapsed to one knee, gripping her still-bleeding palm.

Azriel dropped beside her, eyes scanning her face. “You alright?”

She exhaled a slow breath. “That thing fed on grief. If I had offered it any more, I wouldn’t have walked out.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter. Protective. Watchful.

“Next time,” he said, voice quiet, “warn me when a mythical forest god might try to eat my soul.”

Y/N’s laugh was hoarse. But real.

“No promises, Shadowsinger.”

Then, as if just realising what he was seeing, Azriel looked at her palm in surprise, "You have blue blood? How- how is that possible?"

Y/N glanced at her palm, still glowing faintly under the streak of cobalt. She arched a brow.

“I don’t know, Spymaster. Maybe because I’m secretly made of frost and moonlight. Or perhaps it’s just a fashion statement in my world.”

Azriel didn’t so much as blink at the sarcasm.

She sighed and flexed her fingers, watching the blood thicken, already beginning to seal. “I’m an Ironteeth witch. We all bleed blue. Has something to do with how we were made. Something ancient. Unnatural, some say.”

He looked vaguely unsettled by that. His eyes dipped again to the wound--only to find the blood already drying, the torn skin knitting back together.

“That was… fast,” he muttered. “My wounds take at least two days to heal. Even with my shadows.”

She scoffed, rising to her feet. “Maybe that’s because I’m not a Fae.”

Behind her, she heard the sound of his wings folding in as he followed, close but never too close. “You got something wrong, at last,” Azriel said, his voice lighter than before. “I’m not a Fae. I’m an Illyrian.”

That gave her pause. She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him in her periphery. “Is there a difference?”

He shrugged. “Illyrians are winged warriors. Fae in general aren’t born with wings. Or this,” he added, tapping a siphon. “We’re something... rougher. Less polished.”

Y/N kept walking but filed that away.

Why he was explaining it to her, she didn’t know. Why she cared to listen, she knew even less.

But the forest was growing darker around them. The trees closer together, their roots rising like gnarled veins through the soil. Firkhan circled above, a pale, faint shape against the thickening clouds.

She could still feel the residue of the stag’s magic trailing behind them, something old and heavy pressing against her spine like a ghost they hadn’t fully outrun.

“We’ll need to stop soon,” she muttered. “Even I can’t see what’s waiting in that dark.”

Azriel merely nodded, his shadows already fanning out ahead of them like scouts.

And still...still, Y/N found herself glancing at him again. At the siphons, the wings, the strange shadows that whispered things she couldn’t understand.

Not Fae. Not human. Not like anything she’d ever known.

Maybe she wasn’t the only weapon born in the dark.

They had found a small clearing, the air thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. The trees here were spaced just enough to allow a semblance of comfort. Y/N dropped her pack, her senses still alert, scanning the surroundings.

"Seems as good a place as any," she muttered, settling down and beginning to unpack.

Azriel nodded, his gaze lingering on the shadows between the trees. "Stay vigilant."

Just as they began to relax, the ground beneath them trembled. A low, guttural growl resonated from the depths of the forest. Before they could react, the earth split open before them, revealing a massive, serpentine creature with scales that shimmered like obsidian.

Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its maw dripped with venomous saliva. The creature hissed, its tongue flicking out, tasting the air.

Y/N stood, her expression hardening. "An Ironfang Basilisk," she said, her voice steady. "Rare, territorial, and deadly."

Azriel's wings twitched, ready for combat. "Can we fight it?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not unless you want to end up petrified. We need to outwit it."

The basilisk advanced, its massive body coiling and uncoiling with terrifying speed. Y/N's hand went to her belt, drawing her obsidian blade. "Get ready," she whispered.

Azriel's shadows flared, forming a protective barrier around them. "On your mark."

With a swift motion, Y/N hurled a handful of enchanted dust into the air, creating a blinding flash. The basilisk recoiled, momentarily disoriented. Seizing the opportunity, Azriel winnowed behind the creature, striking at its exposed flank.

The basilisk howled in pain, thrashing wildly. Y/N darted forward, her blade flashing as she targeted the creature's eyes. Another strike, and the basilisk let out a deafening screech, its body convulsing before it collapsed, lifeless.

Breathing heavily, Y/N wiped the blood from her blade. "That was too close."

Azriel nodded, his expression grim. "We can't afford to be caught off guard again."

They gathered their belongings, moving deeper into the Wildmere, aware that more dangers lurked in the shadows.

The forest pressed in around them, thick and suffocating, but the small clearing they found was enough to catch their breath--for now. Y/N didn’t dare let them linger longer than thirty minutes. The Wildmere was too dangerous, too unpredictable.

Azriel kept his senses sharp, shadows coiling around him like watchful serpents. He glanced at her as she settled against a gnarled tree root, clearly still on edge despite the brief reprieve.

“Firkhan,” she murmured.

Azriel’s head snapped upward, just as a flicker of movement slipped through the dense branches above. Then, like a ghost wreathed in moonlight, the wyvern descended--Firkhan’s translucent scales shimmering faintly in the dim light, his nearly invisible form momentarily solidifying. His golden eyes caught the glimmers of shadow and leaf, glowing softly.

Y/N leaned against him, her voice low and certain. “Firkhan says he’s sensed something… great. Something close. It’s why we’re here—the heart.”

Azriel watched the creature with quiet awe, the way it moved so effortlessly between worlds, half-seen, half-spirit. He wondered what this beast actually looks like back in his world. His gaze shifted back to Y/N, and something about the way she steadied herself in this hostile place made him respect her even more.

They sat in a tense silence for a few moments before Azriel’s curiosity overcame the quiet.

“So,” he started carefully, “how did you come to know so much about this place? This ‘heart’ we’re searching for?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with faint amusement. “Let’s just say I’ve had more than my share of dark forests and shadows. I’m sort of a spymaster too, born into war and betrayal. I come from a world where the gods are dead, and their shadows still haunt the earth.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed. “Your world... it’s different from ours.”

She nodded slowly, eyes distant as if recalling a lifetime in a single glance. “Very different. It’s a place where gods once ruled openly, but they were all killed--we have Aelin to thank for that.”

Azriel had no idea who this Aelin was but from the sound of it, she seemed to be quite the powerhouse.

Y/N then looked back at him. "Koschei has been slowly but surely infecting our world too and even though I had fought some of his creations, now I see how much more of a great threat he is in your world."

Azriel nodded his head, then, a question struck his mind. "You said Amren had saved you from a god's mouth. How and when did that happen? How do you even know Amren?"

Y/N smiled. Not a cold or cruel smile, but a real, nostalgic smile as she replied "Yes. It was a very long time ago and honestly, I would rather not speak of it. As for Amren, well, she doesn't just know me. She knows my sisters and my queen, Manon too. It's why Manon even allowed me to come here in the first place, because she trusts her and knew that if Amren calls, it's a serious issue because there is nothing Amren can't handle."

Azriel smirked slightly as his eyes drifted to Firkhan, watching the giant beast lay its enormous wing over Y/N. He hesitated, then found himself sharing a piece of his own story, the weight of his loyalty pressing on his chest. “My High Lord, Rhysand--he’s more than just a ruler to me as well. He’s fierce, loyal, relentless. We’ve fought wars, endured betrayals. He’s the reason I fight… why I keep moving forward.”

Y/N gave a small, approving nod, as if recognizing a familiar kind of pain. “Loyalty’s a rare currency in my world too. Trust is harder to earn than blood. Manon’s trust is the only thing keeping me grounded, reminding me there’s more than just survival.”

The forest around them seemed to close in, the shadows thickening as the conversation took a more personal turn. Their voices dropped lower, sharing fragments of childhoods marked by loss, hardship, and resilience.

“I grew up among shadows,” Y/N said softly, “raised to be a weapon, a spy. Not for glory, but to survive. It’s a hard life, but it teaches you to see what others miss.”

Azriel nodded, feeling the weight of those words. “I was born to serve in the shadows too. But my shadows aren’t just weapons—they’re pieces of me. I use them to protect, to hunt. Rhysand gave me purpose beyond the darkness.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “And what about your world? Prythian… it’s beautiful, but scarred. What keeps you fighting, if not loyalty?”

Azriel considered that. “Hope. For a future where the shadows don’t own us. Where people can live without fear. Rhysand believes in that future. I do too.”

Y/N smiled faintly, a rare softness crossing her features. “Hope is a dangerous thing. But maybe it’s what keeps the strongest alive.”

Azriel caught the subtle change in her expression--something almost like longing, buried beneath years of hard edges.

But then, Y/N chuckled slowly, "No wonder I knew the Night court would be the most troubled the moment I received the map from Amren."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. "And did you look into the other courts?"

"Of course I did. What kind of an idiot would go into a foreign world without researching everything from there? Personally, I would love to visit the Summer court for a much needed vacation but obviously that won't be happening so..." Y/N sighed rolling her eyes "It hurts my ego to says this but, I am slightly jealous of your world for having these nice courts. Even though I bet they are all posh and pampered."

Azriel couldn't hide his smile as he replied, "Well, if you do ever come back, just make sure to stay far from Autumn. You don't want to mess with them."

Y/N raised a challenging eyebrow. "Oh? and why is that?"

Azriel’s lips twitched into a small smirk. “They’re… complicated. The Autumn Court has its own rules and its own kind of darkness. Subtle, but dangerous. Like a web that traps the unwary.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Sounds like my kind of place.”

He studied her for a moment, intrigued by how easily she adapted, how she seemed to carry the weight of two worlds without breaking. “You make it sound like you belong everywhere and nowhere at once.”

She met his gaze steadily. “Maybe I do. Or maybe I’m just a survivor.”

They fell into a thoughtful silence, the sounds of the forest pressing in around them--shadows shifting, leaves whispering in the faint breeze.

Azriel finally broke the quiet, “So, what exactly are we looking for in this heart of Koschei’s power? What does it even look like?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Something ancient. Something that pulses with his corruption. Maybe a source of his influence. Destroying it might weaken him... or maybe even kill him. Honestly? I have never killed a god before either so this is a first for me too."

Then, she shook her head, sighing in frustration. "I should have asked Aelin for some tips, how on earth does one even kill a god?"

Azriel leaned forward, very intrigued. "Who is Aelin exactly? is she that Godskiller queen you mentioned last night?"

Y/N looked at him and just nodded, seemingly not trusting him at all to give any important information.

Fair enough. Azriel has been doing the same anyway.

The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths and fragile understanding. But Y/N was quick to break the spell.

“Enough,” she said abruptly, rising to her feet, voice firm. Firkhan, as if already knowing his job, snuggled to Y/N one last time before flying back up.

Azriel watched her for a beat longer, curiosity sparking anew. She was more than the witch he thought he’d met. Something about her unsettled and intrigued him in equal measure.

He stood, shadows coiling like eager serpents around his fingers. “Ready?”

She nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. Together, they moved deeper into the Wildmere, stepping quietly into the thickening dark.

The trees grew stranger the deeper they walked—twisting into near-impossible shapes, branches bending down like fingers to scrape at their shoulders. The air turned dense, humming like a living thing. Firkhan circled silently above, his massive form barely visible except when moonlight slipped across the translucent shimmer of his wings.

Y/N felt it before she saw it.

A shift in the world’s breath. A stillness too complete. Even the shadows underfoot recoiled, Azriel’s included.

“Something’s wrong,” she murmured.

Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter. “You feel it too?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, her steps slowed as they entered a clearing.

At first, it looked… harmless. A meadow nestled between craggy hills, dotted with faintly glowing mushrooms and blanketed in tall, silver-bladed grass. Too quiet. Too still.

Then-

A mirror rose from the ground.

Seven feet tall. No frame. No stand. Just a hovering pane of glimmering glass, and the faint shimmer of a thousand reflections dancing across its surface, not theirs. Strangers. Dead things. Nightmares.

Azriel stepped slightly in front of her. “Is that…?”

But Y/N had already stopped. Her jaw set.

“The Mirror of Maw,” she said flatly.

“You know what it is?”

“It’s not from your world. Or mine. It was pulled through a rift, I think. I’ve only seen a drawing. They say it shows your deepest fear… and then tries to break you with it.”

Azriel’s wings shifted. “Break you how?”

As if in answer, the glass rippled, and his mother’s face appeared, beaten and bloodied. Behind her, two Illyrian boys, children, chained to stone.

Azriel staggered back a step, inhaling sharply.

Y/N didn’t flinch. She knew it was coming.

Then the glass turned again, this time to her.

Not Manon. Not Asterin. Not even the Valg.

Her reflection turned into her own face—wild-eyed, monstrous, fully shifted. Alone. Blood-soaked. Surrounded by the fallen bodies of her coven. Her sisters. Manon. All dead. By her hand.

She blinked.

Azriel hissed, “We need to destroy it.”

“No,” she said immediately. “If we do, it’ll shatter outward. The shards will reflect us infinitely and... trap us.”

He turned his head sharply. “Then what?”

“We have to walk past it.”

Azriel stared. “Seriously?”

Y/N shifted her nails into long, gleaming iron claws. “Don’t look into it. Not directly. Don’t let it know you’re afraid.”

Azriel’s wings flexed, his face pale. “It already knows.”

“Then pretend.” She took a step forward.

The ground beneath them twisted, pulling them in different directions. Illusions bloomed, not just in the mirror, but in the air, hovering projections of past sins and private nightmares. The air sang with the sound of screams not their own.

Azriel clenched his jaw and followed, shadows thick around him, muttering, “What kind of god builds things like this?”

“The kind that never wanted to die,” she whispered.

They moved forward. Step by step.

Each footfall brought a new vision. Azriel gritted his teeth against a sight of his brothers drowning in tar. Y/N fought against a phantom image of Manon turning her back on her.

But then-

The mirror lashed out.

Not with glass, but with reflection. It warped into a massive beast of pure light and shadow, built from every fear it had shown them. It struck like a viper.

Y/N lunged with a snarl, dodging the strike and raking iron claws across its neck. The illusion beast didn’t bleed. It cracked like glass, shrieked like a violin.

Azriel shouted her name, his shadows tangled with the form, but they passed through.

“Don’t fight it like a warrior,” Y/N shouted. “Fight it like it’s a lie.”

Azriel paused, narrowed his eyes, then did the unthinkable.

He closed them.

And drove his knife into his own thigh.

The pain was real. Grounding.

The creature paused.

Y/N followed his lead, slicing her palm with her iron claws, letting the blue blood spill onto the grass. Her breath steadied.

“We are real,” she growled. “You’re not.”

The mirror-beast began to shake.

Then, it shattered in a silent implosion, collapsing into a pool of starlight, then into nothing at all.

Y/N and Azriel stood in the silence, panting, bleeding.

She smirked faintly. “Creative. I’ll give the bastard that.”

Azriel wiped his blade, glancing down at her hand. “Blue blood again.”

She raised a brow. “And you didn’t faint this time.”

He gave a breathless chuckle. “Progress.”

But they both knew, the forest was watching.

And the next trial was already waiting.

By the time the next challenge came, they were ready for it.

After the Mirror of Maw, neither Y/N nor Azriel had let their guard down again. Every step through Wildmere became a calculated risk. They learned quickly that brute strength wouldn’t be enough. This place demanded wit, patience, and endurance.

One moment, they found themselves navigating a river that whispered their greatest regrets in voices not their own—a siren-like hallucination that tried to lure them beneath its surface with promises of absolution. Another time, they were stalked by phantom duplicates of themselves, twisted versions that mirrored every move seconds before they made it—forcing them to fight with instinct instead of thought.

Once, they even found themselves in a grove where time reversed for everything but them—fruit rotting and unrotting on the branch, rain falling upward, Firkhan caught in a loop above them until Y/N used a sliver of her iron blade to slash the air and break the loop’s hold.

But none of it was enough to bring them closer to the heart.

They’d pushed through challenge after challenge, but the twisted forest still swallowed the path ahead in shadows. And worse—Firkhan hadn’t smelled anything yet. No pulse of dark magic, no sulfur, no blood-thick scent of Koschei.

The wyvern had descended three times, enormous wings stirring the trees like thunder. Each time, he’d only blinked those golden eyes and shook his head once before vanishing back into the sky, invisible against the dark clouds.

And now—

“I’m way past the time Manon had assigned for me.”

Y/N’s voice came low, clipped, frustration curling in every syllable as she leaned against Firkhan’s warm side. The wyvern lay curled in a hollow of moss and stone, his translucent wings tucked close to his body like an exhausted sentinel. His presence was the only steady thing left in the wild.

Azriel stood a few feet away, checking the perimeter, his shadows flicking with agitation.

“She’ll understand,” he said eventually.

Y/N scoffed. “You don’t know her.”

“No,” he said, turning slightly. “But I know what it’s like to feel like you’re failing someone who trusted you.”

That shut her up. For a breath.

Then- “We’re going in circles, Azriel. This place, this whole cursed forest, is playing with us.”

His jaw clenched. “And we keep playing back. That’s the job.”

“Is it?” She pushed off Firkhan’s side, iron nails catching the moonlight. “Because I didn’t come here to get toyed with by a dead god’s leavings. I came here to destroy something.”

“So did I,” he said, voice sharp now. “But stomping around like you’re going to slice your way through a thousand-year-old maze of magic isn’t going to get us there any faster.”

She met his stare. “What would you rather I do? Sit here and braid flowers into Firkhan’s mane while we wait for Koschei to start breathing down your High Lord’s neck?”

His wings flared slightly behind him. “I’m saying you’re not the only one who wants to end this.”

They stood like that for a moment—breathing hard, not from exertion, but from restraint.

Y/N turned away first. Ran a hand through her hair. “I just... I don’t fail. I can’t afford to.”

Azriel’s voice came softer. “You think I can?”

She looked at him then. Really looked.

His face wasn’t unreadable this time. The tension in his jaw. The shadows pulled close to his shoulders like a shield. He was just as tired. Just as haunted.

A long silence passed between them.

Then, Y/N sighed, letting her claws retract.

She leaned back against Firkhan, whose massive head nudged her gently, a low rumble of reassurance vibrating through the stone beneath them.

Azriel sat down beside her a moment later, silent.

Neither of them spoke again for a long while.

Only the forest did--breathing, pulsing, watching. Waiting.

And somewhere beyond it all… the heart still beat.

Waiting to be found.

Y/N turned her head to him. "You seem frustrated."

Azriel sighed letting out an angry growl "I have been trying to reach Rhysands mind, to talk to him, talk to anyone at this point, but it hasn't been working and I don't understand why."

Y/N looked straight ahead. "It won't work, so don't tire yourself out."

Azriel looked at her in confusion. "And why is that?"

Y/N didn't look at him at first. She simply leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as the low hum of Firkhan’s breathing rumbled behind them like distant thunder.

Then she said, voice level, “Because Wildmere was designed to be a prison. Not just for creatures or for gods, but for anything that might try to enter or leave without permission. Communication magic, winnowing, tracking, it all dies here. Gets eaten by the forest.”

Azriel stared at her. “You knew?”

She gave a small shrug, iron nails lightly tracing the ridges of her palm. “I suspected. The way the air feels… it’s thicker. Charged. Whatever magic was used to curse this place is ancient and primal. Older than either of our worlds can probably remember.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that earlier?”

Now she looked at him, her gaze flat and unapologetic. “What would you have done? Turned back? Panicked? Told Rhys to call it off?” A pause. “We’ve made it this far. Would knowing you couldn’t call home have changed how you fought through the last three trials?”

Azriel opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Because no,it wouldn’t have. Not really.

“I’ve survived in places where even thoughts aren’t safe,” she continued. “You adapt. You stop relying on help that isn’t coming. You move forward.”

A beat of silence.

“You really don’t trust anyone, do you?” he said, not accusing,just observing.

Y/N gave a soft huff that might’ve been a laugh. “Trust is expensive. I spend it rarely.”

Azriel looked away, shadows curling tighter around him as if shielding him from something unsaid.

Firkhan snorted, shifting beside them, his massive head lowering into the moss.

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” she added after a moment, more quietly. “I just didn’t see the point of wasting breath on something neither of us can change.”

Azriel finally nodded, slow and grim. “Then I won’t waste breath on it either.”

They both sat in silence again, the moment heavier now, not angry, just worn. Both aware of how alone they truly were in this cursed, forsaken place.

Finally, Y/N murmured, almost to herself, “If he really buried his heart here… then he meant for no one to ever leave with it.”

Azriel’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Then we’ll make him regret underestimating us.”

Y/N’s smirk was faint, but there. “Damn right, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel didn't know where this came from but it seemed like his mouth didn't listen to his brain as he blurted out "Do you have a mate?"

Y/N looked at him, wide-eyed, and then bursted out laughing.

Azriel was confused. "What?"

Still chuckling, Y/N looked at him once more. "We are witches. We don't have any mates."

Now it was Azriel whose eyes widened. "What- I mean...how? Doesn't everyone have a mate?"

Firkhan’s head lifted slightly, golden eyes glinting in the dark. He let out a low rumble that raised the hair on their arms.

Y/N stood, brushing moss from her trousers. “Enough talk. Time’s up.”

So she didn't like this one. Maybe this was too intimate of a matter for her. Or maybe she thought he didn't need to know this information.

Azriel didn't push, he rose beside her. “Let’s move.”

And once again, the forest swallowed them whole.

Suddenly, Y/N stopped and turned around to look at Azriel, eyes wide, as if she just realized something.

Azriel's brow lifted in suspicion. "What?"

Y/N, opened her mouth, eyes lost somewhere else as if she wasn't even talking to him.

Suddenly, Y/N stopped mid-step and spun around to face Azriel, her eyes wide, too wide. Not with fear, but realization.

Azriel’s brows furrowed, instantly alert. “What?”

But Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her gaze wasn’t even focused on him. It was distant, like she wasn’t seeing the twisted forest around them but something deeper, some hidden truth unfurling at last.

Her lips parted, and when she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “We’re being played.”

Azriel blinked. “What do you mean?”

She began pacing in a small circle, muttering mostly to herself. “We’ve been moving through challenge after challenge: endless, brutal. And they haven’t lessened. Not once. If anything, they’ve become more unpredictable. More desperate. But what if…”

Azriel stepped closer, shadows crawling silently across the ground. “Y/N.”

She looked up sharply, something wild and sharp behind her eyes. “What if the heart isn’t a place?”

Azriel stared at her. “Explain.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, gathering her thoughts, the pieces slotting together. “Koschei’s power is rooted in rot, decay, illusions. We assumed the heart was hidden deep within the Wildmere, that all this--the challenges, the madness--was just a wall we had to break through. But what if that’s the lie?”

Azriel tilted his head. “You think the heart is… everywhere?”

“No,” she said slowly, her voice gaining certainty, “I think the heart is within the challenges. Part of them. A piece hidden in every test, every horror we’ve faced. It’s like we’ve been walking through pieces of his soul.”

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, processing. “That’s why it’s been getting stronger, more chaotic. We’ve been stepping closer each time, not geographically, but… spiritually.”

“Exactly.” Y/N looked around at the ancient trees, the corrupted mist, the way the earth pulsed subtly beneath them. “This forest, it is him. It listens. It watches. We’re not searching for a location. We’re awakening it.”

Azriel let that settle for a moment. “Then what do we do next?”

She turned in a slow circle, iron nails flexing. “We speak directly to it.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “Koschei?”

Y/N smirked darkly. “Oh, he’s listening. Has been from the start. I say… we stop playing by his rules.”

Then she raised her voice, sharp and clear, her tone cutting through the forest like a blade:

“I know what you are. And I’m done dancing for you.”

Azriel’s grin was slow, dark, and full of promise. “Now that sounds like a plan.”

From the trees above, a low vibration answered--something old and furious, stirred at last.

And as if Koschei had been waiting for this realization all along, the scenery shifted, pulling Y/N and Azriel into somewhere else entirely.

The forest screamed.

Not with sound,but with movement. The trees began to shift.

Azriel had seen countless battles, had faced terrors that would break the spine of any ordinary warrior,but nothing had prepared him for this. For the way the earth itself groaned beneath their boots, how roots curled like skeletal fingers to drag them under, how the sky had turned a deep, bruised violet above their heads.

They had found the heart.

Or… it had found them.

Firkhan roared from above, his massive body circling violently in the sky, wings slicing through the thickening clouds. The wyvern’s translucent body was flickering between visible and invisible, the magic in the air distorting even him.

Azriel’s shadows lashed out, trying to scout ahead, but they shrieked back into him,blinded, confused.

Y/N stood beside him, her eyes blazing silver. Her iron claws were already out, gleaming. “It’s here,” she breathed. “He knows.”

And then-

The forest exploded.

Not with fire. Not with weapons. But with bodies. They came from the trees. Not beasts, not soldiers. Specters. Hollow things made of bark and blood, faces frozen in silent screams. They didn’t speak. They didn’t breathe. They simply lunged.

Azriel met the first with a flash of his blades, shadows curling up around his arms like a second skin. He fought silently, efficiently, but even he felt the press of chaos. Every time one was cut down, another took its place. They didn’t bleed. They didn’t die easily.

Beside him, Y/N fought like a creature out of myth. Her claws shredded through the phantoms, her movements fast, brutal. And when one got too close, she snapped with her iron teeth, tearing through bark like it was wet paper. But for each one she felled, more came.

"This is endless!" Azriel snarled, kicking a phantom back into a tree, only for it to melt into mist and reform again.

“They’re not meant to be beaten,” Y/N hissed, spinning and driving her claws into one of the specters. “They’re meant to wear us down.”

A blast of dark magic burst from a tree’s core ahead. The bark cracked and peeled back, revealing the heart. Not a heart of flesh—but a pulsing core of black and gold light. It glowed like molten metal, rhythmically beating in the trunk of a tree that stretched impossibly high.

Y/N’s eyes locked onto it. “That’s it.”

But then, the air grew cold. So cold, even Azriel’s Illyrian blood shuddered.

Koschei.

His presence slid over them like a serpent winding around a neck. He didn’t appear physically--just a voice, low and ancient, curling through the trees.

“You are too late. The forest is mine.”

Y/N staggered, clutching her temple as his voice clawed through her mind. Azriel grabbed her, pulling her behind him with one arm while shadows leapt to shield them.

“I’ve got you,” he growled.

“No,” she rasped, pushing away from him, blood now dripping from her nose. “We need to end it. Now.”

She stumbled forward,right into the path of one of the phantoms. It slammed its twisted arm across her ribs and threw her into a tree.

“Y/N!”

Azriel moved before he could think, slicing through two specters and diving toward her. She was curled at the base of the tree, blood blooming from her side, gasping through clenched teeth.

He dropped to his knees beside her, shadows wrapping around them both. “Don’t move. Don’t- ”

“It’s cracked,” she hissed. “My ribs- ”

Azriel didn’t let her finish. His hands pressed to her sides, shadows curling protectively. “Stay down. I’ll hold them off.”

“You don’t have time- ” she gasped.

But Azriel had already stood, wings flaring wide, blades glowing with shadows that roared to life.

The sky above them split, Firkhan descending like death on wings.

And still, the heart pulsed.

Still, Koschei whispered.

Still, the battle raged.

And somewhere in that madness, Azriel made a promise, not aloud, but in the marrow of his bones.

She would not fall here.

Not in his watch. Not in Koschei’s cursed forest.

Not when he had anything left to give.

Azriel’s wings unfurled fully, casting long, looming shadows over the shattered ground beneath them. Firkhan roared above, his distorted, flickering form cutting through the bruised sky like a living thunderstorm. The phantoms surged closer, an endless tide of twisted bark and blood, their silent screams a chorus of despair.

Azriel’s blades sang through the air, shadows coiling like serpents with every strike. He moved with lethal grace, a dark storm in human form, but even he knew brute force alone wouldn’t shatter this nightmare. The heart, pulsing with molten black and gold, throbbed in the center of the ancient tree, a beacon and a curse. It wasn’t just power, it was the very soul of Koschei’s corruption.

Y/N’s breaths came shallow and ragged at his side, blood darkening her iron claws and the forest floor beneath her. Azriel’s sharp gaze flickered between her and the heart, determination hardening his jaw. I have to end this. For both of us.

The specters pressed in tighter, relentless as the dark tide. Azriel’s shadows whipped out, forming a swirling barrier that absorbed phantom claws and bark-like shards, buying precious seconds. He knelt beside Y/N briefly, fingers brushing her cheek with a tenderness that belied the fury in his eyes.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, voice steady but fierce. “I’ll end this. I promise.”

She managed a weak nod, her silver eyes flashing once more with that fierce, untamed light. You always do, they seemed to say.

Azriel surged to his feet, wings beating the heavy, cursed air. He pushed forward, moving as close to the heart as he dared, the twisted bark of the tree pulsing beneath his fingertips. The core radiated an unbearable heat, not warmth, but something corrosive, devouring from within.

Koschei’s voice slithered through the trees again, low and venomous, “Foolish shadow. You think you can grasp what is eternal? What I have bound in blood and bone?”

Azriel ignored the whispers, focusing every fiber of his being on the heart. He reached deep into the shadow realm, calling to the ancient power of his bloodline, the shadows that were more than darkness, but living essence, sharp as blades and deep as night.

With a roar that shook the forest, Azriel’s blades ignited in spectral shadows, glowing with a fierce light that cut through the murk and decay. He struck the heart, first once, then twice, each blow sending waves of black and gold rippling outward.

The forest screamed in agony.

The phantoms faltered, howling in silent rage as their source was wounded. But the heart fought back, tendrils of shadow and rot lashing out, trying to bind Azriel in eternal darkness.

He faltered for a moment, pain biting deep as the corruption tried to seep into his soul. But Azriel’s resolve only sharpened, this was not just a battle of strength, but will.

Summoning every shred of shadow and steel, he drove both blades deep into the core, channeling his fury and hope. The heart shattered in a cascade of molten shards, exploding into a storm of blinding light and shadow.

The forest convulsed, roots recoiling, the corrupted mist dissipating like smoke on a wind long overdue.

Koschei’s voice broke, fractured and fading, “This isn't the end, shadowsinger...”

Azriel stood panting, wings folding back slowly, the oppressive weight lifting from the air. Around them, the twisted trees began to straighten, the pulsating heartbeat of corruption silenced at last.

Y/N groaned softly beside him, pain etched deep but the fire in her eyes undiminished.

Azriel knelt, reaching for her again, a tired but triumphant smile tugging at his lips.

“We did it,” he said quietly, voice thick with exhaustion and relief. “It’s over.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the forest breathed free.

And Azriel, shadowed and scarred but unbroken, swore he’d never let darkness claim them again.

Azriel sank to his knees beside Y/N, his breath heavy but steady despite the toll the battle had taken. The pulsating black-and-gold heart was no more, but the wounds it left behind were still fresh, both on the land and on them. Y/N’s breaths were shallow, each one a sharp stab of pain radiating from her cracked ribs and the blood staining her side.

He shifted his cloak gently, carefully trying not to jostle her too much. Shadows coiled around his hands, soft and cool, weaving delicate threads of healing energy. It was a power Azriel had kept mostly for defense, but now, with grim determination, he called upon it to mend what the heart’s corruption had broken.

“Hold still,” he murmured, voice low and firm. The shadows pressed against Y/N’s skin, knitting flesh and bone together like a masterful seamstress, sealing cracks in her ribs and staunching the bleeding. The pain didn’t vanish instantly--far from it--but it dulled, becoming a dull ache beneath the magic’s careful touch.

Y/N’s silver eyes flickered open, meeting his with a spark of gratitude mingled with exhaustion. “You… you always come through,” she rasped.

Azriel gave a tired, crooked smile. “I’m not done yet. You’re too important to lose.”

He eased her into his arms, careful and protective, letting his wings envelop them both like a shadowed sanctuary. The forest around them was already beginning to heal, corrupted leaves wilting and new green buds pushing through the undergrowth, nature reclaiming what had been twisted.

“We need to get out of here,” Azriel said quietly. “Stay with me. I’ll carry you.”

Y/N nodded, eyes fluttering closed as the healing shadows continued their work, easing the sharpness in her chest.

Azriel rose, wings spreading wide to shield them from any lingering threats. His steps were steady but swift, moving through the forest with the grace of a predator, the shadows parting before him like a living cloak.

Every heartbeat was a reminder--this victory was hard-won, but survival meant moving forward. And he would carry Y/N through whatever came next.

As the forest’s twisted grip loosened behind them, Azriel’s resolve hardened. He wouldn’t just survive--he’d make sure the darkness they’d faced never rose again.

Once they were out, Azriel winnowed them back. The familiar air of the House of Wind wrapping around him like a balm after the suffocating, corrupted forest. He carried Y/N carefully in his arms, her weight lighter than he expected, though the bloodstains on her side told a harsher truth. The others were gathered in the main hall, the tension in the room thick—like the air before a storm.

Mor and Amren stood near the tall windows, exchanging hurried words. Nesta and Cassian leaned against the hearth, faces drawn and exhausted. Rhys and Feyre were by the stairs, eyes sharp, concern etched deep.

The moment they entered, voices rose in a chorus.

“You took so long,” Cassian’s voice was rough but relieved.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to him. “How long?”

Cassian’s grim smile faltered. “Five entire days.”

Feyre stood up from the couch, coming closer to Azriel. "We've all been trying to reach you but we couldn't get an answer."

Azriel sighed, "It was the damn forest, the air in the, it's magic, I couldn't reach any of you either because of that."

A murmur rippled through the room. Y/N stirred slightly, getting down but still leaning against Azriel for support. He stiffened but didn’t pull away.

Rhys narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. “You’re injured. Are you alright?”

Y/N’s silver eyes flickered open. “I’m fine,” she said, voice steady but faint.

She looked at Amren and asked, “When can you open the portal again? I need to go back home.”

The room quieted at her words.

Azriel’s mouth opened, then blurted out before he could stop himself: “Do you really?”

Everyone turned, surprised by his tone.

He cleared his throat, voice rough. “I mean, you are injured after all.”

Y/N gave a small, wry smile. “Manon will be both worried and pissed. She already is. I’m way past the assigned time. I bet they all think I’m dead by now.”

Amren’s eyes glinted. “Give me a few hours.”

Y/N nodded, easing down onto the couch Feyre offered. Azriel never left her side, standing like a silent guardian.

Tea was brought, warm and fragrant, a sharp contrast to the cold metal taste of battle still lingering in his mouth.

The group settled, the fire crackling softly as they began to recount what had transpired in their separate quests. Mor and Amren spoke of the tidal cliffs, how the mirror-anchor shimmered beneath the waves, how the ocean roared with a power Koschei had tried to steal. Nesta and Cassian told of the Forgotten Vale’s haunted soil, the blood magic that bled from the earth itself, and how fire had cleansed the curse—though at a heavy cost.

Azriel’s mind wandered, watching Y/N carefully as she sipped her tea, the faintest flicker of pain crossing her face when she moved too sharply. He remembered the forest’s pulse, the way the heart had throbbed like a living wound beneath the bark, and the relentless onslaught of phantoms that had threatened to tear them apart. He thought of the shadows he’d summoned, not just to fight but to heal, to hold her together when the world had tried to unravel her.

In the quiet moments between their words, Azriel’s thoughts circled around a single, stubborn truth: they had survived, but the cost was far from over. The forest’s corruption was gone, but Koschei’s reach remained—fractured, yes, but dangerous.

"So, I guess my debt to Amren is paid at last."

And Y/N was leaving.

Azriel shouldn't care, after all, she did come here for the mission in the first place. But.... the moments they shared, the conversations they had....Azriel couldn't ignore that. His interest, his curiosity kept rising when he looked at her. She was everything and more that they said about her, yes. But she was also so different. He still had so many questions, so many conversations that he wanted to have with her.

Amren returned then, sharp-eyed and satisfied. “Alright, it’s ready.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose. Relief, maybe. Or weariness. Or regret.

They all followed her into the garden behind the House, bathed in the violet hue of the setting sun. The Sidra shimmered below, and the distant wind caught in the high pines.

Firkhan was waiting, perched like a statue of obsidian and smoke on the cliff edge. The wyvern’s translucent wings had returned to full visibility, glittering faintly in the fading light. He huffed once as Y/N approached, nuzzling her side gently--carefully--where she was still bruised. She placed a hand against his snout, murmuring something in her own language. Something old and sacred.

Y/N exhaled through her nose. Relief, maybe. Or weariness. Or regret.

Cassian, arms crossed but expression oddly soft, offered a nod. “You ever want to visit again, I’ll save you a sparring spot.”

Y/N smirked, the silver in her eyes brightening. “Only if you promise not to cry when I flatten you.”

Nesta arched a brow. “She’s serious.”

“I believe her,” Cassian muttered, half to himself.

Feyre stepped forward next. “Thank you, for what you did. What you gave. It wasn’t your war, but you fought like it was.”

Y/N inclined her head. “It became my war the moment I stepped into that forest.”

Rhys gave a small, approving smile. “And you walked out of it.”

“Barely,” Azriel murmured under his breath, but she heard it.

Amren was last. She held out a small, shining obsidian coin- an anchor token, Azriel recognized. Rare, dangerous, used for long-distance magical travel when gates were unstable.

“Send my regards to Manon,” Amren said. “Tell her I haven’t forgotten that bottle of blackfire she owes me.”

Y/N’s grin returned, sharp and wild. “She’ll pretend she has. But I’ll make sure she doesn’t.”

Amren gave a snort and turned, already bored with sentiment.

Y/N ran her hand along Firkhan’s scales once more, then turned to Azriel. The others, sensing something in the air, quietly stepped back. Shadows deepened in the corners of the garden.

He hadn’t moved.

“You’ll be alright?” he asked, voice low.

“I’ve survived worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

A pause. Her silver gaze met his. “I’ll be alright,” she said again, gentler this time.

Azriel nodded, but his jaw was clenched. There were still a thousand questions clawing in his throat. Not about war. Not about magic. About her.

She studied him for a long moment. “You could visit, you know.”

He blinked. “I- what?”

Y/N shrugged one shoulder, casual and not at all casual. “We’ve got plenty of cursed forests too. Would make you feel right at home.”

His mouth lifted in the barest smile. “And a brooding spymaster with too many shadows won’t draw attention?”

“I think we’d survive the scandal.”

Another silence, but not uncomfortable.

Then she looked to the sky. “Firkhan’s ready. And… they’ve waited long enough.”

Azriel’s hand twitched at his side. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t stop her.

But gods, he wanted to.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, one last time.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder.

His shadows curled around his boots, uncertain.

“I meant what I said. Back in the forest. I wasn’t going to let you fall.”

Something flickered in her gaze. “I know.”

And then she stepped away. Climbed onto Firkhan’s back with the ease of a queen mounting a throne. No crown. No farewell.

Just fire in her blood and steel in her spine.

Firkhan launched into the air with a blast of wind and light, his wings cutting through the violet dusk as they entered the portal and vanished completely.

Azriel watched until they were gone.

Until the stars blinked open, silent and still.

And still he stood there.

Because the thing he wouldn’t say--the truth clawing quietly beneath his skin--was that he hadn’t expected to care.

Not for the shadows she had walked through.

Not for the strength behind her teeth.

Not for the ghost of her laughter when no one was listening.

But he did.

And now she was gone.

She came into my world like a storm with no warning. And left just as fast. But storms leave marks behind. And something tells me… this isn’t the end of our story. Not yet.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 1: Falling through the stars /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: When the four forces of nature are used at the same time in different places, their power resonates through the universe, connecting all of them together

Word Count: 3,1K

Warnings: Mentions of war, injuries and blood.

Notes: Welcome to the first official chapter of this weird crossover that came up in my mind, obviously this contains spoilers of both acotar and throne of glass, maybe a little crescent city spoilers but who cares? hehheheh

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Too much blood, so much that the metallic scent was making Nesta’s head spin. She watched the eerily silent baby in Morrigan’s arms, Rhysand’s pale face as he grasped his mate’s body. The silent plea in those violet eyes for someone to do something, anything to bring them back to him. 

All the wasted chances of apologising for years of abandonment, for letting her fourteen year old sister wander scared and alone in those cold woods, for letting her be taken to this world the first time, for allowing her back and for all the resentment Nesta felt towards herself crossed her mind. She never told Feyre how proud she was for everything she had become. A warrior, a High Lady, a mother. 

With a last glance towards the nephew she wanted to hold, the one she wanted to tell stories, the one she wanted to see grow and become a great leader just like his parents. The baby who had so much to live for, the baby who just needed a chance of a better life. 

It was for them and for them only that Nesta invoked that ancient power, prickling against her fingertips as she held the harp, the other two troves cold against her face and heavy against her head. And it was for them that she used them, no fear consuming her body, just the wish of saving her sister. And with that, Nesta stopped the time. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

The universe felt as that wave of power crashed against the horn, and the other three troves sang in answer to that powerful call. A profane melody resonating throughout the stars, enveloping different worlds with its song. The females didn’t know what they had done, two strangers using the four items in unison, their power echoing, ripping the folds of space and time open.  

The gaps started to form, growing in places long forgotten, lands no one has ever heard about, all of them connected by the troves. Alluring and calling like a siren song, the most curious beings crossed it, falling in between the worlds, just small glimpses of the vastitude of the universe they never dared to study about. 

And it was through one of these gaps, staining the night sky of the Witch Kingdom in a bright light, that Y/N Blackbeak and Meraxes, her black wyvern fell. The winds roared, like an agonising screech trying to stop her, like they knew something she didn’t. Like they knew she would never return home. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

When she woke up that morning, rubbing her eyes and jumping out of the bed to start her day, she had no idea what was about to happen. After the war and all the centuries of damage in their home, the witches, both Ironteeth and Crochans working together, had a lot to do.

Everyday she would force her body out of the bed, keep going on autopilot ever since everything she loved was ripped away from her. She tried hard to keep going, like Asterin would’ve wanted her to, be there for Manon, like Asterin would. But Asterin wasn’t there anymore, she would never return with that grin of hers, never see the progress they made and the union of her people. Asterin was gone and she was left behind to try to mend her broken heart. 

She blinked the tears away, resting her forehead against the cold tiles of her bathroom, the hot water making the skin of her back turn red. The burning sensation grounding her when the memories flooded her mind like a river. The sadness in her heart was an unwanted guest.

 Asterin flew by her, a smirk on her face as her yellow eyes landed on her younger sister, Y/N atop Meraxes felt, deep within the heart that she didn’t even know she had. She looked in horror as the Thirteen aimed for the witch tower, their wyverns clearing the way for Asterin, she jumped from Narene, landing in the middle of the tower. 

Y/N couldn’t see, but she tried to reach for her sister, reach for the only person that ever loved her, reach for that sisterly bond that lied within her soul ever since Asterin chose to keep Y/N under her wing, to train her and teach her what her duty was. Asterin, who despite everything they have been taught, chose to love Y/N like she was family. 

Meraxes was tired, tired of fighting and flying, but she forced him to go to the Tower, to save Asterin. But she was too slow and too late, the light coming from the tower wasn’t dark, it was the purest shade of white, so bright that her vision got blurry, the impact sending her and the wyvern flying backwards, with such force that they hit the ground with a loud thud. Where the tower and the Thirteen once were, nothing stood. 

Y/N wiped the blue blood that streamed above her eyes, a loud roar forming in the back of her throat, rumbling through her bones, she threw her head up, her lips parting as she roared to the skies, Meraxes roaring with her. Crying it was a weakness,  witches didn’t cry, but Y/N braced herself, ignoring her arm bending in a wrong angle, the pain in her sliced face, thanks to a Yellowlegs that jumped on her and tried to slash her face open. 

And she cried, cried and cried on that battlefield, cried as she got back on her feet, cried as she ripped a part of her riding leathers, wrapping her broken arm tightly against her body, branding her sword and marching towards the battle again. She would be strong, Asterin wouldn’t want her to give up. She would fight to protect what Asterin believed. She would fight for a better world, and die for it if she had to. 

She fought until exhaustion, her body collapsing on the dirty ground. Claws caged her, lifting her from the ground, she gritted her teeth as pure agony flashed from her arm, her face was completely numb at this point and she fought to keep her eyes open. She blacked out when Meraxes reached the walls that kept Orynth intact, his claws letting her go, her body hitting the floor and rolling to the side.

Hafiza found her, ordering that other healers carry her bruised body inside. But her wounds were deeper than the ones marking her skin.

She allowed her tears to fall, mixing with the water, where no one could see her. An hour later she was wearing her riding gear, the red cloak hanging from her neck, part of the official uniform they had to use, to symbolise the union. 

The witches watched her as she walked towards the Queen’s council room, as her wingleader and responsible for the remaining wyverns, she was always present in the morning meetings. As everything the Valg made was destroyed after Erawan died, they wondered how the wyverns belonging to the witches that decided to fight for Aelin Galathynius still remained, concluding that they were tied to this land by the bonds shared between them and their riders, not by the Valgs anymore. 

“Good Morning.” Manon Blackbeak greeted, her commanders just nodded their heads in greetens to their queen. “How are the wyverns in the Ferian Gap?” The heads of the witches present turned to her, she held her head high at the sight of the eyes lingering in her scar. 

“They’re being trained, I shall fly there today to see their progress, but I'm sure that soon they will be big enough to bond witches.” The queen nodded, her red lips smiling warmly at her, Manon was trying hard to be the best version of herself, the one her Thirteen believed she was before they sacrificed themselves for her. 

“I’ll go with you. I want to see them too.” And Y/N wondered if that sudden interest of going too wasn’t because it was weeks since she saw a certain handsome King in Adarlan. 

“Yes, my queen.” She dipped her chin in a silent bow of her head. Turning her mind off as the meeting kept going. Playing with her claws, scraping slowly the surface of the table, watching as faint lines marked into the wood. The morning meetings were boring as fuck. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

“Good boy.” She scratched the wyvern’s chin, the animal shaking its tail like he was just a very big dog. No wonder Meraxes and Abraxos were really good friends, they were two gigantic puppies, with mortal claws and teeth, just like her. 

“You want to place a bet that these two will wait for us in a flower field?” Manon asked, the two females walked towards the entry of Ferian a few hours later. Y/N laughed, the skin of her scar pulling a bit as she did so.

“It’s not even something debatable anymore, those flowers sniffling addicts.” Manon smiled.

“You remind me of her.” The white haired witch blurted and Y/N came to a stop. 

“We do not even look alike.” She tried to joke, with shoulder length light brown hair, dark blue eyes and the slightly more tanned skin, she couldn’t be any more different from Asterin, but she knew what Manon meant and she didn’t wanted to think about it, even if the witch just felt the need to speak it outloud. 

“You could be twins.” She joked, but her expression turned to a serious one very quickly. “You have the heart just as good as hers was, and that’s where you two are equals to me.” She didn’t answer, the tears too heavy to carry. Manon didn’t demand a response when Y/N stopped, leaving the younger witch alone for a bit. 

The Ferian Gap was as it usually was, damp and smelling like wyvern shit. The animals roared and flew around in the pit. Witches trained them and fed them. Not a single one chained, all of them free to go but they chose to stay. The younglings were still learning how to fly while the elders tried to teach them how, it was honestly really cute. She was leaning against a wall, Manon’s words still replaying themselves in her head, when a different scent filled her nostrils. 

“Aelin’s delivery boy, what a pleasure to see you again.” She spoke, not even turning back to know that Fenrys Moonbeam was walking behind her, he let out a low chuckle. 

“And here I was thinking I was an ambassador.” He stopped by her side. Eying the witch up and down, recognizing the grief lacing her features. 

“Just a fancy name, I like to call it what it really is, delivery boy.” She snickered and Fenrys rolled his eyes. 

“I hate you.” He nudged her with his elbow, his braid moving behind his back as he did it. 

“Yeah yeah, mean witch and shit, I know that.” The male chuckled and she turned face to face with him. “What do you need?” After the war, she and Fenrys had grown really close, working together as Ambassadors for both of their queens. Wingleader her ass, Manon used her to gather resources and talk to important people. 

“Actually, Aelin sent me here cuz she apparently has a very important meeting with the ladies of her court.” She knew what this meant, it was Aelin’s way to gather her friends and make sure they were alive. 

“Am I invited this time?” She joked. 

“Unfortunately no, but can I invite you for some beers?” He was the closest friend she had now.

“I would love to. Are you free to have one in the Witch Kingdom?” The male nodded.

“Just need to do my job real quick.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Fenrys held her waist, she could feel his shaking body against her back, caging her between him and the saddle. She smirked as she turned slightly to him.

“Can’t I go by foot?” He asked and she giggled.

“Too far away. You’re stuck with us, Meraxes will behave.” She promised and Fenrys nodded. She could feel his tense body during the three hour flight, the male squeezed his eyes shut, if that’s what Rowan had to deal with in his animal form, he was glad to be stuck as a wolf. Being that far away from the ground was a big no for him.

The wyvern landed, and Fenrys more than happily slid down his leg, grounding himself and thanking the Gods he was still alive. 

“Are you alright?” She sounded genuinely concerned, but when he turned to her, he saw that smirk. “A certain Lord of Perranth would love to know about this.” Fenrys pretended to be hurt.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He started to follow her towards the tavern.

“Someone has to help that poor dude, with you and your queen constantly mocking him.” Fenrys held the door open for her, following her to a more secluded table. 

“He deserves it.” He defended himself. “The usual?” The witch nodded, and he went to the counter ordering their drinks. 

“How are you?” She asked, and Fenrys watched as a trickle of blood ran down her chin. 

“I’m better, really.” He sighed. “How are you?”

“I’ve seen better days.” She joked, downing the goblet of blood in one go. “But I will be fine.” And for her sake, Fenrys hoped that she was right.

“I don’t know how you do that.” He changed the subject and the witch raised an eyebrow, the scar going up too with the move. “The blood, I mean.” He scrunched his nose. 

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” She raised the goblet in his direction but he knew she was asking for another round. 

The two sat there, for hours, talking. The sky was pitch black and the stars shone bright in the sky. He was telling a story about some drunk fae wanting to pet him when a witch burst through the door. Her cheeks were red and her cloak followed her like a river of blood. 

“Bronwen needs you and your alliance to check something up, it’s important.” She stated, when Manon was away, it was her cousin that took care of things for her alongside Petrah Blueblood. Y/N turned to Fenrys, opening her mouth to apologise.

“Go do your duty, delivery girl.” He joked and she flipped him off, following the witch outside and whistling loudly to call Meraxes. 

She was in the air before the witch had the chance to get on top of her broom. Flying towards the castle, where her alliance waited for her. She slid down, her feet hitting the ground with a loud thud. She glanced at Shearah, her second in command.

“What’s wrong?” She demanded, the witch locked eyes with her.

“The witches saw a gap to the west, they don’t know what it is, but we can hear its call.” Y/N focused her hearing, like a faint whisper being carried by the wind, she could hear, calling, lulling, inviting them to see what was waiting for them on the other side. 

“Let’s go.” She adjusted her sword behind her back, hidden by the cloak, and the dagger resting against her thigh. Mounting Meraxes again, she was running towards the gap, following the melody.

 ⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

The gap wasn’t that big, just a few inches, a slit like a snake eye looking at her, daylight peeked through it, interrupting the darkness in the sky. She had never seen something like this before. A chill ran down her spine. 

“Stay behind!” She warned, the alliance forming a wall behind her. 

She got closer, the thing looked like it was getting smaller by the second, she clicked her jaw, iron teeth covering her real ones, and her claws emerged from the tips of her fingers. Ready to attack in case something dared to cross. Just a closer look

The wind stopped its song, she couldn’t hear it anymore. The terrified faces of her alliance were the last thing she saw before she was sucked into the gap, watching with horror the night sky fading as it closed. She felt like she was falling, clutching the reins in the saddle with an iron grip. Her voice lost in the folds of space as she screamed. Falling, falling and falling. 

Until everything stopped, and she was dangling upside down, the parts of the saddle that held her in place caging her in, forcing against her skin, bruising the flash. Meraxes had fallen to the side, and she groaned as her head started to pound. She was struggling to get out of the saddle, but as she did, her body hit the floor. Pain started to appear from the point she had fallen on top of a rock and she huffed in annoyance.

She circled Meraxes, slapping its leathery nose, the wyvern was still breathing and she released the air she was holding, he opened its eyes, golden eyes meeting hers and she was never more thankful to see those big eyes curiously scanning her. 

The wyvern slowly got up, pulling her closer with a wing. She looked around, removing the pellicule that covered her eyes as she flew, a city was standing nearby, mountains surrounding it, the sight was quite beautiful but all she could wonder was. Where the FUCK she was? 

Things got even more confused when she heard the sound of steps against the fluff grass. Meraxes growled at the strangers approaching her. Stones shone in the two of them, one red and one blue. 

“What the fuck?” The male with the red stones yelled, his sword looking like a foolish attempt to protect himself from the really long teeth and sharp claws of the beast in front of him. She reached for her sword, armed and ready to attack. She was about to jump on them when they got closer and she could see their faces now.

The air was knocked out of her lungs and she wondered if she had gone insane, the achingly familiar face looked at her, the male was tall, beautiful big wings spread across his back, his hazel eyes studied her, trying to distinguish where to attack the threat. She felt like she knew him, her heart exclaiming that yes, she did know him, but her brain didn’t remember him, it wasn’t ready to remember him just yet. She shook her head and fixed her instance, the two stopped at the sight of her teeth glowing in the sun, ready to rip their skin apart.

“Where am I?” The female snarled and the beast behind her furiously stared at them, ready to rip them to shreds.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16

@just-here-reading @celestialend @donttellthecats @scatteredstardustt @snoopyspace

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Sorry this one is a little late and a little sparse! I was reading some other books and got very distracted!

Please make sure to check all warnings before reading. But if you do enjoy a story, maybe leave a comment and reblog to support your local neighbourhood fic writiers.

Reading Lists

Bucky Barnes

A Little Help Here by @stargazingfangirl18 🔥

Big Conversation by @buckets-and-trees

Donut: The Hole Story by @jobean12-blog

Headache by @rocketrhap3000

Red Agony by @lokiswifeduh

Shoot Me by @antiquarianfics

Dorian Havillard

Breathless by @throneofsapphics 🔥

Eris Vanserra

Gust and Flame by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Fenrys Moonbeam

Fenrys Smut Ask by @anyoneseenadam 🔥

Loki

Caught You by @jiyascepter 🔥

Poly Fics

Afternoon Delight by @christowhore 🔥(Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson x Reader)

Pretend by @throneofsapphics 🔥(Asterin x Manon x Reader)

Rowan Whitethorn

Keep Still by @throneofsapphics 🔥

Stucky

Trolling Steve Rogers by @late-to-the-party-81

Tangerine

Black Ribbon by @little-miss-dilf-lover 🔥

Look After You by @oh-starstarstar

Long Story Short by @pretty-little-mind33

Style by @pretty-little-mind33 🔥

[danikamariewrites]

Could we get some Manon x a very sick reader 🥱

Just The Sniffles

Manon x reader

A/n: I live for soft Manon

Warnings: none

You had woken up alone this morning. As you sat up and the covers fell off you, you started shivering so hard your teeth chattered. Then you feel that odd change in the back of your throat. That achey feeling that comes with being sick. You start coughing so hard your eyes water and your nose starts to run.

Giving up on getting out of bed you lay back. You decided to stay in bed today. You just had to send a messenge to Manon before you fell asleep again.

Manon walked with Asterin to the grand dining room for lunch. As they take their seats Manon keeps talking about new flight exercises and what courtiers would be at the ball in Adarlan. On instinct, Manon reaches for your hand.

She’s confused as to why you’re not there. You two always have lunch together. Manon looks to her cousin, “Where is she?”

"Y/n is sick. I went to check on her this morning and she told me she was just going to stay in bed." Manon practically snarled from anger. She hated being left out of the loop, especially when it came to you.

Manon suddenly stood making Asterin jump. As she made her way to you bedroom Manon picked up her pace practically sprinting and almsot breaking down the door.

She stopped short as her eyes landed on you. You were sitting up against the headboard surrounded by pillows. A mug of soup cupped between your hands resting on your chest. You stared back at Manon with a small smile.

"Hi babe. What's wrong?" Her jaw dropped. She couldn't believe you were so casual right now. "You're sick. And you didn't tell me." Manon's worried face was so cute you were trying so hard not to giggle. She quickly walks over to your side of the bed standing next to you.

With the back of her hand she starts feeling your forehead and cheeks. “You feel warm. What are your symptoms.” You pull her hand away from you while still balancing your soup. “Manon, I’m fine. It’s just the sniffles. I’ll be perfect tomorrow.”

The witch queen rolls her eyes at you. “But for now it’s today and you will let me take care of you.” You roll your eyes back at her sighing out, “Fine.” Your tone playful and sarcastic. Manon gives you a look that says don’t push her and you give her a toothy grin back.

“Can I have more soup please?” She takes the monstrous mug from you. “Of course, anything else for the patient?” You tap your fingers on your stomach, biting your lower lip in thought. “Will you stay in bed with me?” Manon leans down to peck your forehead. “Of course. I wouldn’t leave when you’re sick, love.”

When Manon comes back she’s balancing a tray full of things. Your new serving of soup is accompanied by tea, water, bread, a stack of cloths, and a pastry in case you wanted something sweet. Manon takes the cloths into the bathroom, soaking one with cold water and resting it on your forehead.

You knew you weren’t sick enough for Manon to be doing all of this but you weren’t going to stop her. It was sweet and rare that she took care of anyone like this. Besides, you liked the attention from your girlfriend.

[shadowdaddies]

Ok hi I love you

It’s getting cold where I am and I’m FREEZING and suddenly I got this idea.

Since you’re so good at writing Manon x reader x asterin, I need a fic where they were on a mission with the thirteen and got back to the castle very late and saw their poor gf sleeping on the couch and shivering because she didn’t cover herself since she was waiting for them 🙁 so they take care of her and get in bed with her to keep her warm and comfy (who doesn’t love some fluff!! But also I feel Manon and Asterin can be over protective because it’s their nature 😔 they’d def lecture her about staying up late)

hi I love YOU💜 I want to snuggle with Manon and Asterin omg 🥺 ty for the request

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Manon x Reader x Asterin fluff

You had barely been able to eat dinner, too anxious thinking about when Manon and Asterin would return. They knew how to handle themselves on a mission - you had seen firsthand what they were capable of in battle - but your heart ached, still concerned for their safety and eager to have both of them back with you. 

You grabbed a blanket from the couch downstairs, wrapping it around you as you drudged up to your bedroom. For a moment, you simply stood in the space - how empty it felt without them here. No. You couldn’t think like that - you needed a distraction. Padding into the bathroom, you found Manon’s bath salts in the cupboard and poured them in with the bath water as you filled the tub. Discarding your clothes carelessly on the floor, you tied your hair up and settled into the warm water. 

Manon’s scent filled your senses, allowing you to relax in the water for some time until your fingers turned pruny and the water cold. Sighing, you clambered out of the tub, wrapping yourself in a towel as you ventured back out into the bedroom. Moonlight streamed through the window, and panic coursed through you as you realized how late it was - and they still weren’t back. Distraction. You needed a distraction.

Grabbing a pair of leggings and one of Asterin’s sweaters, you spotted one of your books in the lounge area. Perfect. Sitting on the love seat, you reclined against a pillow as you tried to read your book by the dying embers of the fireplace. 

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until a gentle hand rubbed your shoulder, waking you to see Asterin crouched by your head as Manon stood above you, arms crossed as she assessed your state. Voice raw from sleep, you rasped out, “you guys are back,” with a soft smile. Manon scoffed. “Thank gods we are, too. What were you thinking going to sleep without any covers or a fire?” 

You looked over to the fireplace to see the flames must have gone out while you were sleeping. Guilt swept through you seeing her concern, but Asterin rolled her eyes, giving Manon a pointed look before turning back to you. “Don’t mind her, she’s still on edge. We were just worried - you were shaking a lot in your sleep, sweetheart.” Your heart melted at her words, and you lunged into Asterin’s arms. The feeling of her holding you made you feel complete... almost. You reached out, grabbing Manon’s hand as you yanked her down with you, the three of you in a warm embrace. 

Your eyes lined with tears at the sheer relief of having them back, and you looked to Manon to apologize for not taking care of yourself while they were gone. As if she knew what you were about to say, the queen simply shook her head with a smile before tilting yours to press a kiss on your hair. “We’ve missed you, angel. Let’s go to bed.” 

With that, Manon picked you up and carried you to your bed, where you fell asleep in the warmth and comfort of her and Asterin, deep contentment settling your bones as you slept peacefully.

[paasrin]

NO ROLE MODELZ | Azriels x FEM!reader

Summary: Y/N is from the Court of Nightmares and the bond snapped for her and Azriel, but she doesn't want to leave.

Warning: Angst

There was only one thing you loved more than the stars, and that was your little sister, Asterin was five at that time, and you had grow her up, your parents never at home.

Your father, Alexei, was a Lord of the Court, so obviously you had been in the reunions the High Lord and Lady had offered all times, but you scaped at the moment you saw the opportunity.

And that was what you were gonna do the second you saw it, but while searching a way to scape you saw two beautiful hazel eyes that cached your attention. And it was at this moment that you knew something would change forever, something snapped.

The bond had snapped to both of you. A warm thread was in your chest, you could see it glow when you saw that eyes again, but you felt terrified when you realized what was about to happen.

Males in the Court of Nightmares where such dicks them all, all wanting the females to left their family to stay in their house and provide children to them, like if they were only good for that, and you hated it, cause you knew that the male would take you from your family and Asterin would be alone with your parents, the worst part was that she would have to be left with what your parents give her.

You have received hundreds of beatings from your father, most of them when your sister was born, like you had to take care of her at the exact moment she was born, and you did, but everything she did wrong was a strong beating to you later, and you had received all of them, not wanting your father to take retaliation on your little sister. She was only five for Cauldrons sake!

But when the male was Infront of you it was even worse than you thought. It wasn't just a fucking male, it was the fucking spymaster of the Night Court, the fucking shadowsinger, the damn Azriel.

Your father had hated him even more that the High Lord, he was the reason his mate was gone, in his eyes was like that, the reality was that she had tried to murder the High Lord and his cousin, Morrigan, and almost got the job done, but it didn't count to Alexeis eyes.

If he discovered it you would be in such a problem, you started hating this even more. You had wished for a mate before Asterins birth, but know you couldn't let her alone at her fortune.

"Don't, please don't, I can't do this" you plead, almost like a whisper.

[throneofsapphics]

Manon x reader x Asterin (angst) please 🤸‍♀️

think for yourself.

(part two)

Manon x Reader x Asterin 

Summary: “I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.”

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: angst, slight injury, blood 

A/N: angst is my favorite thing to write. I'm so sorry. also not proofread very well

It was late at night, in the small cabin you lived in, a few miles from the nearest village, perfectly secluded. The safest way for you to live. When you made trips into town, they welcomed you with open arms - mostly because of the herbs and goods you would barter or sell, but you did have a few friends there. Nobody there knows exactly where you live, nor did you invite anyone over, and you always took different routes home, shaking any who tried to follow. Even if that meant you would double the amount of time it took you to get back. Paranoia is good. It’s kept you alive. However, any common sense seemed to fall away for two witches. Who’d thankfully captured your heart instead of tearing it out. 

-

I haven’t seen your kind for some time.” A smooth and cold voice purred from behind you. Rarely could anyone sneak up on you, not with the senses from your Fae heritage. You slowly turned to face them. To of them. Witches. One with white-blonde hair and a predatory look in her eyes stalked towards you, the other fell into step a pace behind her, matching each other in pace and stride. Instead of the urge to flee, a small voice told you to stay. So you did, with that immortal stillness. Fleeing would give them a chase, something they undoubtedly would enjoy. 

You didn’t flinch as iron nails snapped out, or as one dug under your chin, tilting your face upwards. You met the burnt-gold eyes with a defiant gaze. “I don’t remember them being quite so pretty,” the other commented, and you could hear the amusement but didn’t dare take your eyes off the witch in front of you. The nails snapped back, and the two walked away without another word. 

-

The cabin had one bedroom, a living and kitchen area, and an outhouse. A few hens cluck around outside, along with a particularly nasty rooster you caught Manon eyeing once in a while. Like it would be her next meal. 

You laid, stretched across the couch with your head in Asterin’s lap, her fingers running through your hair, and Manon sat not too far away, in a worn down but cozy red armchair you’d come to associate as hers. 

A tension filled the room, both of the witches seeming on edge, and you couldn’t figure out why. Finally, you sighed and sat up, ignoring Asterin’s huff of protest and angling yourself so you could easily see both of them. “What is it?” you asked. 

“We’re leaving.” Manon said bluntly, and Asterin winced. 

“When?” You replied, fighting the dread that crept inside you. The left frequently, but something about this felt different. Off. 

“One week.” 

Your heart dropped, eyes starting to burn slightly but Manon wouldn’t react to your tears, she never did. Asterin, on the other hand, would. To anyone else, except maybe the rest of the thirteen, she would seem just as unflinching, the perfect mask of stone obedience. But, the corners of her lips turned down ever so slightly. Guilt, you could sense her guilt. If they were telling you this early … 

You cleared your throat, “how long?” 

“We don’t know.” Asterin said softly. 

“Can I ask what you’ll be doing?” 

“You can always ask,” she teased, but it fell short. She and Manon exchanged a glance, and Asterin continued - to your surprise. “The King has been breeding Wyvern’s. He needs riders for his aerial cavalry.” 

The world froze around you. You felt fate tightening its strings, twisting around your heart. Ironteeth witches as aerial cavalry for the king's army. That same army who … but they didn’t know about that, or they never would’ve told you. 

“Are you going to say anything?” Manon snapped, your silence annoying her. She didn’t like being ignored. 

“Why?” You looked back and forth between the two of them. 

“When we are done, when we’ve served” Manon said the word with disgust, “him, we will keep the wyverns and reclaim the wastes.” 

The wastes. The homeland both of them had been dreaming of for longer than you were alive. But serving him? The King had already conquered Erilea, committed various genocides, banished magic, and had an entire continent under his thumb. What more is he planning to do? Manon, herself, would never make the choice to serve a king, to follow his orders, meaning it had to have come from her grandmother. The High Witch of the Blackbeak clan. You tried to swallow your anger, you really did, but the words came out before your filter could catch up. 

“Is this how you’re going to spend the rest of your life, following your grandmothers every order, whoring yourself out to that King?” Before you could blink, both were on their feet. Manon’s iron nails dug harshly into your skin, and you felt the warm slick of blood starting to drip down your neck as she dragged you to your feet. 

“I should kill you.” Manon snarled, cold fury in her eyes. You’d insulted her, hit right where it would hurt. Good. Asterin laid a hand on her cousin's shoulder, but her eyes were cold too. 

“Do it,” you snarled right back, “your never master would order you to anyway.” 

Asterin barely yanked Manon back in time, scratches that would scar left blood dripping down your neck. “Be careful what you say next,” she warned as Manon shook off her grip. Seconds ago, Manon may have killed you but you could tell she wouldn’t now. 

“I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.” 

Two sets of footsteps left, the door creaked open and slammed shut, and hushed arguments sounded outside your door. Too quiet for you to hear. One set came back in as the heavy oak door creaked, but closed quietly this time. 

“She does care,” Asterin said softly, her arms wrapping around your waist to pull your back to her chest. Despite the anger still bubbling in you, you melted back into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “She’ll be back in a few days,” she murmured, not expecting a reply from you. 

She let you lay in her arms until late that night, content to enjoy each others embrace, as if she knew what would happen next. 

-

Manon stormed towards your cabin, intent on doing something. She wouldn’t apologize, but didn’t want to leave on those terms, with your words in her mind. Whoring yourself out. Your new master. If you were anyone else, you would’ve been dead before the second curse had been uttered. 

Asterin followed closely behind her. They knew something was off as soon as they arrived. It felt stale. The hens and that gods-damned rooster were nowhere to be seen. She slammed through the door and the place was empty. You hadn’t been there in a few days. A quick scan told her everything essential to you was gone.

She whirled on Asterin. “Did you know?” Her second shook her head, her emotions flooding through her eyes. 

A small note on the table. Manon’s stomach dropped seeing it. She didn’t want to, but she had to read it. Instinct told her the note was meant mostly for her, even without a name on it., 

I love you. If you ever loved, cared for, or respected me, you’ll leave me alone. I hope you learn to think for yourself one day. 

Discolored spots and splotched ink littered the page. You cried while writing it. Manon dropped it like it burned her, and stalked out the cabin without a look back. 

Asterin read it one. Twice. Three times, and memorized it before destroying it. She took one last look around, trying to memorize every detail, before letting out a long breath and following Manon. 

-

The battle was over, and Manon still felt empty. A gaping hole left in her soul. Twelve pieces of her were missing. But, footsteps sounded behind her, and she prepared to snarl at whoever might be disturbing her. She was surprised when Abraxos didn’t react beyond curiosity. Manon knew that scent. Intimately. She whirled around to see you. Alive. 

“So you did learn to think for yourself.” 

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part Twelve (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: Trauma and betrayal O.O

Part eleven Part thirteen

Tag list: Open

Y/N and Eris are struggling to go back to normal, and Eris and Sam still don't like each other.

Sorry I'm not keeping up with posting! I've been having trouble sitting down and writing, and my motivation is waning 😭

Maybe it was petty, but I didn’t care.  I was quiet, a smile on my face that I didn’t feel the whole time we got ready, and still once we made it into the nearby forest.

“And you’re absolutely fine?”  Eris questioned again as he followed me through the forest.

Sam had taught me long ago how to find the almost invisible traces he left if I ever needed to find him.  And sure enough, I found them here.

“Again, why wouldn’t I be?  Nothing bad happened.”  I say, and I feel a twinge of guilt for not being honest with him.

But I need his help, and I do not need him storming off in a huff and leaving me alone to figure this out.

So I continued to lie.

I don’t know what would happen if he actually figured out what was wrong before I told him, but I didn’t really want to know.

All my years in the afterlife, I never found anyone I cared for as much as I had Eris.  It wasn’t like I was waiting for him, but I had never found someone I could truly be myself with besides him.

It hurt too much to remember that he’s not interested, that we were just friends.

But it is enough for me.

If I can keep my damn emotions in check that is.

Eventually I found the old withered cabin Sam must be staying in.  Eris made to just stride in the front door, but I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.  “Are you trying to die?”  I ask him sharply.

He gives me a baffled look, and I roll my eyes, using my magic to open the door from a distance.

A flurry of arrows rained down in the doorway, and Eris paled.

“You seriously weren't expecting him to have defenses up?”  I ask, a brow raising in question.

Eris grimaced, “Do you?”

I nod.  “Not so violent or obvious, but you work with what you have.”

“Wow.  Rude.”  Sam said from one of the trees above us, and I snorted as Eris’s head swiveled back and around, trying to find him in the trees.

Sam gracefully landed on the ground, and I could tell Eris was highly unnerved.

I on the other hand chuckled, moving to give my friend a hug.  “I’m guessing you haven’t figured out how to use that thing we stole yet, have you?”  I tease a bit, pulling away after a moment.

I could feel Eris willing me to look at him like a physical string, but I ignored it.

He sighed, obviously already tired of me.  “No, I haven’t.  Though, from the research I’ve done, I found it’s called an Astral, and is somehow linked to the Astrei.”  He said, a slight edge to his tone.

I stiffened.  In my small group of trusted friends in afterlife, Sam and Asterin were the only two who hadn’t had direct contact with the Asteri in some way, so they still only had a faint clue as to what they could do.

“We’ll have to be careful then.”  I murmur, more to myself than to him.

What we’ve been working at for years was to put a stop to the Asteri.  The last thing we needed was them showing up here where no one was ready for a battle.

It wouldn’t be a battle, it would be a massacre. The thought hit me like an arrow, making me wince.

“Let’s see it then.”  Eris said, a bit impatiently.

Sam glared at him.  “You’re not in charge here.”  Sam gritted out, and I rolled my eyes.

“Both of you cut it the fuck out.”  I snapped, and Eris seemed taken aback.  Sam was used to this me though, and shrugged.

Letting Sam lead us through the remaining traps, we all took a seat at the kitchen table, if you could call the rotting piece of wood even that.

The Astral was now sitting in the middle of the table, and I examined it, prodding it with my magic.

I could scent both of my friends' agitation and finally growled, “If you two are going to be pissy and beat your chests, can you do it where it’s not breaking my concentration?”

Sam must have shot Eris a look as he rises, because Eris growls as he watches Sam leave.

“That included you.”  I say, not taking my eyes off of the Astral.

Eris shifted uncomfortably.  “You’re upset with me.”  He says plainly, and I stiffen.

“Yes.”  I say, sighing as I temporarily give up on studying the Astral.  I tilt my head as I look at him, letting him see my displeasure.

“What-”

A crash makes me shoot to my feet.  Eris and I give each other only one look before we’re both sprinting out the front door to find Sam holding a dagger against someone's neck.

Azriel’s neck.

Our eyes meet and I watch his face flicker to surprise and then hurt as he sees who I’m with.

“Sam, let him go.”  I hiss, storming over and leaving Eris behind me.

Sam raised an eyebrow, quickly taking the knife away and stepping back, but still eyeing him cautiously.  “Another friend of yours?”  He asked, and Azriel eyed him also, sizing up this human who had gotten the drop on him.

My lip twitched up in a smirk as I thought about how everyone would tease Az for letting a human sneak up on him.

Sam wasn’t just any human though.

Any semblance of a smile fled from my face as Azriel turned his gaze onto me.  “Y/N, what’s going on here?”

He was still used to me being sweet and pliant.  So he wasn’t expecting me to roll my eyes, sticking my hands in my pockets and say, “I don’t know Azriel, maybe you should keep a closer eye on family members.”

His eyes widened, nostrils flaring slightly as he realized who exactly Erica was.

The cool mask he usually wore was cracked, and I took that moment of him being unsure to say, “I’m trying to fix things, and the last thing I need is you and my brother interfering right now.”

His face snapped into it’s cool unbothered state.  “But you need him?”  Azriel half growled, his eyes burrowing into me.

My shoulders straightened.  I was not letting fucking Azriel make me back down.  I had faced the Asteri and won, my brother’s friend was like a goddamned angry puppy in comparison.

“Well, maybe it’s-”  Eris started, but shut up when I shot him a glare.

“Contrary to popular opinion-”  I say, turning my head back to Azriel who only had a glimmer of shock in his hazel eyes.  “Eris can be helpful, nice even.”

Azriel studied me carefully.  “What happened to you?”

I sigh. I relax slightly as I run my hand through my hair.  “I was always like this Az.  I’m sure you remember dear old dad?”  I ask, looking up at him.

His eyes darted to Sam and Eris, as if waiting for them to leave.

Both of them had heard this story before.

Azriel, realizing no one was going to leave, tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Of course.

“I wasn’t allowed to be anything other than what everyone saw.  The pretty lady of night who was as harmless as a dove.  That was never who I really was, but I had to hide who I was because of my father.”  As I spoke, I saw Azriel’s gaze darken.

“You could have told us.  You could have been yourself around us.”

His voice was angry, and I shouldn’t blame him, I really shouldn’t.

But my day was already shit, and he wasn’t fucking listening.

“When were we ever in a room where my father, or someone loyal to my father wasn’t also in there?”  I ask, staring at him.

“We are going home.”  He snarled, walking up and attempting to grab my arm.

I say attempting because Sam was right back at him with the dagger and Eris stepped in front of me, protecting us with a wall of fire.

“It looks like no one is going anywhere for awhile.”  Eris said with a smug smile.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

May Creator of the Month: Saibug1022

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists, and this month’s creator of the month is @saibug1022! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? 

Salem, Sai, or saibug are all good! They/he pronouns

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I started playing Choices in 2017-ish, I don’t remember what my first book was for sure but I remember the first book I played that really drew me in and got me into the app was The Elementalists.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I don’t think I really joined the fandom until…a few weeks after that mass cancellation announcement where they announced they’d cancelled It Lives 3, Elementalists 2, Nightbound 2, Hero 2, and RoD 2.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

Originally it was a mashup of my dead name and a sweet nickname from my childhood, so when I came out I just changed it to incorporate my new name instead :)

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

It was a repost of this screenshot and honestly I was right and should say it. Also this question taught me the archive feature existed so thank you that’ll come in handy lmao

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both? 

I write fanfiction! I am trying to learn and practice art so who knows what could happen in the future. Oh and I also do lots of edits :)

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

If we’re talking my true origins I actually started writing by writing Supernatural x reader fics in like 2017, but I didn’t start writing the fics I write now until Sanders Sides in 2019 and then I finally got around to Choices in about 2022 lmao. 7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My favorite book is probably ILITW which is probably obvious, but as for my favorite book to CREATE for that’s tied between It Lives Within and BOLAS.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

My first fic was for Nightbound, called The Wrong Engagement. I still like it overall but I think I’d definitely change some things. When I first started writing for Choices I was so so focused on trying to keep MC as vague as possible while still giving them some character, so the stories often came across as bland or even boring.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created? 

My absolute favorite fic is actually something I don’t think I ever posted, but my favorite I’ve posted has probably gotta be a classic which is Val’s Resurrection. There are definitely some things I’d probably change now but it’s the longest fic I’ve written, still really holds up, and I’m really proud of the characterizations in it.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

Walls of Regret is probably my biggest fic ever and let me tell you when I posted and wrote it I did not expect it to do as well as it did but I’m so glad it did. I can definitely think of some fics I think people would really like that didn’t get much love, including pretty much everything from the Windverse, but I gotta say Let The Shadows Fall Behind You, which is a fic/scene from my personal ongoing project, a Hero and Endless Summer Crossover

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

Angst, wholeheartedly, no hesitation. Angst is not only my talent but kind of what I’m known for. I actually kind of struggle to write fluff and ESPECIALLY smut. I’ve only done it a few times and it took days of me staring at the page for days and getting out maybe one sentence an hour.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Oh all of them. Every single MC has a little piece of me, whether it’s my experiences or my personality or my style or my interests or even the way I talk. 

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

With smut at least I get ideas. I struggle so much with even getting ideas for fluff. My favorite things is to dive into the emotions and pain and trauma PB dance around, and finding the beauty in the dark things. I defer to the other amazing writers on this app for the fluff and I consume their fluff fics like a drowning man

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Two things off the top of my head. My concept for a Hero sequel which includes an Endless Summer crossover. I mentioned that earlier. The second is something fondly called Into the Rowan-verse which was where my two ILW MCs, Castor and Julian, get stuck hopping through the multiverse and meeting a bunch of other people’s MCs.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first? 

It highly depends on the person and then from there I think I’d just show them my edits or character profiles because my fics you tend to need either full contextual knowledge or at least basic knowledge of the book.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

Published writers definitely Rick Riordan, he’s seriously influenced how I use character voices. But from the fandom my biggest inspirations right now are usually @aces-and-angels and @oh-so-you’re-a-nerd 

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

If I saw Into the Windverse does that count as cheating? But otherwise I’d die for my version of the It Lives Anthology (including ILW and Into the Rowanverse) to be made into a tv show with my headcanons, changes, and MCs.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art? 

I do! I have an entire book trilogy fully plotted out that I’m working on writing, plus just writing a bunch with my own OCs.

19 -  What other hobbies do you have?

Pretty much just OC related things tbh. I watch tv a lot and YouTube, I play video games sometimes, and I listen to music ALL the time

[yoihoshi-maki]

Okay people I got questions…..

First of all I have to many fanfic ideas so here are the top there( I have no clue which ones to keep doing or just side questing all of them, I have some many 📍 ideas of these)

Here they are go read the info and then decide

[ggukgoldensoul]

𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖞

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★

☆What is this? Since I haven't written anything for kinktober, I have decided to do my own masterlist.

☆What are you going to find here? In this masterlist, you will find fanfics inspired in the gothic aesthetic, dark academia, fantasy aesthetic, dark vibes...

☆Minors, please DO NOT INTERACT

☆My fanfics they have nothing to do with the worlds of Tog and Acotar. That is, there will be no spoilers or any canon events from the books. Yes, the places mentioned are from the books, but nothing about events that appear in the books.

｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖

｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝕷𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖇𝖔𝖔𝖐

⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱

𖤐Teacher x student: Rowan x reader

𖤐Academic rivals x reader: Aelin x reader

𖤐Friends to lovers: Feyre x reader

𖤐One bed trope: Rhys x reader

𖤐Rommate: Dorian x reader

𖤐Vampire x mortal: Azriel x reader

𖤐Goddess x reader: Nesta x reader

𖤐Queen x knight: Lorcan x reader

𖤐Grumpy x sunshine: Manon x reader

𖤐Childhood friends to lovers: Cassian x reader

𖤐Exes to lovers: Lysandra x reader

𖤐 Promised at birth: Elain x reader

𖤐Old brother x reader: Aedion x reader

𖤐 Cottage elf girl x reader!elf: Elide x reader

𖤐 Fake dating: Asterin x reader

𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖗𝖉

⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱

𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘:

@danikamariewrites & @throneofsapphics

(If you want to be tagged, just comment )

｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖

all rights reserved to ©ggukgoldensoul no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 20: Home /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N finally reunite.

Word Count: 3,9K

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes: This chapter was a little bit hard to write cuz it's always difficult to say goodbye to a fic, I can't believe this is the last one. Thank you for all of your support in this, love you all.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

The sweet aroma of coffee filled her senses, luring her forward until she pushed the wooden door open. A simple kitchen welcomed her, with white cupboards and a marble countertop, near the stove, a female with blonde hair stood there, humming lowly some old lullaby, she poured the boiling water over the coffee powder and two mugs waited to be used by the side. 

“Sit down, it’s almost done.” She said and Y/N did as told, the old chair scraping against the floor, as she pulled it near the crackling fire, the heart of the old cabin, warming the entire space, making her feel cosy as she waited. 

She reached for the fire, heating her numb hands, the snow fell outside, the snowflakes softly getting rustled in the air. She sighed with relief, rubbing her palms together, she needed it, that light, that heat.

“You always loved the fire, drawn to it like a little moth, seeking its warmth.” Asterin said, placing the mug in front of her, she took it, nodding her head in appreciation, hearing as the older witch pulled her chair near her as she sipped on the perfect coffee, feeling her chest boil with heat. 

“The fire reminds me of you, you’ve always been the torch in the middle of the darkness.” Asterin chuckled and she basked in that sound, letting it fill the void in her heart, turning to the side, her sister looked like she always did, with a soft glow around her. Suddenly her face turned into a frown and she lifted her hand, wiping the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Why do you cry?” She inquired and Y/N lowered her head, not daring to look into those eyes. 

“Because I never got to say goodbye.” She mumbled and Asterin lifted her chin with a long finger.

“But I never left, did I? I was with you, right here.” She pointed to her own heart. “I'm alive in your memories, in your love for me, in the people we helped, in everything we left behind.”

“But this won't ever be enough, nothing is enough to ease the pain your absence brings me every waking moment.” Her voice was low, filled with hurt as she poured her heart out to her sister, she was never able to do that before. “Nothing is worth living for if you're not here.” 

“You found the only exception, the one that made all that pain, all the sacrifice you ever made worth it, the one worth enduring everything for his love.” She pointed out and Y/N sobbed harder.

“And what for? To never see him again, no matter how much I keep fighting, I always lose in the end.” 

“You didn't have to come back…” Y/N snorted. 

“I had to, because that's what is expected of me, I have a role to fulfil. I have to be like you.” She sounded so tired.

“It pains me to hear this, that they did the same thing to you. I left the love of my life, the life I wanted behind because I was too blind to see past other people's expectations, a warrior, a weapon, destruction, death, war. It makes me sad that you made the same mistake, no one wants you to be me, you don't have to, you're your own person and if anything, you shouldn't be like me, you shouldn't give up on the love you deserve so much, the happiness you would have by his side.”

“It's too late for me now.” She quietly lowered her head again. 

“It is not, you still have time, don't let your inner demons control you, what happened was meant to happen, you couldn't have stopped any of us, we made that choice and it isn't your fault.”

“I FAILED YOU, I SHOULD'VE PROTECTED YOU THE SAME WAY YOU PROTECTED ME.” she shouted, her voice echoing on the walls of the cabin. 

“You never failed me, not when you chose me as your family, not when you brought my daughter here, giving her the dignity and love I couldn't, not when you followed me to war, choosing a better world, not when you ended up almost dead fighting for what was right, I couldn't be more proud of you than I am.”

Her words hurt, old wounds open up ,bleeding profusely, causing so much pain that she didn't know if she could take it, why did it have to be like this? She sipped on the forgotten coffee, trying to focus on something else to calm herself down. 

“I had to die to finally live the love I always craved, I had to be buried in the ground to finally be free to be with my family. Please, don't convince yourself that you have to do this as well. You found something truly unique, don't let that go to waste, don't miss your chance. Not again.” Asterin begged.

“And what if I already lost it?” Asterin grabbed her hand, pulling It to her chest, and she could feel the beating heart against her palm, she didn't know how this was possible. 

“The gods work in mysterious ways and love always finds a way, it's not over yet.” She raised an eyebrow curiously. 

“What do you mean?” She inquired.

“Trust your heart, allow it to guide you back to what is yours, back to him.” Asterin advised and she nodded her head. “We don't have much time left, please never forget that I love you.” 

“Fuck, I miss you so much.” She leaned against Asterin's shoulder. 

“One day we'll be together again,but that day is not now Please, tell Manon that we're proud of her, just as much as we're proud of you.” Asterin said, getting up, Y/N followed her, the older witch wrapped her arms around her and she sniffled the sweet scent of Asterin, the comfort she desperately sought, finally making itself known.

“I love you.” She whispered. 

“Me too, with all my heart.” Asterin replied, departing the hug and walking outside, where a male with a baby in his arms waited for her and eleven fierce warriors waved at Y/N. Her heart squeezed at the sight, waving back and yelling at them that she missed her friends.

She gasped when she woke, wiping the waterfall of tears that fell down her cheeks, she rested her hand on her chest, feeling her beating heart. She was alive, and she was going to live like she wanted, if her chance was really coming back to her, she would grab it with her claws and teeth and never let him go again. 

Later that morning, she met a worried Fenrys, who definitely noticed how her face seemed lighter, like the darkness that clouded her life was finally dissipating, he had blinked three times to which she blinked one time, enough to appease him. He had come to her, hugging her and asking if she was ready to go to Orynth, for the ball in two days. 

She had nodded, getting her backpack and helping him up Meraxes’ back, riding her dear wyvern with the rest of Queen Manon's caravan towards Terrasen, where the pull on her chest urged her to. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How long are you guys locking us in?” Nesta bumped her metal plate against the iron bars, their weapons being taken away from them when the tall warrior had “gently” escorted them to the cell they were currently locked in. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you guys locked, we're waiting for our queen to decide how to deal with this situation.” The kind female spoke as she emerged from the shadows, her hair braided away from her face, her brown eyes scanned their figures up and down, each one of them kept in different cells, so they wouldn’t try to do anything. 

“Is she coming?” Elain asked and the female, Elide, turned to her, smiling gracefully.

“She’ll join us this afternoon, I’m here to offer you all a bath and a fresh pair of clothes if you want it.” She offered and Elain was the first to raise her hand. 

“Please, I feel disgusting.” Elide nodded and went to her cell, freeing her and taking Elain with her. By the door, the tall male watched them with a sneer, escorting the small female back to where they came from. 

It took two days since they arrived, in a place called Perranth, for them to be captured, it was too late when they realised that winged people weren’t that common there and everyone was staring at them as they walked in the city, leading to their later imprisonment, by the hands of the Lord of Perranth himself, Lord Lorcan. 

They were being kept in a dungeon, understanding why they were there but pissed anyway for allowing themselves to be taken by these people. One hour and a half later they were all clean and in fresh clothes, stuffing their mouths with delicious food and wine, being accompanied by Elide and her mate.  

“This tastes delicious, my lady. Thank you.” Lucien bowed his head towards the lady of the house and Elide smiled at him. 

“When is your queen arriving?” Azriel tried again, to which Lorcan replied. 

“My queen will arrive whenever she deems fit, be grateful that we’re allowing you to join us.” Elide felt her cheeks getting hot at his tone and rested a warm hand around his arm.

“You hear that, Buzzard? He called me his queen.” A blonde female said as she entered the room, hands on her hips as she eyed the Lord and made kissing noises to him, to which he just rolled his eyes.

Behind her, another tall fae slowly walked, white hair and a tattoo on the side of his face, he was beautiful, in a way that they would think of him as a god, but prettier than him, was how he looked at her, like she was the only female that walked on this earth, his eyes shining with pride and undeniably love, he kept a respectful distance but they knew he would give his life  to protect her if he had to. Nesta sniffled the air, mates, just like Elide and Lorcan. 

“He’s finally warming up to you, Fireheart.” The male gave Lorcan’s shoulder a tight squeeze prompting him to groan. Elide was already up, greeting the female with a hug. 

“Please join us, are you hungry, Aelin?” She pulled a chair for Aelin. “We have chocolate cake.” The female looked at Elide, her blue eyes sparkling with anxiety and she nodded her head. 

“You know how to win me over.” She pinched Elide’s cheek and the smaller female signalled for the maid to bring the dessert, their plates getting taken away. She turned to them, her eyes locking with Nesta’s, but she didn’t lower her head. “You must be our guests for the day, I’m Aelin Ashryver Withethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen.” It was purely out of fear of losing their necks that they bowed to her. “That's Rowan, King of Terrasen.”

“What brings you all here? We have never seen anyone like you.” Rowan pointed towards  the two illyrians, their wings scraping against the floor in those normal chairs. Aelin kept looking at them. 

“We’re looking for someone.” Lucien took the lead, trying to appear friendly. Aelin smiled.

“She promised we wouldn’t have to worry about any of you because you had no interest in our world, yet, here you are, in my Kingdom.” She pointed her fork at them, before dipping it in the chocolate frosting. 

“We have no ill intentions, we just want my mate back.” Azriel said and they all looked at him surprised. 

“She didn’t mention a mate.” Rowan pointed out and Azriel felt his heart shatter a bit, was she embarrassed of being his mate? Why wouldn’t she say anything about him if she talked about them?

“It’s what a good ruler would do, protect their people from any harm, we understand.” Cassian said, giving them a smile to which Elide returned. 

“Well, after everything she went through, I guess she wanted to keep this pain to herself.” Aelin concluded. “We apologise for keeping you all as prisoners but you must understand that we’ve been through many things and we can’t let our guards down.”

“You all came here, without knowing how it would be, to see Y/N?” Elide asked and Azriel nodded.

“I would go to Hell for her. Elain saw her, and I couldn’t bear being away from her, knowing she needs me.” His shadows moved faster at the mention of her.

“I’m sure she will appreciate seeing you all there.” Aelin spoke, taking the last bite of cake towards her mouth. She got up and Gestured towards them and towards the door. “I’m hosting a ball in Orynth in two days, you are my special guests, Y/N is a dear friend of mine and I want her to be happy, let’s go.”

“We would like to have our things back.” Nesta said as she got up. Lorcan ordered a male to grab their things and soon they were ready to leave, following the Queen and her King in horseback towards Orynth, where Azriel would finally see her again. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N smoothed the fabric of her deep green dress, with a flowy skirt, a crossed neckline, a golden corset hugging her frame and long sleeves, she looked beautiful, feeling the winds on her skin. Behind her back, Godslayer looked like an adornment complimenting her figure, but she still had to escort her queen, and she would be prepared. 

“Ready to go?” Fenrys asked from the door, his suit was a different shade of green, all matching the Terrasen official colour palette. She nodded, checking herself once more, before accepting his extended hand. 

They walked with the other witches, Manon and Aelin had asked him to stay with her so she wouldn’t be left alone, they were still worried about her after the failed attempt. She hated being babysitted but she understood their reasoning, deciding not to argue against them, knowing it was a lost battle. 

The ballroom was filled to the brim with people, she spotted Aelin at the throne, Lysandra by her side as the two giggled about something, and crossing the ocean of people, King Dorian Havilliard made his way towards Manon, bowing to her before placing a kiss to he back of her hand, whisking her away to the dancefloor. 

“We knew this would happen, let’s just grab something to drink, you don’t have to be her guard all night.” Fenrys whispered in her ear, guiding her with a hand on her back, towards the food filled table.  

Y/N sipped on the fizzy drink he offered her, a weird sensation of being watched as she did so, her eyes scanned the crowd, spotting in the middle of the dance floor, a couple dancing, huge wings poking from in between the people as he spun her in the air, her hair cascading down her back in a straight line, fierce blue eyes meeting hers in a millisecond. She could only be imagining things, there was no way those were Cassian and Nesta, not here at least.

Through the night, she kept glancing at the couple that looked like them so much, she also spotted a male with his long red hair in a ponytail, hand in hand with a female with flowers on her hair, and here and there she decided that she indeed was going insane, her friends wouldn’t ever cross the border for her, they weren’t there and she would never see them again.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere more private? This is starting to bore me.” Fenrys spoke against the shell of her ear, and she nodded. 

He escorted them through the empty halls of the castle, stopping in front of a door, pushing it open and urging her inside, telling her to wait for him while he fetched something for them to drink. Fenrys closed the door rather quickly, leaving her alone in the darkness. A cold breeze danced on her skin, she swore it was shadows dancing against her, creating goosebumps whenever they touched her. 

And as a light appeared, illuminating the room, she saw Azriel sitting on a chair, her knees almost faltering as she drank him in, hair falling to his forehead in loose curls, a suit matching her dress, his wings standing proudly behind him. She couldn’t control herself, afraid this was some sort of sick joke her brain was pulling in her, she jumped in his lap. 

Feeling him underneath her fingertips, looking at him so closely, feeling his warmth and his scent, it all told her that it was real and he was there for her, the chance Asterin promised in a dream, right in front of her now. She glued her lips to his, kissing him with all the longing she felt in those months apart, her chest almost bursting open with all the emotions coming from the bond, humming with life after being reunited with her mate.

“You came.” She breathed as they departed, resting her forehead against his, her eyes closed, just feeling him there. 

“I promised to respect your decision, but I couldn't live without you. You have to come back to our home.” He cupped her cheek. “I’ll build you a cabin with the garden and the books you dreamed about, I’ll learn how to take care of sheeps so Meraxes will always have fresh food, I’ll make all of your dreams happen, I’m yours for you to use whoever you please.” 

She leaned in again, kissing him repeatedly, her heart beating so loudly that she knew it reverberated throughout the whole room. She traced his features, exactly like she remembered him to be. 

“I love you, words are never going to be enough to express how much I waited for you, for the love of my life. I want to marry you, call you my husband, have our children running around and driving us insane. I want to grow old with you, spend every single moment of my life by your side until the gods decide that it is enough.” Azriel and her were crying now, while they smiled at each other.

“I’ll give you the greatest wedding ever, I’ll climb Ramiel and yell to the world to hear that you’re mine, and I’m yours, until The Mother decides that it is enough.” Someone knocked on the door and he rolled his eyes. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Elain, Lucien, Nesta and Cassian at the other side, squeezing themselves in and pulling her to greet her. She passed from hug to hug, talk to talk, hearing how they all went against Rhysand’s orders and jumped to Erilea to get them back, without realising, she was crying harder at that sight.

“I can’t believe you all came for me.” She sobbed.

“You’re family, we don’t leave family behind.” Cassian said, pulling them all for a hug. “Are you ready to go home?” 

“More than ever.” She assured them. 

“But don’t think that you’re leaving without saying goodbye.” Manon said from the door, behind her all of her friends waited for her. “Asterin would be really proud of you.” Manon pulled her for a hug.

“She is, and she’s proud of you too, all of them are, they wanted you to know that.” She whispered into her queen’s ear and Manon felt her heart squeeze at her words, she could just hope that her Thirteen were proud of her, after all, all that Manon did was for them.

“Promise you will visit.” Lysandra said, embracing her. 

“I will, we can always find a way to forge a second key.” She winked, embracing all of her friends. Aedion, Dorian, Lorcan, Elide, Rowan and then Aelin.

“If you change your mind, we’re all here waiting for you, but remember, you deserve to be happy, never forget that.” She cried on Aelin's shoulder and they all smiled at her. 

“Don’t ever forget me.” Fenrys said, approaching her after she let Aelin go.

“How could I ever forget you? You saved me.” She looked at him, blinking four times, to which he replied, blinking four times too. “I love you Fenrys, thank you for being my friend.” The male hugged her again.

“I’ll miss you, but please, be happy. I love you.” She nodded, promising that she would.

That night, after she said goodbye to all of them, they walked the group outside the walls of Orynth, giving her one last chance of looking at the Thirteen, her eyes remaining on Asterin’s figure a little while longer. She would make Asterin proud by living her life as she pleased, being happy and giving a chance to live the love she wanted so much. 

She waved them goodbye, Nesta opened the gate, the slit in the sky. Meraxes roared loudly, being the first one to cross, followed by Elain and Lucien, then Cassian and Nesta, and finally, after looking for the land she called home for a century, she grabbed Azriel’s hand a little bit tighter as the crossed towards Prythian again, falling in between the world until they landed on top of Ramiel.

“You should rest, we have Valkyrie training tomorrow morning.” Nesta warned, being carried by Cassian towards what she could only presume was Velaris. 

“And we have gardening lessons at noon.” Elain winked, disappearing with Lucien as he winnowed away, leaving her and Azriel alone.

“I’m glad to have you back.” He said, the winds roaring around them.

“I’m glad to be back.” She replied, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again.

“I agree with the girls, we should head home and rest.” Azriel spoke, urging her towards Meraxes, watching as she climbed the wyvern’s leg, using his wings to get on top, strapping himself behind her, resting his head on top of her shoulder. “We have a wedding to plan.”

“A wedding?” She gasped, using the reins to make Meraxes fly.

“Yes, a big wedding, big enough to accommodate you friends, I’m sure Aelin would be pissed if she missed it, she was eager to help Nesta with the plan to get us back together, I’m sure those two will find a way to make a new key just so they can talk about books.” He laughed.

“Bringing them here?” The winds whipped her hair around.

“We may have made a deal of friendship, visiting each other’s world whenever we want, just because you chose me, doesn’t mean you have to stay away from them.” 

“You didn’t have to.” She whispered, her words being carried with the wind.

“I know it would make you sad not to see them, and I want to make sure that you don’t have sad days anymore, just happiness.” He kissed her neck and she blushed. 

“No more sad days then. I love you Azriel.”

“And I love you much more than you can even imagine.” She smiled at him, love filling the cracks in her heart, finally making her a whole person again, to never be broken and damaged again, she would never be like she was before, she would never feel small or afraid in her life. After all, her name was Y/N Blackbeak and she would not be afraid. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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