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callsigns-haze · 4 months ago

Text

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 5

Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

Azriel has the perfect life. You as his wife. Kaia as his daughter. But him and the boys are stupid enough to challenge you for a week and then his perfect life might simply...disappear

Warning: ANGST, mentions of past lovers, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing, mentions of injured child, drinking, mentions of character death (nobody is dead though they just mention it), throwing up, Az being an ass and MC being a badass mama, kidnapping, mentions of physical force against characters, mentions of bleeding.

Word count: 16.4k

The guards at the River House barely had time to react as Eris winnowed into the courtyard, his usual composed demeanour replaced with an urgency that radiated off him like heat from a flame. His fiery hair was dishevelled, and his sharp features were drawn tight with exhaustion and determination.

Two Illyrian sentries stepped forward, wings flaring slightly in caution. "State your business, Eris Vanserra," one of them said sharply, though his grip on the hilt of his sword remained steady.

"I don’t have time for pleasantries," Eris snapped, his amber eyes blazing as he strode past them with a commanding air. "I need to see Rhysand. Now. Tell him it’s about Kaia."

The guards hesitated for only a moment before one of them nodded, stepping aside and sending a mental note to their High Lord. Eris didn’t wait for formalities or introductions; he shoved the heavy doors open and stormed into the River House, the sound of his boots echoing off the marble floors.

Inside, the tension in the air was palpable. Rhys was already in the main room, standing hunched over a table scattered with maps and reports. His hair was tousled from days of restless searching, and dark circles rimmed his violet eyes. Cassian sat nearby, sharpening a blade, his face grim and his posture radiating barely contained frustration. Azriel leaned against the far wall, his shadows shifting in a restless, agitated dance, his haunted expression betraying how close he was to breaking.

Eris didn’t bother with decorum. "Rhysand!" he barked, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

Rhysand’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing as he took in Eris’s wild appearance. "What are you doing here, Eris?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Cassian and Azriel straightened, both watching the Lord of Autumn Court with barely veiled suspicion.

"I found her," Eris said, his voice sharp and urgent, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run the entire way. "I found Kaia."

The room froze. Rhysand’s expression turned from wary to disbelieving in the blink of an eye. Cassian stood abruptly, his blade clattering to the floor, and Azriel pushed off the wall so quickly his shadows scattered in confusion. "What did you say?" Rhys asked, his voice dangerously soft as though he didn’t dare hope.

"I found her," Eris repeated, more slowly this time, his voice steady and certain. "She’s at the Forest House with a healer. She’s alive."

Rhysand staggered back a step, his hand gripping the edge of the table for support. His violet eyes were wide, shining with a mixture of hope and disbelief. "Alive?" he whispered, as though testing the word on his tongue.

Cassian let out a string of curses, his wings flaring wide, while Azriel simply stared at Eris, his face blank but his shadows curling tightly around him, a storm waiting to erupt.

"She’s injured bad," Eris continued, glancing at each of them in turn. "Her wings... they’ve been damaged, and she’s weak. But she’s alive, Rhysand. She’s safe for now."

Azriel’s voice broke the silence, low and razor-edged. "Take me to her. Now."

Rhysand straightened, the shock on his face hardening into resolve. "Cassian, alert the others. Azriel—" he stopped as his brother began striding toward Eris without hesitation. "Go. Now."

Eris didn’t need further prompting. He held out a hand, and Azriel grasped it without a word. In a flash of flame, the two were gone, leaving Rhys, Cassian, and the heavy weight of relief mingled with dread in their wake.

Azriel and Eris winnowed into the Forest House, the cold air of the autumn woods immediately replaced by the warmth of the small, dimly lit structure. The faint scent of herbs and antiseptic wafted through the air, and the crackling of a nearby hearth filled the silence. Azriel didn’t take a moment to orient himself—his focus was already on the figure standing rigidly outside a closed door.

Lucien.

The Autumn Court emissary leaned against the wall beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His russet eye glimmered in the low light, while his mechanical eye rotated subtly, scanning the hallway with precise attention. At the sound of their arrival, Lucien’s gaze snapped toward them.

"Finally," he said, his tone a mixture of relief and tension. His usually sharp and calculated demeanour was tempered by something softer—an almost sympathetic edge.

Azriel was on him in an instant, stepping so close their noses were nearly touching. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice rough, strained. His shadows lashed around him, crackling with his barely-contained fury and desperation.

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He gestured to the closed door beside him. "In there. The healer is with her."

Azriel moved toward the door, but Lucien stepped in front of him, holding up a hand. "Wait," he said firmly, his golden eye locking onto Azriel’s. "She’s stable, but she’s in bad shape. You need to be prepared for that before you go in there."

Eris, standing a few feet back, observed the exchange silently, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

Azriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, and his wings flared slightly, the tips twitching as though he could barely restrain himself. "Move," he growled, his voice low and lethal.

Lucien held his ground, his gaze steady but not unkind. "I’m serious, Shadowsinger. You’re not going to want to see her like this—not without bracing yourself first."

"I’ve been searching for many weeks," Azriel hissed, his voice shaking with emotion. "Many weeks without knowing if she was alive or dead. If you think for one second that I’m not going in there—"

"Azriel," Eris cut in, his voice calm but firm. "Let him speak. For her sake, not yours."

Lucien’s gaze softened slightly, and he lowered his hand. "She’s been through hell," he said quietly. "She’s scared, she’s hurt, and she’s weak. The healer’s doing everything she can, but... just don’t expect her to run into your arms the moment she sees you."

Azriel’s throat worked, and for a moment, he looked like he might crumble. But he nodded, swallowing hard. "Move," he said again, though this time his voice was softer, less edged.

Lucien stepped aside, and Azriel immediately reached for the door handle. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Eris and Lucien stayed behind, neither speaking as the door closed softly behind him.

Azriel stepped into the room, his heart pounding so violently it echoed in his ears. The space was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a lantern on the bedside table. The healer, a middle-aged woman with soft features and a calm, steady demeanour, glanced up as he entered but said nothing, her hands moving carefully over the small figure lying on the bed.

Kaia.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on her. His daughter looked so small, so fragile, cradled in the mound of blankets. Her usually vibrant skin was pale, almost translucent, and her dark lashes rested against cheeks stained with tear tracks. Her tiny wings, his pride and joy, were bandaged and bound tightly against her back. Even through the layers of gauze, he could see faint traces of blood seeping through, and his stomach churned violently.

Kaia's little body barely stirred as the healer adjusted her position, whispering soft reassurances. The sight of her there, so still, so unlike the lively, curious child he knew, nearly brought him to his knees. He had imagined this moment—finding her—so many times over the past two weeks, but nothing had prepared him for this.

"She’s stable for now," the healer said softly, her voice breaking through his haze. "But weak. She’s been through more than any child should ever endure."

Azriel nodded mutely, his throat too tight to form words. He stepped closer, his footsteps almost silent, and sank into the chair beside the bed. He reached out with a trembling hand, hesitating for a moment before gently brushing his fingers over her tiny hand. Her skin was cold to the touch, and his heart fractured further.

"Kaia," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His thumb ran softly over her knuckles. "I’m here, sweetheart. Daddy’s here."

Her eyelids fluttered faintly, and for a moment, he thought she might wake. But she only whimpered softly in her sleep, her little face scrunching in pain before settling again.

Azriel inhaled sharply, his free hand curling into a fist on his thigh. He couldn’t protect her from this, couldn’t take the pain away. And that knowledge gutted him. For the first time in centuries, he felt powerless.

"She’s been sedated to help with the pain," the healer explained quietly, her voice gentle but firm. "She needs rest above all else now. Physically, she has a small chance of recovery. But emotionally... she’ll need you. Both of you."

Azriel nodded again, his jaw tightening. "I failed her," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I should’ve found her sooner. I should’ve—"

"Stop," the healer interrupted, her tone surprisingly stern. "Blaming yourself won’t help her now. Focus on what you can do moving forward. She needs you strong, not consumed by guilt."

Azriel swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. He leaned over the bed, pressing a soft kiss to Kaia’s forehead, his shadows curling protectively around her tiny form. "I’m so sorry, baby," he murmured. "But I swear, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again."

For the first time in weeks, Azriel let his tears fall freely, his shoulders shaking as he kept his head bowed over his daughter. He would stay by her side now, no matter what it took. No matter how broken he felt, she would never feel alone.

Azriel sat there for what felt like hours, his hand never leaving Kaia’s. The room was silent, save for the occasional sound of the healer preparing fresh salves and the soft, shallow breaths of his daughter. His shadows crept out, brushing lightly over her form as if they, too, were trying to comfort her in their own way. They whispered to him, a thousand sounds he couldn’t quite make out, but their presence was grounding.

The door creaked open behind him, and Azriel tensed instinctively, his wings flaring slightly. When he glanced back, his shoulders relaxed only a fraction. Rhysand stood in the doorway, his face as pale and drawn as Azriel had ever seen it. Behind him, you hovered, your hands clutching the doorframe as if it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Azriel’s heart clenched at the sight of you. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face tear-streaked, and you looked like a ghost of yourself. You locked eyes with him, and in an instant, everything came crashing down. You pushed past Rhys, crossing the room in hurried steps until you stood at Kaia’s bedside.

“Kaia,” you choked out, your voice trembling. Your hands hovered over her as though afraid touching her would break her further. Azriel reached out, gently guiding your hand to rest on her arm. She didn’t stir, but the warmth of her skin under your palm seemed to ease some of the tension in your body.

"She’s alive," Azriel said softly, his voice hoarse. "She’s alive, Y/N."

A sob tore from your throat as you leaned over, pressing your forehead to her tiny hand. "My baby," you whispered, your voice cracking. "My sweet girl."

Rhys stepped fully into the room, his violet eyes taking in the scene before him. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed, his usual composure shattered. He reached out, brushing a hand over Kaia’s bandaged wings, his jaw tightening as he took in the blood-stained gauze.

"This should have never happened," Rhys said quietly, his voice filled with guilt. "I failed her. I failed you both."

Azriel looked up at his brother-in-law, his expression hard. "Don’t," he said, his tone sharp. "This isn’t on you, Rhys. It’s on me. I’m her father. I should’ve been faster. Smarter. I—"

"Enough," you cut in, your voice trembling but firm. You lifted your tear-streaked face, looking between the two men. "This isn’t the time to point fingers or wallow in guilt. Kaia is here now. She needs us to be strong for her, not broken."

Azriel nodded, his throat tightening. He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as you both sat by Kaia’s side. Rhys lingered for a moment longer, his gaze heavy, before stepping back toward the door.

"I’ll let the others know she’s safe," Rhys said quietly. "They’ll want to see her, but... later." He glanced at Azriel, his expression softening. "Take care of her. Take care of both of them."

Azriel gave a faint nod, his focus returning to his daughter and the mate he swore to protect. For the first time in weeks, hope flickered in his chest. It was fragile, tentative, but it was there. And as he held your hand tightly in his own, he vowed to do everything in his power to make sure his family healed—together.

-----

It had been two weeks since Eris and Lucien had found Kaia, and you and Azriel hadn’t left the Autumn Court since. Moving her back to Velaris was out of the question; her condition was too fragile, and the healers insisted she remain where she could be closely monitored. The forest house had been converted into a sanctuary of sorts for your little family, though it hardly felt like one with the constant weight of worry hanging over you.

Kaia was still weak, her small body fighting to recover from the injuries she’d endured. Her wings remained heavily bandaged, the cuts along their stems slow to heal, and she was often too tired to do more than whimper softly when you or Azriel were near. The sight of her like this broke something in you every time you looked at her. Your vibrant, mischievous toddler, who had once chased butterflies and giggled endlessly, now lay quietly on her bed, her golden-brown eyes dull and filled with exhaustion.

Azriel rarely left her side. He sat by her bed for hours, his shadows constantly swirling around her, as though trying to offer her some semblance of comfort. He barely slept, and when he did, it was in the chair by her bedside, his hand always resting lightly on hers. His face was gaunt, his hazel eyes rimmed with dark circles, and his shoulders seemed perpetually hunched under the weight of his guilt.

You weren’t much better. The two of you hadn’t spoken about what had happened—not really. The shared grief and fear seemed to have built a wall between you, one neither of you dared to break through. You spent most of your time tending to Kaia, whispering soft lullabies to her as you held one of her favourite teddies, the same one you’d clung to in those harrowing weeks she was missing.

The healers came and went in quiet intervals, bringing fresh salves and herbs to aid her recovery. One of them had told you just the day before that her wings might never fully recover, and while they assured you she might possibly be able to live a full life, the thought of your baby losing even a fraction of her joy was unbearable.

Eris had been surprisingly accommodating. He ensured you had everything you needed, from food and clothing to extra security around the forest house. Lucien visited frequently, bringing small gifts for Kaia—soft blankets, delicate wooden toys, and once, a tiny music box that played a soothing tune. The gestures were kind, but they couldn’t erase the ache in your chest.

This morning, as the first light filtered through the tall windows of the room Kaia was staying in, you sat on the edge of her bed, gently stroking her hair. She was asleep, her breathing shallow but steady. Azriel stood by the window, his back to you, his wings tucked in tight as he stared out at the forest beyond. The tension in his frame was palpable, and you knew he was battling his own demons in silence.

“She looks better,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears—hoarse and quiet, as though it had forgotten how to speak.

Azriel didn’t turn to you, but his wings twitched slightly. “Not enough,” he muttered, his voice low and rough.

You didn’t have the energy to argue, though the words stung. Instead, you turned back to Kaia, your hand lingering on her small shoulder as you whispered, “She’s strong, Az. Stronger than we think.”

At that, he turned, his gaze locking on yours. There was something haunted in his eyes, something that mirrored the ache you felt in your own chest. “She shouldn’t have had to be strong,” he said, his voice breaking. “She’s just a baby.”

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. Instead, you reached out, taking his hand and pulling him to sit beside you on the bed.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the wind against the tall windows and the rhythmic sound of Kaia’s shallow breathing. You and Azriel sat side by side on the edge of the bed, your fingers absentmindedly stroking Kaia’s tiny hand as she slept. The silence between you had stretched thin, heavy with tension, and you knew it was only a matter of time before something cracked.

“Az,” you began softly, your voice hesitant. He didn’t look at you, his focus fixed on Kaia’s frail form. “You should go back to work.”

The words hung in the air like a bomb. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then Azriel’s head snapped toward you, his hazel eyes sharp and blazing with disbelief.

“What?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding but your resolve firm. “You’ve been here for two weeks, Az. I know you’re worried about her, but Kaia is safe now. The healers are doing everything they can, and I’m here with her. You have responsibilities—things that need your attention.”

His wings flared slightly, the shadows around him stirring like a storm ready to unleash. “Responsibilities?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “What are you even saying right now?”

“I’m saying you can’t just abandon everything else,” you said, keeping your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “The Night Court still needs you. Rhys needs you. We’ll be fine.”

Azriel shot up from the bed, his tall frame towering over you as he paced to the window. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and when he turned back to you, his expression was a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“‘We’ll be fine?’” he echoed, his voice rising slightly. “Do you even hear yourself? Our daughter nearly died! She’s lying there, barely able to move, her wings—” His voice broke, and he shook his head, his hands trembling. “And you’re telling me to leave her? To leave you?”

You stood, anger bubbling up despite the guilt gnawing at your heart. “I’m not telling you to abandon her, Azriel! I’m telling you to trust that she’s safe now. I’m telling you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” he snapped, his voice bitter. “How can you say that when you’re the one telling me to leave? What kind of mother—what kind of mate—says something like that?”

The words hit you like a slap, and your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t you dare,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare try to make me feel like I don’t care about her. I love her just as much as you do, Azriel, but I’m trying to be realistic. We can’t both sit here and hover over her forever. She needs us to be strong—for her, for each other.”

Azriel’s wings flared fully now, his shadows lashing out in frustration. “Strong?” he hissed. “You call this strong? You’re cold-hearted, that’s what you are. Telling me to go back to work while our daughter is lying there, recovering from the worst trauma of her life. How could you even think of sending me away? Do you not care about what I’m feeling? Do you not care about her?”

Your heart shattered at his words, tears springing to your eyes. “How dare you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “How dare you accuse me of not caring. Everything I’ve done—everything I’ve said—has been for her. For us.”

“Then act like it!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “Act like you actually give a damn about what’s happening here instead of trying to shove me back into work like none of this matters!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you clenched your fists, your chest heaving as you struggled to find the words. “You’re not the only one who’s hurting, Azriel,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, who feels guilty, who wakes up every night wondering what you could’ve done differently. But you don’t get to stand there and call me heartless. You don’t get to throw that at me.”

The room was silent, the weight of your words hanging between you. Azriel stared at you, his expression shifting from anger to something softer, something broken. But you couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. You turned back to Kaia, sitting on the edge of her bed and gripping her tiny hand as though it were the only thing tethering you to this world.

Azriel remained by the window, his wings drooping slightly as the shadows around him stilled.

You stayed seated at the edge of Kaia’s bed, your hand gripping hers so tightly you worried you might hurt her, but you couldn’t let go. The silence in the room felt unbearable, the tension coiling tighter with every breath. Azriel stood by the window, his back to you, his wings sagging slightly as though the weight of everything had finally settled onto his shoulders.

“I’ve hit it,” you whispered, your voice trembling but loud enough to cut through the heavy air.

Azriel’s head turned slightly, but he didn’t look at you fully, his shadows curling around his feet as if trying to comfort him.

“I never thought I’d feel this way,” you continued, your voice cracking as tears burned your throat. “I never thought I’d hit rock bottom like this. That I’d feel so—so empty. So... hollow.”

Azriel turned then, his hazel eyes meeting yours, the anger from before replaced by something softer, something achingly vulnerable. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Don’t do this.”

You let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks as you shook your head. “Do what, Azriel? Speak the truth? Admit that I’ve lost everything I thought I had? I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I don’t even recognize us anymore.”

His wings flared slightly, his shadows stirring as he stepped closer. “We’re still us,” he said, his voice desperate, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “We’ve been through worse—we can get through this.”

You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “It doesn’t feel that way,” you said softly. “Do you know what it feels like, Azriel? To look at your mate and feel like they’re just... ordinary? Just another person in the room? Not the one you’re supposed to lean on, to trust with everything, to feel whole with.”

His breath hitched, and you saw the pain flash across his face, the way his wings drooped even further. “You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice breaking. “You can’t mean that.”

You let out a choked sob, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know what I mean anymore,” you admitted, your voice muffled. “I don’t know anything anymore. All I know is that Kaia is lying there, barely holding on, and I feel like I’ve failed her. I feel like I’ve failed myself. And now... now I feel like I’ve failed us too.”

Azriel dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his voice thick with emotion as he said, “You haven’t failed, Y/N. You’re still here. You’re still fighting—for her, for me, for us. You haven’t failed.”

You shook your head, the tears streaming down your cheeks relentless. “It doesn’t feel like it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It doesn’t feel like I’m fighting anymore. It just feels like I’m surviving.”

Azriel closed his eyes, his forehead pressing against yours as his wings curled around the two of you, creating a cocoon of warmth and shadow. “Then let me fight for you,” he said, his voice raw. “Let me fight for us. I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N. Whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us.”

You sat there, your fingers trembling as they rested on Kaia's blanket, your voice shaky as you looked at Azriel. His wings drooped behind him, his hazel eyes fixed on you with so much guilt and pain that it was hard to meet his gaze. But you spoke anyway, your voice quieter than you intended.

"When I was little," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "my mother used to sew dresses for Rhys’s future wife. She’d work tirelessly, stitching and cutting, always saying that his mate deserved nothing but the best."

Azriel’s brow furrowed, and he shifted closer, his shadows coiling tighter around his frame, but he stayed silent, letting you continue. "I used to sit beside her, watching her hands work, so delicate, so sure," you said, your throat tightening with the weight of the memory. "And one day, I asked her, ‘Are you going to make dresses for my future mate?’ I was just a child, so naive, but I was so curious."

Azriel swallowed hard, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something, but the words seemed caught in his throat.

"She laughed," you said, tears welling in your eyes as you stared at the floor. "She laughed and said, ‘Oh, sweetheart, your future love of your life is already wearing my clothes.’"

The room fell into silence, heavy and suffocating, and you felt the tears streaming down your cheeks. You finally looked at Azriel, meeting his stunned gaze.

"She thought it was you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "She thought it would always be you. And for so long, I thought so too. But now... now I’m not so sure. Now I feel like she was wrong."

Azriel flinched, as if your words had physically struck him. His wings curled inward slightly, and his hands clenched at his sides.

"Don’t say that," he said, his voice hoarse, raw with desperation. "Please, Y/N. Don’t say that."

Your shoulders shook as you let out a bitter laugh, the tears falling freely. "I don’t want to feel this way, Azriel. I don’t. But look at us. Look at what we’ve become. I don’t even know who I am anymore, and I don’t know who you are either."

He reached for you then, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were glassy, his voice breaking as he said, "I’m still me, Y/N. I’m still yours. Please, just... tell me how to fix this."

You shook your head, your voice barely audible as you whispered, "I don’t know if you can."

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, his shadows flickering wildly around him. "I won’t accept that," he said, his voice fierce despite the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "I won’t accept losing you. Not you, not Kaia. I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N. Whatever it takes to make you believe in us again."

You pulled away from Azriel’s trembling hands, stepping back as your heart clenched painfully in your chest. His wings twitched, his shadows writhing around him as if mirroring his turmoil.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and desperate, but you shook your head, tears blurring your vision.

"I can’t do this right now," you whispered, your voice breaking as you turned toward the door. "I need space, Azriel. I need to breathe."

He stepped toward you, panic etched into every line of his face. "Don’t walk away from me," he pleaded. "Not like this. Please, Y/N, we can—"

But you didn’t let him finish. You took one last look at him, his expression shattered, his wings slightly drooping, before you winnowed away without another word.

"Y/N!" he shouted after you, his voice filled with anguish, but by the time the sound of his plea echoed through the room, you were already gone.

-----

The River House was quieter than usual when you winnowed into the foyer, the cool stillness only broken by the faint sound of papers rustling in the nearby study. Rhys and Cassian were walking out, deep in conversation, when they spotted you standing there.

"Y/N?" Cassian asked, surprise etched on his face. "What are you doing here? We were just about to—"

His words faltered as he saw your tear-streaked face, your shoulders trembling as you hugged yourself tightly. Rhys stepped forward, his face paling.

"What happened?" Rhys demanded, his voice low and urgent. "Is it Kaia? Is she—?"

"No!" you cut him off quickly, shaking your head vehemently. "She's... she's fine." Your voice cracked, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over as you tried to steady your breathing.

Cassian let out a sharp exhale, relief flashing in his eyes, but the worry didn’t leave his expression. He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Then what is it? Why are you here? Did something happen at the Autumn Court?"

You tried to answer, tried to form the words, but the weight of everything—the past weeks, Azriel’s words, your own breaking heart—came crashing down. A choked sob escaped your throat as you covered your face with your hands.

Rhys closed the distance between you, his hands gently gripping your shoulders. "Y/N, talk to me," he urged softly. "What’s going on?"

But all you could do was cry, the anguish too overwhelming to explain. Rhys glanced over his shoulder at Cassian, whose jaw was tight as he watched you crumble. "Let’s get her to the sitting room," Rhys said quietly.

Cassian nodded, stepping aside as Rhys guided you gently toward the room, his concern written in every line of his face. Neither of them pushed you to speak again, giving you the time to collect yourself as they exchanged uneasy glances, silently wondering what had happened to leave you in such a state.

In the sitting room, Rhys guided you to the couch, his touch steady and gentle as you sank down, curling into yourself. Cassian sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his face a mask of worry.

"Y/N," Rhys began softly, sitting beside you. "Please tell us what happened. If it’s not Kaia, then... what’s wrong?"

Your voice broke as you tried to speak. "I—I can’t do it anymore," you whispered, staring down at your trembling hands. "I can’t stay there with him. I can’t pretend like everything is fine."

Rhys stiffened slightly. "With Azriel?" he asked carefully, his tone measured, though concern laced his words.

Cassian sat up straighter, his brows knitting together. "Did he—"

"He didn’t hurt me," you interrupted, shaking your head. "Not physically. But his words..." You trailed off, another sob escaping your lips as the weight of Azriel’s accusations hit you again. "He said I was heartless. Cold. That I didn’t care about Kaia, about him."

Rhys’ eyes darkened, his posture stiffening. "What?"

Cassian looked furious, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to keep his composure. "Azriel said that? To you?"

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you buried your head in your hands. "I told him he should go back to work, to get some air, and he just... he lost it. He called me heartless for even suggesting it."

Rhys rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly, his violet eyes filled with a mixture of anger and helplessness. "He’s been on edge for weeks," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

"That’s no excuse," Cassian snapped, his voice low but seething. "He has no right to talk to her like that, especially after everything she’s been through."

You sniffled, looking up at them through blurry eyes. "It’s more than that," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I... I told him I felt like I’d hit rock bottom, like I wasn’t even his mate anymore. And he didn’t..."

Cassian cursed under his breath, standing abruptly and pacing the room. Rhys sat in silence for a moment, his jaw tight as he tried to piece together his thoughts.

"Y/N," Rhys said gently, his hand resting on your knee, "you’re not alone in this. We’re going to figure it out. Azriel is... he’s struggling, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He’s just—"

"He’s not the male I fell in love with," you interrupted, your voice cracking. "And I don’t know if he ever will be again."

The room fell into a heavy silence, your words lingering like a dark cloud. Cassian finally stopped pacing, his expression softening as he looked at you. "You’re exhausted," he said quietly. "You’ve been through too much. Maybe staying here for a while... away from him... is what you need."

Rhys nodded, though his face was tight with emotion. "You’re welcome here for as long as you need, Y/N. And when you’re ready to face Azriel, we’ll be here for that too."

You nodded weakly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. "Thank you," you whispered, though the ache in your chest remained, a reminder of the fracture that now lay between you and your mate.

Cassian leaned back against the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest as he glanced between you and Rhys. His hazel eyes softened as they settled on you, still curled up on the couch, your eyes red and swollen. Letting out a deep breath, he broke the tense silence.

"Rhys," Cassian began, his tone firm but not unkind, "I’ll take Nyx to see Kaia."

Rhys blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "Cass—"

"No arguments," Cassian cut him off, holding up a hand. "You need to stay here with Y/N. She needs you more than Azriel needs another body standing around in the Autumn Court." He glanced at you again, his expression softening further. "You’ve both been running on fumes, but Rhys... you can’t just leave her right now."

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his violet eyes conflicted as he looked at you. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, glancing back at Cassian.

"Positive," Cassian replied firmly. "I’ve already been back and forth. Nyx will be happy to see Kaia, and I’ll make sure everything is handled. You stay here. Focus on your sister."

You looked up, your voice weak but filled with gratitude. "Cassian..."

He waved you off, his lips quirking into a small, reassuring smile. "Don’t even start. You know I’d do anything for Kaia—and for you. Az and I may want to strangle each other half the time, but he’s still my brother. We’ll keep this together."

Rhys hesitated a moment longer before nodding, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Alright," he finally said. "Take Nyx. And... thank you, Cass."

Cassian clapped Rhys on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring nod before stepping closer to you. He crouched down, resting a hand on your knee. "You focus on yourself, alright? Kaia is safe, and I’ll make sure she knows how much her mama and dada love her."

Tears welled in your eyes again as you nodded, your voice breaking as you whispered, "Thank you, Cassie."

He gave you a warm, lopsided grin before straightening. "Get some rest," he said firmly, looking between you and Rhys. "Both of you."

As he left the room, you and Rhys sat in silence, the weight of everything hanging heavily in the air. But for the first time in weeks, there was a faint glimmer of hope.

You shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as Cassian’s footsteps faded from the room. Turning to Rhys, you wiped at your tear-streaked face, your voice hoarse as you asked, "Where’s Feyre?"

Rhys looked over at you, the question catching him slightly off guard. He leaned back against the armrest of his chair, his violet eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. "She’s upstairs with Nyx," he replied softly. "She’s been keeping him distracted... keeping herself distracted."

You nodded, the mention of Feyre grounding you slightly. "I—I’d like to see her," you murmured, your voice wavering but determined. "I just need... I need to talk to her."

Rhys tilted his head, studying you for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he hesitated. Instead, he simply nodded. "Of course," he said gently, rising to his feet. "I’ll let her know you’re here."

Before he could leave the room, you grabbed his wrist, your grip weak but desperate. "Rhys," you said, your voice trembling. "Thank you... for staying."

His gaze softened, and he placed a hand over yours. "Always, sister," he said quietly. "You’re not alone in this."

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before heading toward the staircase, leaving you alone with the quiet crackle of the fire and the faint sound of the city beyond the windows. You tried to steel yourself, but the weight of everything pressed heavily on your chest.

Moments later, soft footsteps approached, and Feyre appeared in the doorway, her expression a mixture of worry and relief as she saw you. She crossed the room quickly, sitting beside you on the couch and wrapping you in a tight embrace.

"You’re here," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Feyre held you tightly, her warmth and steady presence grounding you as sobs racked your body. She didn’t say anything at first, letting you cry against her shoulder, her hand gently stroking your hair. It wasn’t until your breathing began to slow that she finally spoke.

"I was about to come see you," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "But... I’m glad you’re here."

You pulled back slightly, wiping at your swollen eyes. "I couldn’t stay in Autumn anymore," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I feel like I’m suffocating, Feyre. Azriel... he’s so angry and distant, and I—" Your voice faltered, tears spilling over again.

Feyre cupped your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. "You’ve been through hell," she said firmly. "Both of you have. It’s not fair for either of you to carry this weight alone."

You nodded weakly, but the tears wouldn’t stop. "I told him to go back to work," you choked out, your voice trembling. "I thought... I thought it might help him focus on something other than the guilt, but he... he called me heartless, Feyre. He said I was cold."

Feyre’s jaw tightened, and you could see the fury flash in her eyes, though she kept her tone even. "Azriel is lashing out because he’s hurting," she said softly. "But that doesn’t make it okay. You’re hurting, too."

"I feel like I’ve lost him," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "After everything we’ve been through... I feel like he doesn’t even see me anymore. Like I’m just... there."

Feyre’s arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close. "That’s not true," she said firmly. "Azriel loves you more than anything. He’s just drowning in his own pain right now, and he doesn’t know how to reach out. But you two will find your way back to each other. I know it."

The conviction in her voice made your chest ache, but you weren’t sure if you believed her. You stayed like that for a while, Feyre holding you as the fire crackled softly beside you.

Eventually, Rhys entered the room, his presence calm but heavy. "I sent Cassian off with Nyx now," he said quietly, glancing between the two of you. "They’ll be at the Autumn Court by nightfall."

You nodded, your hands clutching the blanket tightly around you. Rhys’s gaze softened as he looked at you. "You should rest," he said gently. "You’ve been running on empty for weeks now."

Feyre squeezed your hand. "I’ll stay with you," she offered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into her side. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rhys lingered for a moment before giving a small nod and stepping back, leaving you and Feyre in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

-----

Cassian landed heavily outside the Autumn Court’s forest house, Nyx held tightly against his chest as he adjusted his grip on the boy. The moment his boots hit the ground, he could already sense Azriel inside.

Kaia was here. Healing. Recovering. And Azriel hadn’t left her side.

But Cassian hadn’t come for Azriel. Not really.

The guards at the door let them through immediately, and Cassian pushed inside, the warmth of the fire doing little to thaw the ice settling in his veins. Nyx wiggled in his arms, eager to be let down, but Cassian held him close, rubbing a hand along his back to keep him calm.

It was Azriel who came into view first. He looked rough—exhausted, shoulders tense, his eyes shadowed even more than usual. The moment his gaze locked onto Cassian, the Spymaster straightened, as if preparing for whatever storm Cassian was bringing with him.

Cassian had half a mind to rip into him right then and there.

For what he said to you.

For letting you leave like that.

For making you feel like you were alone in this.

But Nyx stirred in his arms about being to old to be held, and Cassian swallowed the anger, pushing past Azriel without a word.

Lucien was standing just outside the bedroom where Kaia was resting. He gave Cassian a nod before stepping aside, letting him through.

Cassian exhaled slowly before opening the door, stepping into the dimly lit room.

Kaia was curled up beneath thick blankets, a healer sitting nearby, quietly monitoring her condition. Her tiny wings were wrapped in soft bandages, her face turned toward the pillows.

"Kaia," Nyx whispered.

The little girl stirred slightly, blinking up at them with sleepy eyes. Her lips wobbled, and for a moment, Cassian thought she might cry.

But then Nyx wiggled out of his grip, stumbling toward the bed, and Kaia’s little fingers reached for him immediately.

Nyx climbed up beside her carefully, curling into her side, one of his hands resting against her bandaged wing as if he could protect her from whatever had hurt her.

Cassian exhaled, his chest tight. He turned, stepping back toward the door where Azriel still stood, watching from the shadows.

Cassian met his brother’s gaze, the anger from earlier flaring up once again.

Azriel could feel it. He knew exactly how pissed Cassian was at him.

And he didn’t even try to defend himself.

Cassian clenched his jaw before looking back at the bed.

Kaia was safe. That was what mattered.

But Azriel had a hell of a lot to answer for.

Azriel stood motionless in the doorway, shadows coiling at his feet as he watched Nyx curl around Kaia like she was the most precious thing in the world. His daughter—his baby—was alive. That should have been enough to ease some of the storm raging inside of him.

It wasn’t.

Not when he could feel Cassian’s burning stare from across the room. Not when he could still hear your voice in his head, raw and broken, telling him you’d finally hit rock bottom.

His fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw locked so tightly it ached. He hadn’t slept in days. Hadn’t thought about anything except keeping Kaia safe.

But you had left.

And now Cassian was here, standing in his home, barely holding himself back.

Azriel braced himself for the inevitable as Cassian finally turned away from the bed, stepping toward him. His brother’s wings flared slightly, his chest rising and falling with the effort of holding back whatever was brewing inside him.

“Outside,” Cassian said, his voice a low growl.

Azriel just stared at him.

“I said outside.”

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw, but he didn’t argue. Without a word, he turned and walked past Cassian, pushing the door open and stepping out into the cool, damp air of the Autumn woods.

Cassian followed, the door clicking shut behind them.

Azriel barely had a second before Cassian grabbed him by the collar of his leathers and shoved him back against the wooden exterior of the house.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian seethed.

Azriel didn’t fight back. He just stared, his hazel eyes cold, unreadable.

Cassian shoved him again. “She came back to Velaris in tears, Az. She left here broken. And you let her.”

“She told me to go,” Azriel said flatly. “So I let her do the same.”

Cassian let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you the truth? Tell you that you pushed your own mate away when she was barely holding on?”

Azriel clenched his jaw. He wanted to tell Cassian that it wasn’t that simple. That you had told him to go back to work like Kaia would just magically be fine without him. That you, who had fought for her just as fiercely as he had, were now acting like you could just—just move on.

But deep down, he knew that wasn’t what you meant.

And it hadn’t been what you needed to hear.

Cassian’s grip loosened slightly, but his expression remained furious. “She’s grieving, Az. And instead of holding her through it, you made her feel like she was the only one hurting.”

Azriel exhaled slowly through his nose. His shadows twisted around his boots, restless.

“She still loves you,” Cassian added, his voice quieter now. “But you need to fix this before she starts believing otherwise.”

Azriel swallowed, his throat tight. He had never doubted your love for him—not even for a second.

Cassian’s grip on Azriel’s collar tightened, his knuckles going white. His breath was hot with rage, his chest heaving as he stared Azriel down.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Cassian hissed. His wings flared, his entire body vibrating with barely restrained fury.

Azriel remained silent, his expression unreadable, but his shadows coiled tighter around him, reacting to the anger radiating off his brother.

Cassian let out a bitter, humourless laugh. “You think this is just about you? About your pride? Your pain?” His voice rose, his rage spilling over. “You have no idea what she’s feeling right now. No fucking idea.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously. “I lost her too.”

Cassian shoved him hard, slamming him back against the wooden wall. “Then why the fuck are you acting like you didn’t?!” he bellowed.

Azriel’s wings flared, his own anger finally sparking to life, but Cassian didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“She sat in her room for two fucking weeks, Az. Two weeks, holding onto that teddy like it was the only thing keeping her together, crying herself to sleep, and you weren’t there!” Cassian’s voice cracked, but he pushed through it. “You chose not to be there.”

Azriel’s breath was heavy, uneven.

Cassian shook his head, disgusted. “She begged me not to tell you how bad it was. Because she still—still wanted to protect you. And you—you stood here, let her walk away, and fucking watched as she shattered.”

Azriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His shadows were writhing now, slithering across his boots, up his arms, reacting to the storm inside him.

“I’ve seen her broken before,” Cassian growled, voice low and raw. “But never like this. Not even after she lost her wings.”

Azriel’s entire body locked up. A deep, old pain flickered behind his eyes, but Cassian wasn’t done.

“She needed you. And you made her feel like she had no one.”

Azriel’s chest rose and fell, fast and uneven. His shadows had gone completely still.

Cassian released him with a sharp shove, stepping back. His voice was thick with fury and disappointment. “You need to fix this, Az.”

Azriel swallowed, his throat tight, his hands still clenched into fists.

Cassian exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Then, with one last glare, he turned and walked back inside, leaving Azriel alone in the cold, with nothing but his shadows and the weight of his mistakes.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as he stepped back into the dimly lit room where Kaia and Nyx were. His anger still simmered beneath his skin, but he forced himself to push it down, to focus on what mattered—on them.

The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls, casting long shadows over the room. Kaia lay curled up on the plush bed, wrapped in thick blankets, her tiny form barely visible beneath them. Her wings—still bandaged, still healing—rested limply against the mattress.

Nyx sat beside her, his small hand gently stroking her hair as he whispered something Cassian couldn’t hear. His expression was heartbreakingly solemn, far too serious for a child his age.

Cassian sighed and walked over, his heavy boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. Nyx looked up as he approached, his eyes wide with concern. “Uncle Cass?” he asked quietly. “Is everything okay?”

Cassian hesitated. No. Nothing is okay. But he couldn’t say that. Not to Nyx.

So instead, he forced a small, tired smile. “Yeah, kid. Just had to talk to your uncle Az.” His voice was rough, thick with lingering frustration.

Nyx studied him for a moment before nodding. He turned his attention back to Kaia, his fingers still brushing through her dark curls. “She was whimpering in her sleep,” he murmured. “I think she’s hurting.”

Cassian’s heart clenched. He carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his large hand resting near Kaia’s tiny fingers. Her breathing was soft, but uneven. Even in sleep, she looked fragile.

“Hey, sunshine,” Cassian whispered, leaning in slightly. “Uncle Cassie is here.”

Kaia stirred at his voice, her little brow furrowing. She let out a quiet whimper before shifting, her tiny fingers reaching blindly in her sleep. Without thinking, Cassian slid his hand into hers.

Her fingers curled weakly around his.

Cassian swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Nyx looked up at him again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is Auntie Y/N coming soon?”

Cassian’s chest ached at the question. He knew Nyx had been missing his aunt, and Rhys had been trying to keep him distracted, but it wasn’t the same.

“She’ll come soon,” Cassian promised, though he wasn’t sure if that was true. He had no idea what was happening back at the River House. No idea if Azriel had finally pulled his head out of his ass and gone after his mate.

Kaia stirred again, her grip on his fingers tightening. Cassian instinctively reached out with his other hand, brushing her hair back gently.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”

She let out a small sigh, shifting a little closer to Nyx, her breathing evening out once more.

Cassian glanced at Nyx, whose eyes were still on Kaia, filled with the same fierce protectiveness his father had.

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Nyx asked, voice small.

Cassian hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah, kid. She’s tough.”

Like her mother.

Like her father—if Azriel ever got his shit together.

Nyx nodded solemnly before snuggling closer to Kaia, his own little hand resting over hers.

Cassian let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly, but he didn’t let go of Kaia’s hand. Not yet.

Because as much as he wanted to believe his own words, he wasn’t sure any of them would ever be okay again.

Eris strode into the room with his usual effortless grace, though there was an edge to his movements—a sharpness that hadn’t dulled since the night he had carried Kaia, bleeding and limp, through the forests of the Autumn Court. His amber eyes flickered over the space, first landing on Nyx curled beside Kaia, then shifting to Cassian, who was still seated on the edge of the bed, Kaia’s tiny hand wrapped around his own.

Cassian barely acknowledged him, his jaw clenched tight, his attention still on the sleeping girl.

Eris exhaled sharply, crossing his arms as he glanced around again. “Where are her parents?” His tone was even, but there was something pointed in it, something layered beneath the words.

Cassian lifted his gaze then, his expression unreadable. “Y/N’s at the River House,” he said gruffly. “Azriel—” He let out a humorless huff. “—he’s probably still brooding somewhere. Who the hell knows.”

Eris scoffed. “Typical.” He took a few slow steps into the room, his sharp eyes sweeping over Kaia once more. “I expected at least one of them to be here.”

Cassian’s grip tightened around Kaia’s little fingers, but he kept his voice steady. “Y/N just got back last night. She needed time.”

Eris hummed, but his gaze didn’t leave Kaia. “And Azriel?”

Cassian’s nostrils flared. He knew exactly what Eris was doing—pushing, needling, waiting to see if his words would strike a nerve, Nesta told him when she got back from Day that you and Eris used to be a thing so if this was the point Eris was trying to prove...

“He’ll show up,” Cassian muttered, though even he wasn’t sure if that was true.

Eris arched a brow. “Will he?”

Cassian shot him a warning look.

Eris merely lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just find it interesting,” he said, voice almost casual. “That the moment his daughter is found—alive, though barely—he suddenly disappears.”

Cassian’s fists clenched, but before he could snap back, Nyx spoke.

“Uncle Az is coming,” he said quietly, his small voice firm despite the exhaustion lining it.

Cassian and Eris both looked at him, finding the young boy staring at Kaia, his little hand still resting protectively over hers.

Nyx looked up then, his violet eyes eerily serious. “He’ll come,” he repeated.

Eris let out a slow exhale before turning back to Cassian. “He better.” His voice was lower now, almost thoughtful. “Because if he doesn’t, I don’t think Y/N will ever forgive him.”

Cassian didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

Because deep down, they both knew Eris was right.

Eris lingered by the door for a moment before stepping fully into the room, his sharp amber gaze locked onto Kaia’s small form. His usual mask of indifference was thinner today, barely concealing the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of something dangerously close to concern in his expression.

He exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms as he tilted his head slightly. “How is she?” His voice was quieter than before, the usual sharpness dulled.

Cassian shifted in his spot, still holding Kaia’s tiny fingers in his much larger hand. He hadn’t let go since he’d arrived, and it didn’t look like he planned to anytime soon. His hazel eyes, weary and shadowed, flickered up to Eris before he glanced back down at the sleeping girl.

“She’s alive,” he said gruffly, his voice thick. “But she’s weak.”

Eris took another step closer, his keen gaze raking over her small frame. Her face was pale, exhaustion lining every delicate feature. Even in sleep, there was a tightness around her eyes, a subconscious flinch every time she shifted too much. The bandages along her back, where the healer had worked tirelessly to repair the deep wounds at the base of her wings, were fresh—evidence that her injuries were still healing.

Eris’s jaw tightened. He had seen the blood, had held her as it soaked into his clothes. The sight of her now, fragile and unmoving, made something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

“And the wings?” he asked after a moment.

Cassian’s fingers curled slightly around Kaia’s hand, his other clenching into a fist on his thigh. His voice was low when he answered. “We don’t know yet.”

Eris didn’t move, didn’t react outright, but Cassian saw the way his fingers flexed at his sides, the way his expression turned even graver.

Silence stretched between them before Eris finally spoke again. “And Y/N?”

Cassian let out a long, tired breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not great.” He didn’t elaborate, but Eris didn’t need him to.

He already knew.

-----

The River House was quiet. Too quiet.

You stood by the window in the sitting room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you stared out at the Sidra. The water was dark beneath the early evening sky, its surface rippling with the wind that had begun to pick up. Normally, you found solace in this view, in the steady, unchanging flow of the river. But today, it felt hollow.

The house was nearly empty—Rhys was somewhere, likely still pouring over paperwork, and Feyre had yet to return from wherever she had gone. Only the occasional crackle of the fireplace and the distant sound of someone moving upstairs broke the silence.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves. It had been hours since you winnowed away from Autumn, from Azriel. Hours since you’d stormed out, leaving him standing there. You had thought coming home would bring some kind of peace, that being here—away from everything—might help you breathe again.

But all you felt was emptiness.

Your eyes flickered to the small pile of Kaia’s things in the corner of the room. A few of her favourite books, a stuffed animal she’d left behind last time she was here. A blanket she used to curl up with on the couch. The sight of them made your throat close up.

She should be here. She should be running around, laughing, filling the house with her little voice. Instead, she was in Autumn, healing. And you weren’t there.

A lump formed in your throat, and you clenched your jaw, forcing down the sob threatening to rise.

You barely heard the footsteps approaching until a familiar presence settled nearby. Rhys didn’t say anything at first, just watched you, his violet eyes filled with something unreadable.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, voice quiet. “Y/N…”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

But Rhys wasn’t fooled. He stepped closer, his expression softening. “I know you don’t want to talk,” he said, “but I need you to.”

You swallowed hard, still staring out the window. “There’s nothing to say.”

Rhys exhaled. “That’s a lie.”

Silence.

Then, barely above a whisper, you said, “I don’t know what to do.”

It was the first honest thing you had admitted in days. Maybe weeks.

Rhys hesitated before moving forward, wrapping his arms around you. The moment his warmth enveloped you, the dam broke. A choked sob escaped before you could stop it, and you clung to him, your body shaking as you buried your face in his chest.

His arms tightened around you. “I know,” he murmured, pressing a hand to the back of your head. “I know.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself fall apart.

Your sobs wracked your body, the kind that stole the breath from your lungs, the kind that left you gasping. Rhys held you tightly, his hands steady against your back, but it did nothing to stop the storm raging inside of you.

“Why do I always fuck up?” you choked out against his chest, your voice barely audible, yet filled with a raw, gut-wrenching pain. “Why is it always me?”

Rhys flinched at your words, but he didn’t loosen his hold on you. If anything, he only held you tighter, as if he could somehow keep you from unravelling completely.

Your hands curled into the fabric of his tunic, clutching onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. “I should have known,” you whispered brokenly. “I should have done something—”

“Stop,” Rhys cut in, his voice firm but not unkind. “Y/N, you didn’t fail.”

You let out a bitter laugh against his chest. “Then why does it feel like I did?”

Rhys pulled back slightly, just enough to cup the sides of your face, forcing you to look at him. His violet eyes searched yours, filled with something raw, something unbreakable. “Because you love too much,” he said softly. “Because you love so fiercely that when something happens to the people you care about, you take it all onto yourself.”

Your vision blurred with tears. “But I was supposed to protect her.” Your voice cracked. “She’s my daughter, Rhys. And I wasn’t there.”

Rhys’ thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “And yet, she is still here. Still fighting.” His voice dropped to something even softer. “Because she has a mother who would burn the world down for her.”

A fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes, and your lip trembled. “I just…” You shook your head, your voice breaking entirely. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Rhys sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to fix it alone.” His voice was steady, grounding. “We will get through this. You and Azriel will get through this.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words settle, letting yourself breathe. But even as you clung to your brother, the weight in your chest remained, heavy and unyielding. Because deep down, you weren’t sure if you believed him.

You pulled away from Rhys, your hands slipping from his tunic as you took a shaky step back. The warmth of his embrace lingered, but it did nothing to soothe the hollow ache spreading through your chest.

He watched you carefully, his violet eyes scanning your face, waiting, bracing. He had seen you angry before, devastated before. But this… this was something else entirely.

Your throat was raw from crying, but your voice came out steady—too steady. “I don’t think there’s anything left to fix.”

Rhys blinked, his brows furrowing as if he hadn’t heard you right. “Y/N—”

“I mean it,” you cut in, shaking your head. “Azriel and I… We’re not the same anymore. And I don’t know if we ever will be.”

Rhys’ jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything, letting you continue.

“I’ve spent years believing in us. In our bond. No matter how bad things got, I always thought we’d make it through.” Your voice wavered, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “But now? Now I don’t even know who we are.”

Rhys exhaled slowly, his shoulders stiff. “You’re grieving, Y/N. Both of you are. You’ve been through hell, and—”

“I know what I’m saying,” you interrupted, your eyes burning with fresh tears. “I know how I feel.”

Rhys’ expression darkened slightly. “So, what? You’re just giving up?”

You let out a bitter laugh, void of humour. “I’m not giving up. I’m realizing that maybe, just maybe, some things aren’t meant to be saved.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Rhys stared at you for a long moment before running a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “Does Azriel know you feel this way?”

You swallowed, looking away. “I don’t think he cares.”

Rhys’ expression hardened. “That’s not true.”

You scoffed. “Isn’t it? He looks at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m the enemy.” Your voice broke, but you pushed through. “And I can’t keep fighting for something he doesn’t want to fight for.”

Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, you and Azriel have spent centuries building a life together. You’ve survived wars, loss, everything. Don’t let this be what breaks you.”

You shook your head, your vision blurring. “I think we were already broken.”

Rhys reached for you then, his hands settling on your arms, grounding you. “Just… don’t make any decisions right now,” he murmured. “Not while everything still hurts.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because deep down, you weren’t sure if this pain would ever go away.

Sobs tore from your throat, raw and unrelenting, the weight of everything crashing down all at once. Rhys lowered you both to the floor, his arms wrapping around you, anchoring you even as you shattered.

“I—” You tried to speak, but the words were swallowed by another choked sob. Your chest ached, your entire body trembling as you buried your face against Rhys’ shoulder. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Rhys. I—” Another sob ripped through you. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

His grip tightened, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing soothing circles against your back. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Just breathe, Y/N. Just breathe.”

But you couldn’t.

Every breath came out shaky, uneven, the grief clawing at your throat like it was trying to consume you whole. The weight of the past weeks—losing Kaia, the helplessness, the distance between you and Azriel—pressed down on you, suffocating.

Tears soaked through Rhys’ shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. He just held you, rocking you slightly, his own breathing uneven as if your pain was his, too.

Your fingers clutched at him, desperate for something, anything to keep you from falling apart completely. “I feel so empty, Rhys.” The admission came out in a broken whisper. “Like there’s nothing left of me.”

His arms tightened around you. “You’re still here. You’re still you.”

You let out a gasping sob, shaking your head. “I don’t feel like me.”

Rhys swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Then let me hold onto you until you do.”

And so he did.

Minutes passed—maybe hours—as you sobbed into your brother’s arms, the storm inside you refusing to settle. And still, Rhys held you, unwavering, refusing to let you drown.

-----

Azriel sat in the chair by Kaia’s bedside, his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He hadn’t moved in hours. Not since Cassian had stormed in, not since Nyx had curled up beside Kaia on the bed, keeping her company while she rested.

He barely even blinked.

The quiet of the room was suffocating. The only sounds were the soft breaths of the children and the distant crackle of a fire from the sitting room. But even that warmth couldn’t reach him.

Not when the only warmth he had ever known had left.

His shadows curled restlessly around him, mirroring the storm inside him. He knew where you were. Could feel the bond, muted and distant but still there. Still holding. But he didn’t know if you would come back. Didn’t know if he deserved for you to.

A sharp knock at the door made him tense, but he didn’t look up. Didn’t move.

“Az.”

Cassian.

Azriel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to unclench his jaw. “What.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Cassian sighed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He crossed the room in a few long strides, dragging a chair closer before sinking into it with a heavy thud. He didn’t speak right away, just sat there, watching Azriel with an expression Az couldn’t decipher.

Finally, Cassian leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “She’s at the River House.”

Azriel didn’t react, didn’t let the flicker of relief show on his face. But Cassian knew him too well.

“She’s a mess, Az,” Cassian continued, voice softer now. “Rhys had to carry her to bed. She hasn’t slept. She’s barely eaten. And—” He exhaled sharply. “She thinks it’s over.”

Azriel’s head snapped up at that. His eyes, rimmed with exhaustion, locked onto Cassian’s. “What?”

Cassian hesitated, but then, with brutal honesty, said, “She told Rhys she doesn’t think there’s anything left to fix.”

Azriel’s breath left him in a sharp exhale, his wings twitching, his body going rigid.

Cassian’s gaze softened, but his tone was firm. “You need to go to her, Az.”

Azriel shook his head, looking away. “She told me to go. To leave.”

“And you actually listened?” Cassian scoffed, shaking his head. “Since when do you give up that easily?”

Azriel’s fingers dug into his knees. “She said she’s hit rock bottom.” His voice cracked, and he hated himself for it. “She said she never thought she could look at me and feel nothing.”

Cassian’s expression darkened, but he didn’t look surprised. “Then prove her wrong.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. “She doesn’t want me there.”

Cassian huffed. “Maybe not right now. But she needs you, Az. And you need her.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Azriel’s eyes drifted back to Kaia, still fast asleep, her small frame curled up beneath the blankets. Her little hands clutched the stuffed dragon Nyx had given her.

His daughter. His mate. His entire world was slipping through his fingers.

And he was just sitting here, letting it happen.

Cassian stood, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re one of the most stubborn bastards I’ve ever met,” he said. “Use that. Go fight for her.”

Azriel didn’t move as Cassian left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

He just sat there, staring at his daughter, his mind spinning.

And then, finally, he stood.

Azriel winnowed straight into the River House, his boots landing silently on the polished wooden floors of the foyer. The moment he arrived, his shadows recoiled, sensing the heavy weight of sorrow clinging to the air. It was quieter than usual. No laughter, no chatter. Just the distant crackle of a fire somewhere deeper inside the house.

His heart pounded as he took a step forward, his wings tucking tightly against his back. The dim candlelight flickered against the dark walls, casting long shadows that danced with his own. He could feel you. Somewhere in this house, you were here. Broken. Hurting.

And he had caused it.

A figure moved in the doorway ahead, and Rhys appeared, leaning against the threshold of the sitting room, arms crossed over his chest. His violet eyes raked over Azriel, assessing, exhausted.

“You finally grew a pair,” Rhys muttered, pushing off the doorframe.

Azriel ignored the jab. His throat felt tight as he asked, “Where is she?”

Rhys exhaled through his nose, studying him for a moment before jerking his chin toward the staircase. “Upstairs. Her room.”

His room. Theirs.

Azriel swallowed hard, nodding once before moving past Rhys. But before he could reach the stairs, his brother’s voice stopped him.

“She hasn’t slept in days,” Rhys said quietly. “And she won’t talk about it, but I know she thinks this is the end.”

Azriel’s hands curled into fists.

Rhys hesitated, then added, “Fix it.”

Azriel didn’t respond, just started up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The house was eerily silent, and with each door he passed, the weight in his chest grew.

When he finally reached their room, he hesitated.

The door was slightly ajar, candlelight spilling into the hallway. He could hear your breathing—uneven, strained.

Guilt clawed at him.

Slowly, he pushed the door open.

And there you were.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to your chest, one of Kaia’s stuffed animals clutched in your arms. Your eyes were red-rimmed, face streaked with dried tears. You didn’t even look up when he entered, your gaze locked onto some invisible point on the floor.

Azriel felt like the air had been stolen from his lungs.

He had seen you strong. He had seen you furious. He had seen you in pain.

But this—this hollow, shattered version of you—he had never seen before.

And it terrified him.

He closed the door behind him, the soft click making you flinch.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Y/N.”

Your fingers curled tighter around the stuffed animal. Still, you didn’t look at him.

Azriel took a slow step forward, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, to fix this. He had always known how to mend broken things. Swords. Strategies. Wounds.

But this?

This was you. His mate. His love. And he had broken you.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He crossed the room in three steps, sinking onto his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as they reached for yours. You tensed at his touch, but you didn’t pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his forehead resting against the back of your hands. “I don’t know how to fix this, but I need you to tell me how.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond.

And then, in a voice so quiet he almost missed it, you said, “I don’t think you can.”

Azriel felt like he had been gutted.

Your words hung between you, heavier than anything he had ever carried. His wings drooped slightly, his fingers tightening around yours as if he could somehow anchor you to him, to this bond that now felt so fragile, so breakable.

“I don’t accept that,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I won’t accept that.”

You let out a hollow, humourless laugh, finally looking at him. Your eyes were dull, lifeless. “Then you’re a fool.”

Azriel flinched.

“I have nothing left, Azriel,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Nothing. I lost my mother. I lost my sister. I lost my wings. And now—” You sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head. “I almost lost our daughter. And you—” Your hands slipped from his grasp as you pulled away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You weren’t there. You shut me out. You let me break alone.”

Azriel’s throat felt raw, his shadows writhing around him in distress. “I didn’t know how to fix it,” he admitted. “How to make it better.”

“I didn’t need you to fix it!” Your voice was suddenly sharp, filled with something closer to anger now. “I needed you to be here! To sit with me in the fucking wreckage instead of running off like that would solve anything!”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings flexing slightly. “I thought—” He exhaled roughly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought if I just kept searching, if I just kept moving, then I wouldn’t have to face it.” His hands dropped into his lap, and he met your gaze, raw and open. “I was terrified, Y/N. I have never been more afraid in my entire life.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your eyes shining with fresh tears.

“I failed you,” Azriel said, barely above a whisper. “I failed our daughter. And I don’t know how to come back from that.”

Silence settled between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, you whispered, “I don’t know if we can.”

Azriel’s stomach twisted violently, panic clawing up his throat.

No.

He refused to believe that.

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please don’t say that.”

You looked away, your fingers gripping Kaia’s stuffed animal like it was the only thing keeping you together.

Azriel reached for you again, his hands cradling your face, forcing you to look at him. “I love you,” he murmured, desperate, his thumbs brushing over your damp cheeks. “I love you more than anything, and I will do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us.”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a second—just a second—he thought you might believe him.

But then your eyes filled with more tears, and you slowly pulled away.

“I don’t know if love is enough this time, Azriel.”

And those words shattered him completely.

Azriel stood frozen, your words echoing in his head like a death knell.

He had faced wars, endured centuries of pain, lived through the worst kind of suffering, but nothing—nothing—had ever felt like this. Like his very soul was being torn from him.

You turned away from him, your back shaking with barely restrained sobs. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You didn’t even have the energy to be angry. You were just…done.

Azriel took a step forward, but something in your posture made him hesitate. He had pushed you too far. He had let you break apart alone, and now, when he finally wanted to piece things back together, you weren’t sure if there was anything left to mend.

He swallowed, his voice rough. “Y/N…”

But you shook your head. “I can’t right now, Azriel.”

His wings drooped further, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to argue, to plead, to tell you that he would spend the rest of his life making this right. But you looked so exhausted, so broken, and he knew that pushing any further would only widen the distance between you.

So he stepped back.

“Okay,” he murmured, though it felt like the hardest thing he had ever said.

He turned toward the door, hesitating only for a second, hoping—praying—that you would call him back. That you would tell him to stay.

But you didn’t.

And so Azriel left, feeling more lost than he ever had before.

Azriel barely made it down the hall before he heard Rhysand’s footsteps behind him.

“You bastard,” Rhys bit out, his voice low but sharp.

Azriel exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself before turning. He didn’t get the chance. Rhys was already there, grabbing him by the front of his leathers, shoving him back against the nearest wall.

“I told you to fix it,” Rhys snarled. “Not to make it worse.”

Azriel didn’t resist, didn’t push back. He let Rhys hold him there, let him release the fury Azriel knew he deserved. He felt like a ghost of himself, hollow and lost, his own shadows recoiling from him.

“She doesn’t want to fix it,” Azriel muttered, voice rough. “She—” His throat closed up. He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “She doesn’t think there’s anything left to fix.”

Rhys’ grip tightened, his violet eyes burning with anger and something deeper—something almost desperate. “Then make her believe there is.”

Azriel clenched his jaw, looking away. “I don’t know how.”

Rhys let out a harsh breath and released him, stepping back. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “Az,” he said, quieter this time. “She’s drowning. And you—her mate, her husband—just walked away.”

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut.

“You fought for her once,” Rhys said. “Fought like hell for her. Are you really going to let it end like this?”

Azriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He had spent two weeks searching relentlessly for Kaia, had given everything he had left to finding their daughter. But somehow, in the process, he had lost you.

And now, standing here, feeling like the biggest failure in existence, he realized—he couldn’t let that happen.

He opened his eyes, meeting Rhysand’s gaze.

“I won’t,” Azriel said, voice filled with quiet, unyielding determination. “I won’t let it end like this.”

Rhysand held his gaze for a long moment, searching, assessing. Then he gave a sharp nod, stepping back fully.

“Good,” he said. But there was no relief in his voice. Only expectation. “Then fix it.”

Azriel inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His feet moved before his mind had fully caught up, carrying him down the familiar hall toward your shared room. The door was closed, and for a moment, he hesitated. He had no idea what he would find on the other side. No idea if you would even listen to him.

But he had to try.

Slowly, he pushed the door open.

The sight of you knocked the breath from his lungs.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your back to him, shoulders hunched. Your hands clutched one of Kaia’s teddies, holding it against your chest like a lifeline. Even from across the room, he could hear the quiet, broken sniffles.

Azriel swallowed hard, his heart clenching painfully.

He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. You didn’t react, didn’t even lift your head.

He took another step. And then another. Until he was standing just behind you.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “I know I’ve made everything worse. And I know I don’t deserve it, but—please. Look at me.”

Silence.

For a moment, he thought you wouldn’t.

But then, slowly, you turned.

And when your eyes finally met his, filled with so much pain, so much anger, so much exhaustion—Azriel felt like he might break apart entirely.

Azriel didn’t move, barely breathed as he took you in. The dark circles under your eyes, the redness in them from days—weeks—of crying. The way your lips trembled, like you wanted to say something, scream something, but didn’t have the strength to.

And then, in a voice so hoarse and tired it nearly destroyed him, you whispered, “Why are you here, Azriel?”

He opened his mouth, but for once in his life, he didn’t know what to say.

To apologize? To beg? To tell you he loved you, even if right now, you weren’t sure you could believe it?

“I—” he tried, but the words caught in his throat.

Your eyes flashed with something sharp, something broken.

“You left me,” you said, your voice shaking. “You let me sit in that room alone for weeks while our daughter fought for her life. You let me feel like I had to hold everything together while you buried yourself in your own grief.”

Azriel flinched. He wanted to argue, to say that he had been searching, that he had been doing everything he could to bring Kaia home, to keep himself from completely shattering.

But you weren’t wrong.

And he knew—knew—that the worst thing he could do right now was try to defend himself.

So he didn’t.

“I know,” he admitted instead, voice barely above a whisper. “I know, and I’m so damn sorry. I thought—I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping busy, trying to fix it. But I wasn’t fixing anything. I was just running.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “And now you decide to come back?”

Azriel’s throat tightened. “I should have come back sooner.”

Your jaw clenched, and when you looked away, Azriel felt something in his chest cave in.

“But I’m here now,” he continued, voice raw. “And I’ll stay. If you’ll let me.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, your voice so quiet it was nearly swallowed by the space between you, you asked, “What if I don’t know if I want you to?”

Azriel swallowed hard. He had never felt fear like this. Not in war, not in battle. This—this uncertainty, this possibility of losing you—it was worse than anything.

But he nodded. Because this wasn’t about him.

“I’ll wait,” he said, meaning every word. “As long as it takes.”

Your throat was tight, raw from the sobs that had wracked through you before Azriel arrived. You had told yourself—sworn to yourself—that you wouldn’t ask. That you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you still cared, that you still needed to hear it from him.

But the words slipped past your lips anyway, fragile and desperate.

“How is she?”

Azriel exhaled sharply, his wings shifting behind him. He looked exhausted—more than exhausted. He looked hollow. Like whatever had been keeping him upright was barely holding on.

“She’s…” He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how to answer. “She’s getting better.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “That’s not an answer, Azriel.”

His jaw tightened, but when he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “The healer says she’s improving, but it’s slow. She’s in pain. Her wings…” He broke off, shaking his head. “She won’t fly for a long time, if ever.”

The air left your lungs like you’d been struck.

If ever.

Your sweet, beautiful daughter—grounded.

A quiet, strangled sound left you, and Azriel took a step toward you, instinctively reaching out. You flinched back.

He froze.

You didn’t mean to do it. You knew he wasn’t the enemy, that he wasn’t the one who had hurt her. But the space between you felt like a canyon, one neither of you knew how to cross anymore.

“She asked for you,” he said softly. “Every minute.”

Tears welled in your eyes, burning hot as they slipped down your cheeks.

“I should have been there,” you whispered.

Azriel’s face twisted, like he wanted to argue but knew he had no right.

“She’ll be okay,” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely sure. “She’s strong, just like you.”

Your voice broke as you whispered, “I don’t feel strong.”

Azriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Like it physically pained him to hear you say that.

“She needs you,” he said after a moment. “And I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Come back with me.”

You looked away.

You didn’t know if you could.

The sob burst out of you before you could stop it—raw and jagged, ripped straight from your chest. Your hands trembled too much to grip it properly. The weight of everything, of Kaia’s pain, of Azriel’s voice, of the unbearable hollow ache inside you—it was too much.

A gasp tore from your throat, and then another, and suddenly you couldn’t stop. Your shoulders shook violently as the sobs wracked through you, your breath coming in uneven, desperate gasps. Your hands covered your face, as if that could somehow hold you together, but the moment you closed your eyes, all you could see was Kaia.

Your baby, broken.

You bent forward, pressing your forehead against your hands, trying to breathe, trying to think past the agony that had settled deep in your ribs. But all you could do was sob harder, the sound echoing through the room.

Azriel was in front of you in an instant, kneeling, his hands hovering, unsure if he was allowed to touch you. “YN,” he whispered, his voice tight, pained.

You shook your head frantically, curling in on yourself, your hands fisting into your shirt as if you could claw the grief out of your chest. Your breath hitched, too fast, too shallow, and for a terrifying moment, you thought you might not be able to breathe at all.

Azriel’s hands finally found your shoulders, grounding, steady. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Breathe with me, love. Just breathe.”

But you couldn’t. You were drowning, lost in the unbearable weight of your daughter’s suffering, of everything that had been shattered between you and the only person who was supposed to understand.

“I c-can’t,” you gasped between sobs, shaking your head, your vision swimming. “Azriel, I can’t—I can’t—”

His hands tightened slightly, warm and firm, as he moved closer. “Yes, you can,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours now, his breath steady despite the anguish in his voice. “You’re not alone.”

But you had never felt more alone in your entire life.

Azriel didn’t hesitate this time. The second he saw you breaking apart, crumbling under the weight of everything, he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you tightly. His wings curled around you both, shielding you from the world, as if that alone could keep you safe from the pain tearing through you.

You didn’t resist. You didn’t have the strength to. The second his warmth surrounded you, you collapsed against his chest, sobbing so hard that your entire body shook with each ragged breath.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice raw, his lips pressing against the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, love.”

His hands moved slowly, one stroking up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, holding you as if you might shatter completely if he let go. His touch was gentle, reverent—so achingly familiar that it only made you sob harder.

“I know,” he whispered, rocking you slightly, his voice barely more than a breath. “I know, YN. Just let it out.”

You clung to him, your fingers curling into his tunic as you buried your face in his chest. His scent surrounded you—night-chilled mist and cedar and something distinctly Azriel—and it only made the ache in your heart worse.

“I c-can’t do this,” you gasped between sobs. “I can’t—Azriel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his hand sliding into your hair, his fingers threading through it in slow, soothing strokes. “You’re the strongest person I know, YN. You have always been strong.”

You shook your head against him, your body still trembling. “Not anymore.”

His grip on you tightened, his wings pressing closer, wrapping you in warmth. “That’s not true,” he said quietly. “You are still you. Even if it feels like you’re falling apart, you’re still here. You’re still fighting.”

Your sobs slowed just slightly, your breathing still uneven, but no longer the desperate gasps of before. His fingers traced slow, steady circles against your back, grounding you, anchoring you to him.

“I need her back,” you whispered brokenly, your voice barely audible.

Azriel swallowed hard, his chin resting atop your head. “I know,” he murmured. “We’ll get her back, love. I swear it.”

Your hands fisted tighter in his tunic, as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping you from completely unravelling. His steady heartbeat thudded against your cheek, a quiet rhythm that, for the first time in days, gave you something to hold on to.

And even though the pain was still there, even though the ache in your chest felt like it might never fade, you let yourself sink into his warmth, into the arms of the only person who had ever truly understood you.

You sniffled, your breath still uneven as you rested against Azriel’s chest. His warmth, his steady presence, was the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart. But it wasn’t enough—not yet. Not when your heart still ached with a desperation so deep it felt like it might consume you.

“I need to see her,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

Azriel tensed slightly beneath you, his arms tightening around you as if he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. “YN…”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, pulling back just enough to look up at him. Your face was still streaked with tears, your eyes swollen and red, but there was no hesitation in your voice. “I need to see my daughter, Azriel. I need to hold her.”

His jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “She’s still healing,” he said carefully. “She’s fragile, YN. Moving her could—”

“I’m not asking to take her away from there,” you cut in sharply. “I just want to be with her. I just—I need to see her.”

Azriel exhaled slowly, searching your face as if trying to gauge whether you could handle it. Whether he could handle it. But you knew him—you knew that he wanted the same thing. That despite everything, he was still terrified of seeing her like that, of feeling helpless when all he wanted was to fix it.

But he wouldn’t tell you no. He couldn’t.

“I’ll take you,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “I’ll take you to her.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as your fingers gripped his tunic once more.

Azriel pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before he whispered, “Hold on to me.”

And as he winnowed you away, your heart pounded in your chest, equal parts fear and hope battling within you. Because in just a few moments, you would see her again. And you didn’t know if you could bear it.

-----

Cassian sat in the chair beside Kaia’s small bed, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his jaw tight with barely contained fury. The dim glow of the faelights cast long shadows across the room, flickering softly against the delicate features of the sleeping child beside him. Nyx sat on the edge of the mattress, tiny fingers gently brushing over Kaia’s hand, his little brows furrowed in concern.

“She’s so small,” Nyx whispered, barely loud enough for Cassian to hear.

Cassian’s throat tightened. He knew. He knew all too well. Kaia looked impossibly fragile, her wings carefully bandaged, her skin still pale from blood loss. Even in sleep, she winced slightly, the pain still present even through the healer’s efforts. It made something sharp twist in his chest.

He reached over, smoothing a hand over Nyx’s dark hair. “She’s strong,” he murmured. “Like her mother. Like her father.”

Nyx nodded solemnly, but his eyes didn’t leave Kaia. “When will she wake up?”

Cassian sighed, his fingers curling into a fist in his lap. “Soon, bud. The healers said she needs rest.”

Nyx was quiet for a long moment before he said, “Mama would sing to me when I was sick.”

Cassian’s chest ached. He knew that, too. Feyre had done the same for him when he’d been recovering after the war. He swallowed hard, glancing at Kaia before looking back at Nyx. “Do you want to sing to her?”

Nyx hesitated, then gave a small nod. His voice was quiet, soft, a child’s lullaby barely above a whisper. Cassian closed his eyes for a moment, listening, letting the melody settle over him like a blanket.

Then he heard the distinct shift of air behind him—the subtle sound of winnowing. His eyes snapped open, and he turned just in time to see Azriel and YN step into the doorway.

And the second YN saw her daughter, Cassian saw the breath leave her lungs.

YN didn’t move at first. She just stood there, frozen in the doorway, her eyes locked onto the tiny form of her daughter lying in the bed. Azriel was beside her, his hand hovering near the small of her back, as if ready to steady her if she collapsed.

Cassian watched as her expression crumbled. She made a sound—half a sob, half a breathless whisper—and then she was moving.

“Kaia,” YN choked out, her voice breaking as she rushed forward.

Nyx quickly moved aside as YN fell to her knees beside the bed, her shaking hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching her daughter, as if she were afraid that any contact might shatter her.

Cassian saw the tears spill freely down her face as she finally—finally—placed a hand over Kaia’s tiny fingers, her touch impossibly gentle.

“She’s okay,” Cassian murmured, his voice softer now. “She’s healing.”

YN let out a shaky breath, her other hand coming up to brush a few strands of hair away from Kaia’s face. “My baby,” she whispered.

Azriel still hadn’t moved. He was standing a few steps away, his shadows curling around his shoulders as he stared at Kaia, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His face was unreadable, but Cassian could see the tension in his jaw, the storm in his hazel eyes.

Kaia stirred slightly at her mother’s touch, her little brows furrowing, and YN let out a quiet sob, pressing a trembling kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

Cassian stood, giving Azriel a look before motioning to Nyx. “Come on, bud. Let’s give them a moment.”

Nyx hesitated but nodded, casting one last glance at Kaia before taking Cassian’s hand. They stepped toward the door, and Cassian briefly clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder as he passed, grounding him. Azriel didn’t react, just kept staring at his daughter.

As Cassian and Nyx left the room, he heard YN whispering Kaia’s name over and over, like she was trying to convince herself that she was really here. That she was safe.

Kaia stirred beneath YN’s trembling hands, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her little body shifted against the blankets. Her brows furrowed as if sensing the weight of exhaustion and pain still lingering in her small frame.

YN sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening around Kaia’s hand. “Kaia?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Azriel stepped closer, his breath caught in his throat as he watched their daughter’s lashes flutter. It was the first real movement she had made since they’d arrived.

Kaia’s tiny fingers twitched beneath YN’s, and then, sluggishly, her eyes cracked open.

“Mama…” The word was faint, barely more than a breath, but it shattered something deep inside YN.

She let out a sob of relief, brushing her fingers gently over Kaia’s warm, flushed cheek. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

Kaia blinked sluggishly, her little lips parting as if trying to form more words. Her gaze, unfocused and glassy, shifted slightly, searching.

Then, in a broken, hoarse voice, she whimpered, “Dada?”

Azriel made a sound—one that was almost a strangled breath. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, his shaking hands hesitating just above Kaia’s tiny body.

“I’m here, sweet girl,” he rasped, his voice barely holding together. “I’m right here.”

Kaia’s small fingers curled slightly, as if reaching for him, and that was all it took. Azriel’s hands gently enveloped her tiny one, his shadows retreating for the first time in weeks as he pressed a trembling kiss to her palm.

YN let out a watery laugh between her sobs, smoothing Kaia’s tangled curls. “You’re so strong, my love. So strong.”

Kaia blinked up at them both, her little body weak, but the warmth of her parents surrounding her seemed to settle her.

Then, in the softest, sleepiest voice, she whispered, “Home?”

YN bit back another sob, leaning down to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Soon, sweetheart,” she promised. “Soon, we’ll go home.”

Kaia’s lashes fluttered as she drifted back into sleep, her breathing deep and even.

Azriel exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against YN’s as they clung to each other, holding onto the one thing that mattered most.

One more part left...

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