r-s-vale

[r-s-vale]

Chapter Two: The Girl in the Water

Healing Ward – House of Wind

The ward was quiet.

But the air was thick—with magic, with tension, with the kind of stillness that came before storms.

Wards glowed faintly along the walls. Shields. Containment. Monitoring. No one knew what she was—only that she wasn’t normal. And the crater she left behind was proof enough.

Azriel sat just inside the threshold. Shadows low and alert.

He hadn’t left her side since the moment she fell.

Not when they carried her in—burned and twitching.

Not when her body flared with magic no one could identify.

And not now, as she stirred awake for the first time.

---

They brought her a basin.

No one asked why.

She hadn’t used words, just whispered:

> “No mirrors. Something low. I need to see.”

They gave her what she wanted.

Now she sat on the stone floor—barefoot, arms wrapped around herself, staring into still water.

Azriel watched from the corner. His shadows twitched, uneasy.

She didn’t move.

Just stared.

The curve of her cheek. The width of her shoulders. The shimmer of scars along her ribs. The woman in the water wasn’t a stranger—but she wasn’t familiar, either. A ghost in skin.

Her fingers brushed the surface.

The water didn’t ripple.

But her magic did.

A soft pulse shimmered through the room.

---

Cassian’s boots clicked in the doorway.

> “Thought I’d check on her.”

Azriel didn’t take his eyes off her.

> “She asked to be alone.”

> “She also lit up like a bloody supernova.”

Inside, she didn’t move.

Cassian took a careful step closer.

> “Hey.”

She flinched—like a bolt of lightning had struck her.

Whipped around, wide-eyed, half-feral.

Cassian froze.

> “Whoa—easy.”

Her gaze fell to his gauze-wrapped fingers.

Her voice cracked.

> “Didn’t anyone teach you not to play with fire, boy?”

Cassian blinked. Then laughed.

> “Wasn’t me playing. You did this.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter.

> “He tried to help you. You lit him up.”

She stared at them.

> “I did that?”

They nodded.

Her throat bobbed.

> “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Cassian softened.

> “It’s fine. Really.”

She looked again at the bandages.

> “That looks like second-degree burns.”

Cassian blinked.

> “What’s a degree of a burn?”

She winced.

> “Human term. Never mind. Put your hands in the water.”

He hesitated.

> “You sure?”

> “I won’t burn you again.” Her voice lowered. “Please.”

He crouched beside her, dipping his hands into the water.

She followed—kneeling across from him, trembling, focused. She cradled his hands like they were fragile.

Azriel didn’t move.

She breathed. Pushed. Focused.

Her nose bled. Her magic sparked.

Still—she didn’t stop.

A pulse of heat shimmered across the water. Not flame. Not light. Something older.

Cassian’s eyes widened.

And then—

The skin healed.

Redness faded. Blisters vanished. Smooth, unmarred flesh remained.

> “Fuck,” he whispered.

Azriel stepped forward.

> “That’s enough.”

But she didn’t hear.

Her body locked.

Her eyes rolled back.

She collapsed.

---

The Inner Circle arrived in a storm.

Doors slammed. Shadows scattered.

Rhysand. Feyre. Amren. Mor. Nesta. Elain.

When they entered, they found her unconscious in Azriel’s arms, and a stunned, uncharacteristically quiet Cassian beside him.

Rhys stepped forward, cautious.

> “What happened?”

Cassian held up his healed hands.

> “She… she healed me.”

Azriel added,

> “She said it was a ‘degree’ of a burn. Whatever that means.”

They all stared.

In awe.

In fear.

> What else could she do?

---

They got her back to bed.

More wards. More spells.

Azriel stayed at her side.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

And somewhere, deep inside the stone bones of the House—

Something listened.

[r-s-vale]

Chapter One: The Girl Who Didn’t Die Right

---

Velaris — Nightfall

The scream didn’t come from the ground.

It came from above.

A sound like a crack of thunder split the sky wide—

Followed by a blinding rupture of light.

Like the heavens had been peeled open with a blade.

Velaris stopped breathing.

Windows rattled.

Lamps blew out.

Children clutched their mothers.

Warriors reached for blades.

A burning comet streaked across the heavens,

Trailing flame—

Like a god had thrown a match into the mortal world.

And at the center of it all—

Something fell.

Something human.

---

Sidra Valley — Minutes Later

Azriel

He had felt it.

Not just seen it, but felt it in his bones.

In his shadows.

In the thread of magic whispering between him and the world.

It wasn’t a ripple.

It was a tear.

He flew toward the impact zone with a silence that defied speed.

The valley steamed with recent snowmelt.

A crater scorched the land where she’d hit.

Trees were blackened.

The river hissed.

Birds were gone.

Magic still hung in the air like static clinging to skin.

And in the center of it all—

Her.

Naked.

Seared.

Twitching.

Alive.

Barely.

Azriel froze the moment his shadows reached her.

They reared back.

Not from fear.

From something deeper.

Reverence.

Like they’d brushed the edge of a god’s altar—

And didn’t dare cross it again.

One tendril tried to wrap around her wrist—

And disintegrated.

He crouched low.

Inching forward.

Her skin glowed faintly—

Gold and red layered like embers under flesh.

She was covered in bruises, welts, and ancient scars.

Her thighs streaked with faded firelines.

Her ribs bore lash-like burns.

Her collarbone glimmered with a half-melted pendant,

Fused to her skin, still pulsing weakly with light.

Black or blue—he couldn’t tell under the moonlight—

Clung to her face like it had been set ablaze and grown back.

Her skin: deep bronze, smoke-darkened.

Sweat-slick.

Bleeding.

A warrior’s body.

A survivor’s face.

Broad-hipped.

Solid.

She wasn’t dainty or delicate—

She was made to carry weight.

And to endure.

And even unconscious,

Her fingers twitched—

Like they remembered the blade.

Azriel crouched beside her, wings folding.

His heart pounded.

Not from fear.

From awe.

Something pulled at him.

Not magic.

Not duty.

A thread that hadn’t existed before—

Now tugged at his chest like a second heartbeat.

Then—

Her eyes snapped open.

---

Her — Mid-Fall

It burns.

Everything burns.

Not skin.

Not muscle.

Soul.

She can’t scream.

Her voice—left somewhere in the Veil.

The light is endless.

It pierces her, rips her open,

Stitches her into something new that doesn’t quite fit.

Her bones—

Folding. Unfolding.

Her body pulls forward while her soul drags behind.

A boy’s hand—small, sticky.

A man’s sob for “Rosa!”

Her hands stretching—

Then snapping.

The Veil spits her out.

She is fire.

She doesn’t know her name.

Doesn’t know why she hurts.

But she knows—

She’s not where she’s supposed to be.

She tastes ash.

Her jaw is slack.

Her body isn’t hers.

Too big.

Too soft.

Too weak.

Her chest rises—

And a scream is buried beneath it.

Then a figure.

Male.

Lean.

Shadows curl around him like breath.

He’s beautiful.

Dangerous.

Familiar in a way she cannot name.

> "Are you gonna kill me?"

She asks, because it’s the only thing that makes sense.

His eyes widen.

> “No.”

Her lips twitch.

> “Too tired to fight.”

Then—

A flicker of light behind her eyes.

Then she passes out.

And she whispers,

> “...Chester…”

Softer. Like an exhale after heartbreak:

> “...Dante…”

---

Cassian Arrives

He slammed into the earth behind Azriel like a meteor.

> “What the fuck—”

Then he saw her.

And his voice died in his throat.

> “Is she fae?”

> “I don’t think so.”

> “Then how is she alive?”

Azriel didn’t answer.

He peeled off his jacket.

Draped it over her.

The moment it touched her skin, it sizzled.

> “She’s on fire,” Cassian hissed.

> “No,” Azriel said softly.

“She is fire.”

Cassian reached to help—

Gripping her knees and shoulder.

He yelled, recoiling.

His palms blistered.

> “Mother’s tits—”

> “She’s unstable,” Azriel muttered.

“Her aura’s flaring.”

They crouched beside her.

Her pendant pulsed.

Flared gold—

And died.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at the molten thing fused to her collarbone.

It shimmered with residual power.

> “It’ll keep burning her.”

Cassian watched her skin try to heal around it.

Flesh bubbling, reforming.

Rejecting the metal—

But sealing shut around it again.

Azriel grabbed a cloth,

Soaked it in river water,

Pressed it to her chest.

Steam erupted.

With a wince, he peeled the pendant free.

It detached with a reluctant hiss.

Still glowing faintly.

He wrapped it.

Pocketed it.

They would both forget it—

For now.

And watch the wound seal shut.

A fresh scar now there.

---

House of Wind — Council Chamber

The light was seen from the river.

From the market.

From the mountain’s peak.

Amren looked up from her wine.

> “That wasn’t from here.”

Nesta shivered.

Arm half-buckled in armor.

> “I felt it. In the stone.”

Feyre rubbed her sternum.

> “Something broke.”

Rhys stood slowly.

> “Azriel’s pulse is erratic. She’s not alone.”

> “Who is she?” Mor asked.

> “Wrong question,” Amren said.

“What woke up when she arrived?”

Emery paled.

> “A prophecy?”

> “Or punishment,” Rhys murmured.

He turned toward the sky.

> “We prepare to catch.”

---

Back at the River

> “She’s too hot to move,” Azriel said.

> “So what?” Cassian grimaced.

“We leave her?”

Azriel shook his head.

> “We cool her down.”

> “With what?” Cassian waved at the scorched snow.

“She turned winter to steam.”

The brothers moved to the river’s edge.

Cassian scooped both hands into the icy water—

Sloshed it overhead like he was baptizing her back to life.

The hiss was immediate.

Steam billowed up like smoke from a forge.

Azriel just stared at him.

> “…Subtle.”

Cassian grunted.

> “Worked, didn’t it?”

Azriel shook his head slowly.

> “You’re lucky she’s unconscious.”

He followed with gentler hands.

Dribbling water across her brow.

The steam softened.

Her body began to settle.

Her breathing eased.

But her lips moved again.

Not words.

Just…

A name.

> “...Chester…”

A beat. Then—

Softer. Smaller.

Like a lullaby echoing through a battlefield:

> “...Dante…”

Azriel’s shadows flinched.

And far away—

In the bones of the mountain—

Something ancient shifted.

The Illyrian scouts landed, armored and wary.

Azriel stepped back.

> “Transport her carefully. Don’t let her wake up alone.”

The warriors nodded.

They wrapped her body in damp cloth and leather.

Then—

One of them froze.

At the edge of the crater—

Barely breathing—

Lay another body.

A male.

Scarred. Near death.

Clutching her hand.

> “Was he with her?” Cassian blinked.

Azriel’s shadows whispered.

> “Watched over her. Kept her safe.”

The scouts gently lifted him too.

No one told her.

No one knew how she’d react.

But someone—

One soul—

Had tried to pull her from the fire.

And paid the price.

---

Magic Bleeds

As they lifted her,

Magic trembled.

Visions bled from her like heat:

A man behind her in the kitchen,

Arms around her waist.

Warm breath on her neck.

Laughter.

A child’s voice yelling “Mama!” in a field of dandelions.

A table.

Bread.

Laughter.

Trust.

A fire.

Her hands outstretched.

A door half-open.

And her—

Willing to burn for them.

Then darkness.

Then silence.

And a single shadow curled toward Azriel’s coat.

Paused at the hidden pendant.

Then retreated.

---

She didn’t just fall.

She—

(to be continued)

[r-s-vale]

Prologue – The Fall

---

The Fire

The fire was alive.

It howled around her, hungry and hateful, clawing at the walls as if it knew what she was about to do.

The weight in her arms—her son, her reason—kept her grounded.

Kept her moving.

He was limp with fear, bundled in her gear, mask strapped tight.

His eyes searched hers.

He trusted her.

The smoke was so thick she could barely see—

But she knew the route.

Knew the old floorboards beneath her boots.

Knew how many steps to the second-floor window, the one they always cracked for the breeze.

When she got there—

Chaos.

She slammed her shoulder into the window, shattering the glass with the weight of a mother’s panic.

And then—

"CHESTER!!"

It was a scream from the depths of her soul.

A plea for her son not to suffer and go out like this.

"CHESTER!!"

She roared the name over the crackling fire, over the groans of a dying house.

And then—

he appeared.

Beyond the flames, down in the yard—Chester.

His eyes found hers.

Time stopped.

She pressed her forehead to Dante’s one last time.

“I love you,” she sobbed, throat scorched raw.

“I love you, and I will always love you both!”

And she threw him—

Out the window.

Toward the only man she would ever love.

She watched Chester catch him.

Watched his arms close around their boy.

“Take care of him—keep him safe, please, baby!”

Before he could answer, the floor beneath her gave way.

It collapsed in a scream of splinters and flame—

Dragging her down with it.

---

She crashed hard.

Her ribs screamed.

Her vision swam.

She blinked—

And realized where she was.

Their room.

Ash fell from the ceiling like snow.

She turned her head.

The nightstand.

The pendant.

She crawled to it—sobbing, wheezing, body half-broken.

The heat blistered her skin, but she didn’t care.

She grabbed the chain.

Pulled it over her neck.

Curled around it, coughing black smoke.

“I’ve lost enough today,” she gasped to whatever cruel god was listening.

“Fucking grant me this!!”

A heartbeat passed.

And something heard her.

---

The Magic

Pain surged.

Light shattered.

And something—heard.

She curled tighter around the pendant, her body screaming, ribs caving in with every ragged breath.

The fire had stopped burning.

Not gone—

Changing.

The flames around her began to move like fabric in water, slower, almost graceful.

Reds turned to deep crimson.

Then to black.

Smoke thinned into a silver mist that moved against the wind, curling around her, whispering her name.

No—

Not her name.

A name she didn’t recognize.

A name that wasn’t hers.

> (V): Do you want to live?

It wasn’t a voice.

It was a thought, pressed into her skull like a brand.

> (V): Or do you want to remember?

She tried to speak.

She didn’t know how.

All she could do was hold tighter to the pendant—what little she had left.

The mist answered for her.

> (V): So be it.

And the world tore.

It ripped down the middle—

A seam splitting between flesh and flame, between reality and something older.

She screamed—

But there was no sound.

Her body shattered.

Her mind split like glass.

She was falling again.

Only this time, the fire came with her.

---

The Crossing

Blackness.

Cold.

Pressure.

Time shattered.

Her name unraveled into stardust.

Her body dissolved like ash in water.

But something... watched.

> (V): You are broken. Fractured beyond repair.

> But there is still a path. A vessel. A world not your own.

> Do you want to live?

> Or do you want to remember?

“I have people I want to come back to!”

> (V): Then break, the voice whispered. And be remade.

She held the pendant until her hands dissolved.

Until all that remained was soul.

It would not survive reentry—

But she carried its memory like a blade in her ribs.

---

The Second Soul – Seraphyne

Her world had already burned.

She had slept for centuries.

Forgotten.

Buried under stone and time and silence.

No one came for her.

No one remembered her.

Until something—

Someone—struck her like a falling star.

The impact shattered the stillness.

(S): What is this—what’s happening—this isn’t me—

Rosa’s soul collided with hers.

Tearing through every inch of her, fusing, bleeding, consuming.

She screamed—

But there was no mouth.

No air.

Just agony.

Then—

Darkness.

---

The Crater

Smoke rose in delicate threads from the scarred earth.

Magic still sizzled in the wound it left behind.

At the center of the crater, she lay.

Seraphyne’s body—scarred, barely breathing.

Her skin shimmered faintly, cracked with old runes and fresh burns.

No memory.

No name.

Just breath.

A man had tried to carry her—drag her from the wreckage when she fell.

His corpse lay beside her, face down in the ash.

His hand still on her ankle, like he’d refused to let her die alone.

But the Inner Circle had not found them yet.

The air was thick with tension—

A warning in the wind:

> Something has awakened.

And it does not know what it is.

---

The First Awakening

One breath.

Another.

And then—

> (R): Who the fuck are you?!

> (S): Where the fuck am I?!

> (R): This isn’t my body—this isn’t my face—

> (S): Get out!

> (R): I can’t—I’m stuck—what did you do to me—

The body jerked violently.

Unnatural. Twisted.

Limbs fought each other.

Teeth clenched.

Fingers clawed at dirt.

Two minds. One broken form.

They writhed in the center of the crater like a dying star.

---

Somewhere Far Away

A pulse.

A flare.

In Velaris, ancient enchantments cracked.

Wards triggered.

Shadows froze.

Warriors turned toward the sky—then to each other.

They didn’t know her name.

They didn’t know what she was.

But they felt it.

Something was coming.

And it had already arrived.

[r-s-vale]

Find it if you dare, A03 is now live with the prologue and chapter 1!

[r-s-vale]

🖤✨ Don't worry, my darlings—I haven’t forgotten you. ✨🖤

Art takes time. Madness takes patience.

I promised I’d deliver.

And here it is: the beginning of your end. 😉

🔥 THE SANCTUM SERIES HAS BEGUN 🔥

Prologue now live on AO3.

Chapter One is already sharpening its claws.

A woman who fell through fire.

A soul that cracked the sky.

A body that doesn’t belong to her—

and a power this world was not ready for.

If you love:

🗡️ Slow burn to inferno

🩸 Dual souls in one body

🖤 Azriel being feral and so not ready

🌌 Found family, forgotten gods, ancient magic, emotional damage, and one hell of a pendant...

#sanctum series #acotar fanfic #azriel x ofc #rosa and seraphyne #burn it all down #chapter one coming in hot

Then baby, this one’s for you.

📖 AO3: [Prologue – The Fall] sanctum series

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.reader.ao3apparchive

[r-s-vale]

He didn’t know her name the first time he saw her.

Just the cloak. The way the shadows hesitated.

A hand cupped around flame—unburned.

A presence that demanded nothing… yet shifted everything.

Azriel wasn’t afraid of the dark.

But something in him paused. Watched.

And for the first time in a long time—he wanted to be seen.

Sanctum is coming.

[r-s-vale]

Azriel never thought he’d kneel for anything but orders.

Then came the sanctuary.

Then came her.

Short teaser below. Full story coming to AO3.

If SJM doesn’t give us kinky Azriel, I will.

And I’ll make it sacred.

Welcome to Sanctum.

Azriel didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

His presence entered before he did—shadows brushing against the walls like they were asking for permission.

She didn’t offer it. She just was—seated, calm, still as a reflection.

No command. No invitation.

The fire cracked once.

“You’re late,” she said softly.

Azriel blinked. “For what?”

“Your undoing.”

He stayed standing for a moment too long.

Then, slowly, he stepped inside and closed the door.

There was no battlefield here.

No war to fight.

Just the sound of his own breath in a room that made it feel like armor didn’t belong.

[r-s-vale]

Welcome to Sanctum — Tag Directory for R. S. Vale

You’ve entered the Sanctum.

Below is your map. Use these tags to find your way—or to leave your mark.

Main Tags to Follow:

#sanctumseries – All fic content, teasers, quotes, updates

#r.s.vale writes – Everything I post or create

#kneel for her – Signature line energy

#shadow daddy undone – Where Azriel is at his most feral and most reverent

#sacred smut – Because this isn’t just spicy—it’s holy

AO3 posts will be tagged with:

#sanctum ao3 | #chapter updates

Want to tag me in a reblog or reaction?

Use #r.s.vale writes or tag @r-s-vale directly. I see everything—in shadows, of course.

Fan art, reactions, memes, tears, screams, thirst posts—they’re all welcome.

Welcome home, darling.

Don’t be afraid to kneel.

[r-s-vale]

“I don’t need you to kneel for me,” she said, voice like smoke and silk. “I need you to mean it when you do.”

Sanctum is coming.

Chapter One drops soon on AO3.

Shadow Daddy is about to fall.

[r-s-vale]

I said if SJM didn’t give us kinky Azriel, I would—and here we are.

Sanctum is my debut: a story of sacred kink, emotional undoing, and shadowed devotion.

This isn’t just spice. It’s power. It’s healing. It’s the kind of slow surrender that burns from the inside out.

Domme!OFC x Azriel

Consent, reverence, emotional wreckage, and the man who’s finally learning how to beg.

Chapter One: The First Knock will be posted soon on AO3.

For now—light the candles, kneel in the dark, and wait.

Shadow Daddy is about to serve!!