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azrielsiphons · 6 years ago

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Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same (ch. 16)

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This fic is meant to be read in connection with my Azriel-centric prequel stories. I would highly suggest reading those first to get the full reading experience of this fic.

ONE YEAR OF NO UPDATE AND I RETURN WITH A DOOZY. Thanks for reading if you choose to, please like and reblog (I always read reblog tags) or drop in my ask and let me know what you think. I’ve really loved bringing this story back and I hope some people who kept up with it it way back when are still around and enjoy it <3

Lena was painfully aware of the fragmented mirror in the pocket of her Illyrian leathers as Jareth led her out of his castle’s trove. The whispers were gradually fading, but her magic still sang with its promises.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I rush back to Prythian.”

Jareth’s chuckle reverberated in Lena’s bones as they ascended the staircase, the darkness of the stairwell setting her at ease like a familiar friend.

“After everything you showed me about your mate I’m surprised you haven’t already rushed back.”

Lena was silent at that, though the corners of her lips tugged upwards in thought of Azriel.

That small smile soon vanished like mist though as she remember the stinging truths he had forced her to confront before she had left.

“Lena, I don’t know how to live with the fact that you killed those people in my name.”

“You killed innocent people for the King because you thought you were protecting me.

“…the burden of their deaths isn’t just on you anymore.”

“…the Lena I know and love would have never killed someone innocent for selfish purposes.”

Though they had promised to be more honest with one another, Lena knew thst she herself still needed to come to terms with her wrong-doings. She needed to own up to the seventy-six innocent lives that she had taken because of her toxic love for Azriel.

There was no blame to be placed anywhere other than unto herself. Not the mating bond, nor the King, nor Azriel himself were at fault for the lives she took too early. Only Lena herself was at fault for her wrongs. And it was time to confess — truly confess.

“Jareth, I know I have already apologized, but,” the King of Vallahan’s wrist was warm under Lena’s fingertips as she reached for him, “I am truly, utterly sorry for what I did to Danias and his family. To your family. I know that you are not helping Prythian simply because of me, but I am indebted to you all the same.”

Jareth’s gaze was piercing as she lowered her head. It did not escape his understanding the significance of someone of her power and unofficial rank bowing to him.

“I accept your apology,” he said, clearly meaning his words. “And I may call upon that debt one day.”

Lena raised her violet eyes, which flashed with delight. “If we survive all of this, I will be sure to answer that call.”

Suddenly heavy, running footsteps echoed throughout the throne room. Lena immediately moved her hands towards the knives sheathed at her side.

“My King!” the running guard called out, a young man with freckles like constellations across his face. “The Summer Court, they’re — they’re under attack!”

“What?” Lena and Jareth both cried out incredulously. “By whom?” Jareth demanded, his voice every bit a King.

“Hybern,” Lena whispered. “They’ve made their first move.” She looked to the guard, her mouth a hard line. “How long would it have taken for that message to get here?”

“Three hours maybe? Perhaps longer.”

Lena cursed under her breath, knowing in her bones that her family would have gotten the message back in the Night Court since she had arrived in Vallahan. And she knew just as well that they all would have gone to aid them.

She swirled on Jareth, the golden crown atop his head reflecting her own resolved expression.

“I have to go to them. My family will already be there. Please, prepare your armies and wait for word from me. Hybern is moving quicker than I anticipated and—”

“Vallahan will be ready when the true battle comes,” Jareth declared, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Go to your family.”

Lena grasped his forearm tightly. “Thank you,” she said, violet eyes shining.

Lena stepped away and wrapped herself in darkness without another word, winnowing to the Summer Court as fast as her magic could carry her.

~~~~~

For all of her time as Hybern’s weapon, Lena had never been in a true battle. No, she had always been the knife in the dark, the assassin at the King’s behest during her time under his thumb.

But not anymore.

She winnowed straight into the middle of Adriata, more specifically to the place where she had once been to a festival there as a girl — with Azriel no less. But the sight there was nothing as she remembered.

The coppery tang of blood filled her senses, and the screams echoed in her ears. Two things both incredibly familiar to her, and yet never in this context.

Hybern’s soldiers were everywhere — High fae, faerie, and more of his horrendous creatures she knew no name for. There were Illyrians already on this street fighting them off — undoubtedly Cassian’s men as she observed the skilled way they fought.

Her observations did not last long though as a green-skinned Hybern faerie gave a horrendous yell, running at her with sword in hand. Lena blinked once, narrowing her eyes as she fell into the killing calm she knew all too well.

And so it began.

She alternated between her magic and her blades, both of which decimated every Hybern soldier in her path. The Illyrian soldiers watched her in awe as they took down enemies of their own — unaware that they were fighting alongside their High Lord’s sister who was also the former weapon of Hybern itself.

Time seemed to pass quickly as she created a haze of blood — odd, considering each mission as Hybern’s weapon seemed to drag on. War was completely different, though the killing felt the same.

An hour had passed when there was finally a break in the bloodshed. Her sword swung hard and true, beheading the last of the ugly winged creatures on the street closest to the docks.

Lena’s chest heaved as its disgusting body crumpled beneath her, its head rolling into the gutter. Licking her chapped lips, she tasted blood as she sheathed her sword once more. Illyrian soldiers whispered behind her as she ran her hands over her cheeks, trying and failing to wipe away all of the red.

It was in the midst of this break that she felt it. The weight upon her magic, the oily slickness preventing her from reaching fully into that well of power deep within.

There was only one person that could be the cause.

In the midst of all the fighting, she had only occasionally tapped into that power for fear of not being able to control it — she was a knife in the dark after all, unaccustomed to full battle. She didn’t want to accidentally mist half of Cassian’s men in an attempt to end the battle early.

And in doing so, she had been oblivious to the dampening power radiating from what could only be the King himself.

With only the slightest hesitation, she reached out with her mind to anyone — everyone in her family.

I’m here, she sent out, wincing at the abnormal difficulty of using her power. Where is everyone? I—

Lena, leave! Rhys’s voice was like a blow to the side of the head, practically screaming inside her head. Get back home before he—

There was nothing she could have done to prevent what followed. Blinding light that was all too familiar ripped her from the very cobble-stoned ground she was standing on. It tore at her skin, making the scar cutting across her face flare in an agony that she foolishly believed she had escaped.

She landed upon a wooden surface face-first, crashing as though she had been flung down from the very heavens. She felt hands grappling at her immediately, pulling her to her feet as she groaned in pain.

Rhys pushed his sister behind him in one smooth motion, his hand reaching back to grasp her arm hard enough to bruise.

Lena blinked away a drop of blood that fell from her brow bone, looking past Rhys’s shoulder at her centuries-long torturer himself.

“Hello, my pet,” the King of Hybern crooned, a sick smile plastered across his face. Not a drop of blood graced his personage. “Thank you for joining us. I have missed you dearly.”

“Do not speak to her.” Rhys’s voice promised a slow, painful death.

“Rhys,” Lena spoke, cursing herself for her wobbling voice, “I’m fine.”

“Are you, dear?” the King asked with a bemused expression. “You look a little pale beneath all of that blood. That lovely scar is still visible as ever though.”

“I wear this scar with pride.”

“Let me guess. You wear it to show how you got away from me, how you survived centuries of torture at the hands of the evil King,” he mocked. The muscles in Lena’s jaw jumped as she grit her teeth. “My dear, you should wear that scar with shame as it was intended. Let it remind you of every day that you stayed when you could have walked right out.” His voice was like the hiss of a snake.

“I fell for your lies, I’ll admit,” Lena spat, pushing past Rhys despite his warning look. “You manipulated me well. But no more. I am free and that kills you, doesn’t it? It must drive you insane that I finally escaped you and now you have to do all of your dirty work yourself.”

“Are you though?” he asked like a lover. “Are you truly free of me, dearest weapon of mine?”

“I will be when you’re corpse is soon rotting in an unmarked grave.”

“Enough of this,” the king said with a flourish of his hand. Lena felt Rhys reinforce his shields. “Before you arrived I was just telling your brother how I plan to reclaim what is rightfully mine. And that does not include the mortals you and your kin deign to coddle and protect.”

Lena looked up to her brother, seeing the burdens written across his face that he held so well. He met her gaze, twin eyes of violet briefly sharing the same mind.

Lena looked back to the King, offering a sly grin. “We’ll see about that.”

Rhys created a javelin of pure power in less than a second, flinging it hard and true at the King’s chest. Just as Lena was about to release her power and mist the King’s cold heart within his very chest — the javelin went straight through him, without leaving a mark.

A mirage. The King wasn’t there at all.

“Did you think I’d appear at this battle myself?” He waved a hand toward the soldiers still watching. “A taste—this battle is only a taste for you. To whet your appetite.”

Then he disappeared.

The dampening magic that had been leaking over Adriata disappeared with him, and the full use of Rhys and Lena’s powers flooded them once more.

The siblings met eyes, shock and fear written over them. The soldiers remaining on the boat looked at the two with nasty smiles, their murderous intent rippling across the boat.

Rhys breathed deeply, preparing for what he had to do. But Lena stopped him with a hand.

“Don’t. I’ll do it.”

The soldiers had barely lifted their swords before Lena misted them all into a cloud of red.

Rhys and Lena stood there in silence as the blood fell — staining the wood and the churning sea waters below as the seconds passed.

“When did you—”

“About an hour ago,” Lena answered, her eyes downcast.

“And you’re okay?” She nodded. Rhys breathed in deeply, casting his eyes across the water to the city — once shining and lively, now running with blood and screams.

“Everyone is here? Everyone is...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.

“Yes. Feyre is…” he gazed off into the space ahead of him, undoubtedly speaking to Feyre through their bond, “…with Tarquin.”

“Go,” Lena said, breaking Rhys out of his reverie by placing a hand on his arm. “Go to her. I’ll find Azriel and the others, and help tend to the wounded.”

“You can’t be seen,” Rhys insisted. “No one else knows that you’re alive.”

“I’m hardly recognizable right now, Rhysand,” she replied, gesturing to the blood and swollen scar across her face. “And no one is going to be paying attention to me anways. Now go to Feyre.”

Rhys’s heavy shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, his lips pursed together in a forced smile.

“You handled him well,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize he was only an image earlier.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that. He’s a manipulative bastard.”

Rhys nodded, swallowing thickly. Even though Lena could tell he wanted to rush straight back to Feyre, he hesitated.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “You did well, and I’m proud of you.”

Lena did not bother trying to hide the effect of his words. She hugged him tightly, unbothered by the blood on her leathers she was transferring onto his pristine suit. He would undoubtedly magick it away when he went to Feyre and Tarquin.

“Go,” she repeated, voice thick with emotion.

Rhys vanished in a flash of darkness that mirrored her own. Alone on the blood stained ship, Lena took a deep breath, reaching out with her magic until she felt Azriel and Cassian. They were moving the injured up the hills above Adriata to where they would likely set up camp.

With one more breath, Lena winnowed to them.

~~~~~

Azriel had one arm hooked under an injured Illyrian’s shoulder, carrying most of the male’s weight as they made their way up the hill. The soldier was moaning in pain, his free hand pressed against his abdomen to hold in his innards.

Azriel shifted his hold to take on more of his weight as they neared the crest.

“Almost there,” he murmured.

Darkness flashed next to them and Azriel felt as though his heart had turned to ice as Lena appeared covered in blood from head to toe. He began to breathe again when he realized it wasn’t her blood she was covered in.

With no more than a quick glance at Azriel’s person to make sure he was alright, Lena shouldered her way under the soldier’s other arm, shushing his groan of pain.

“Hey, hey, you’re going to be alright,” she said to him in a soothing voice, pressing her own hand against the male’s shredded abdomen as well. The male cursed her, but she paid no mind.

The trio reached the top of the hill, handing the injured male off to another able soldier. Azriel turned to face Lena, a line between his eyes as he beheld her.

“You’re alright?” she asked, scanning him from head to toe.

He nodded. “You?” He could not tell if any of the blood was hers. He could tell, however, that the scar across her face was significantly more predominant.

“I’m fine,” she brushed him off. “How many more are injured?” She turned to look down the side of the hill they had just ascended, seeing soldiers limping or being carried up. Cassian was yet to be seen.

“About a hundred if I had to guess.”

“And Cassian?”

“No serious injuries. He’s flying over the city making sure no one was left behind or mistaken for dead.”

He didn’t miss the way Lena flinched. Her chin bobbed as she swallowed thickly.

“What do you…” She turned back to him with wide eyes. “What do we do now?”

Azriel’s heart clenched as he beheld his mate. She was a killer through and through — but she was no soldier. This was new territory for her. The aftermath.

“We get the rest of the injured up the hill and set up camp. I’ll set up a tent to gather information, and then we will separate the injured based on severity.”

“And the… the dead?”

“We bury them. Individually. Cassian will visit their families in the coming days.”

Lena’s breathing was shaky, but she nodded with feigned confidence all the same.

“Then let’s get to it.”

~~~~~

Lena and Azriel immediately set into motion, alternating between carrying, winnowing, and flying the injured up the hill where the rest of the uninjured soldiers set up a camp.

Lena never flew, not wanting to startle any Illyrians with the brands on her wings, but she did winnow many, which tended to startle them just as much. She thought ahead enough to glamour the color of her eyes so that no one might suspect her relation to Rhys and jump to conclusions — no matter how correct those conclusions might have been.

The sun quickly fell, and fires were started, casting a red glow over the wounded. Lena, along with Feyre and Mor, bustled around the camp and helped wherever needed. She stitched wounds, held in innards, wiped away blood, and more.

Azriel had set up his tent to gather various facets of information from soldiers right away, so Lena did not see him after that. Hours passed swiftly, the air tinged with copper and moans of pain that mixed in with the crickets chirping in the night.

This was a side of violence that Lena had never seen before. The aftermath of battle. She had always killed and then typically left before her victim’s body had even hit the ground. Never had she been a part of something so big. So painful.

It soon dawned on her the responsibility weighing on her brothers even in the midst of this aftermath. The soldiers looked to Rhys wherever he was near as he made rounds through the camp, and persevered through their pain as Cassian offered them words of encouragement. She knew her brothers must have been tired and in pain themselves, but they never wavered.

As the hours carried on and the more severely injured struggled to make it through the night, Lena sought out the worst wounds personally. Hybern must have had another stash of faebane beyond the one that she and Azriel had destroyed weeks prior, for many injuries were untreatable with magic because the weapons used against them had been tipped in the drug.

But Lena could offer comfort and ease. She knew how to soothe, how to take away pain. The ones that could not be saved she could help go peacefully into the night.

In using this magic though, she became distracted, losing sight of the glamour on her eye color. The violet of her eyes that clearly matched Rhys’s combined with the blood on her face sweating off had whispers spreading across the camp.

“…eyes like the High Lord’s…”

“…magic like his…”

“…I thought she died…”

“…she must be a spirit…”

“…Daughter of the Night Court…”

Lena paid no heed, not thinking anyone would actually believe that she was the long dead heir come back to the fold. She focused on the injured, pushing past her own fear and exhaustion.

It was a few hours before dawn when one of the soldiers grabbed her wrist in an iron tight grip as she knelt at his side.

“You’re going to be alright,” she whispered, resting her hand at his temple and allowing peace to come over his mind. Her power was weaning but she still had plenty left. “Shh, just rest.”

“You’re her,” the male choked out, his eyes slowly dulling as his mind adjusted to the peace she offered him. “You’re the Daughter of the Night Court. Your eyes are just like his.”

“Rest,” she repeated, wishing he wouldn’t push himself so much. “Don’t worry about who I am.”

“I saw you fighting. Down there.” That gave Lena pause. “You saved us. We were done for until you came.”

Lena swallowed thickly. “I’m sure you would have been fine without me. You are going to be fine.”

The male shook his head, licking his cracked lips as he tried to stay awake. “No, you came for us. You came for us, you…came for…us.”

The male’s head rolled to the side as he fell unconscious. Lena panicked for a moment until she realized it was only the exhaustion that had taken over him, and his pulse beat steadily.

She took a deep breath, standing to her feet as she tried not to show how the man’s words had affected her.

“Hey.”

Lena whirled at the sound of Cassian’s voice. She had only caught his eye once in passing since the camp had been set up. She had never seen him so… worn.

She surged forward and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders tightly. He returned the embrace without hesitation.

“You should get some sleep. You’ve done more than enough,” he said softly into her ear.

Lena chuckled, pulling back and smiling softly at him. “You should take your own advice, General.”

He tried and failed to muster a grin of his own.

“They’re all talking about you. Half of them think you’re a ghost.”

“Yeah, well,” Lena glanced around the camp at the sleeping soldiers, “so much for keeping a low profile about my return from the dead.”

Lena gestured for Cassian to walk over and sit below a tree with her. As soon as they were both off of their feet they sighed in unison.

“I never thought that was a good idea anyway.”

Lena lifted her head from the tree trunk, blinking at Cassian. “Never thought what was a good idea?”

“Keeping it a secret that you were back,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “The ones out there that don’t think you’re a ghost haunting them are encouraged by your return. They already had respect for the one fighting alongside them down there,” he gestured to the city, “but then realizing that the one that saved so many of them was a royal heir that defied death itself? That means something to them. It gives them pride in their Court leaders where there’s usually only contempt.”

Lena was silent, her brow furrowed in thought. Cassian leaned his head back against the tree trunk, eyes slipping shut. Within seconds, he was asleep. Lena chuckled weakly, touching his arm gently and winnowing him inside his tent on the other side of the camp.

Stepping back out into the cool night air, Lena looked to Azriel’s tent. She stepped over a few sleeping soldiers, calling out her mate’s name softly as she reached the entrance.

“Come in.”

Azriel was standing over a small table filled with notes, his shoulders tense and the bags under his eyes prominent even from where she stood. He did not bother to try and force a smile as he looked up at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he whispered back, his head drooping forward once again and eyes slipping shut.

“What can I do?” she asked, walking to him slowly and covering his hand with her own. The siphon there was dull — only a flicker of blue swirled beneath her fingertips.

“Nothing,” he assured her, leaning into her as she rested her head against his shoulder. “This is enough.”

“You need to rest.”

“I know,” he replied, turning and pressing his lips to her forehead. “You do, too. I heard the soldiers talking about you down there. And Rhys showed me what happened with the King.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “You should sleep.”

“I will. I just… I think ou need to know what happened in Vallahan.”

Azriel leaned back, staring down into her violet eyes — dull with exhaustion. He nodded, silently leading her to his small cot. They sat side by side, hands grasped tightly.

“Jareth agreed to help us,” Lena said, her voice weary but firm. “He has given us the full support of his army when the true battle arrives, but not before.”

Azriel absorbed the information with his full attention, asking questions about the size of Vallahan’s army, where they would be located, the best ways to contact Jareth when the battle arrived. Lena answered to the best of her abilities, focusing on the logistical rather than the emotional side of her visit.

“And Jareth, was he…” Azriel hesitated, “did he try to hurt you?”

“No,” Lena said with a weak smile. “He wasn’t thrilled to see me or find out who I really was, of course, but… we worked things out. The best way people with our kind of history can, I suppose.” She looked down at their hands, running her fingers through the weak shadows rippling across Azriel’s wrists.

“What is it?”

“While Jareth and I were sorting things out, I… I realized something.” She took a deep breath. “Our bond is… overwhelming to me sometimes. Since the moment it kicked in, I’ve had this sort of… tunnel vision when it comes to you. What you said to me yesterday was all so true. The person that I was before would have never killed so many innocent people — not even for you.”

Silver lined her eyes, tears coming easily considering the tired state she found herself in. “I loved you too much, Azriel. My feelings for you got distorted in my mind and I did so many horrible things that I told myself was out of love, but was really only out of… selfishness. And I hope you’ll understand how sorry I am that I did those things in your name. And seeing this battle today,” she laughed weakly, turning her head as she wiped away her tears, “it just reminded me that this is all so much bigger than me and you. And I’m sorry I didn’t see that for such a long time. I’m truly sorry.”

Azriel squeezed Lena’s hand tighter, leaning over and pressing his lips to her forehead firmly, lifting his other hand to rest against her cheek. She leaned into his scarred palm as more tears fell.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin.

“I love you, too.”

They sat like that for a few more silent moments, holding each other tight. With a deep breath, Lena leaned back and smiled, her eyes just the slightest bit brighter than before.

Suddenly her eyebrows rose as if in shock.

“What is it?” he asked, his muscled body tensing.

“I forgot,” she said quickly, rotating her torso to reach into the inner pocket of her leathers. “I might have taken something from the Vallahan trove that was… a bit too interesting to simply pass by.”

“Lena,” Azriel tried to scold, but he was so tired it carried no real bite.

“You heard Elain when she had that vision the other day,” Lena said simply. “She told me to take the mirror. Her exact words were, ‘you have to take the mirror.’ So... I took the mirror.”

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He wanted just one day where his mate did not do something that made his anxiety rise higher than the Illyrian Steppes.

“Here it is,” she said, finally pulling out the mirror fragment that whispered to her with a new kind of magic she had never felt before.

Azriel narrowed his eyes, taking the fragment in his hand. He turned it back and forth, observing the reflection on both sides.

Lena watched as well, the whispers from before emerging louder and louder with each passing second. It didn’t whisper words, but rather… feelings. Experiences. The mirror told her of another world similar to their own, but… not quite the same. It spoke of a helper, a friend of the truest kind, a—

“It’s just a mirror.”

Lena blinked, startled out of her reverie. “Wait, what? You don’t… you don’t hear it?”

“Hear what?” Azriel asked, looking at her oddly. “Lena, I don’t hear anything. I don’t feel any magic from it at all.”

“That’s not… that doesn’t make any sense. I can hear it, like it’s speaking to me right now. Well not with words exactly but… with feelings almost.”

Lena waited for the judgment, for the placating pat on the shoulder to assuage her.

But Azriel did neither of those things. He only listened, nodded, and looked back to the mirror with curiosity.

“Perhaps it has individualistic magic. It picks the person to share its power with. In this case, you.”

Lena smiled softly. “You believe me?”

Azriel lifted his eyes to her incredulously. “Of course. We don’t lie to each other.”

Lena felt the bond between them grow tighter, renewed with more shadows and darkness between them. She smiled as he looked back to the mirror.

“What did Jareth say about it?”

She faltered. “Well, you see, about that…”

“Lena.”

“It was nothing, really. He said something along the lines of... power unheard of and vanishing and... I don’t remember it all, I wasn’t paying much attention at that point.”

Azriel blinked slowly. “Tell me again why you took this?” He held up the mirror.

“Elain told me to!”

“And you’re choosing to trust the untrained seer?”

Lena thought for a split second. “Yes.”

Azriel loosed a breath that spoke of long-suffering, dropping his head into one hand and extending the mirror fragment back to Lena with the other.

“Please, for the love of the Mother, don’t get hurt trying to use that thing. I can’t handle it, Lena, I can’t. I can’t lose you, especially not right now.”

“Hey,” Lena surged forward, placing her hand on his cheek and lifting his face to hers, “I’m not going anywhere.”

~~~~~

The sun was just about to make its ascent and Lena lay wrapped in Azriel’s arms on his cot. He had fallen asleep immediately once they had finally lay down, but Lena had only got a couple hours of rest before waking up once more.

The mirror fragment in her pocket continued to speak — to call to her.

Lena had been around dark artifacts before. The King of Hybern loved to have them and to use them in various instances. She knew what cruel magic felt like.

And this mirror felt nothing like that. It felt… light. It felt almost like family. Not greedy or unkind. It only held promises of compassion.

But the small voice in the back of her mind — which Azriel would likely call Common Sense — told her that might be the dark magic’s play at work.

Regardless, she could wonder no longer.

Silent as the night itself, Lena winnowed into the woods far enough to hear if someone shouted her name, but not so far as to be heard herself.

With a deep breath, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the mirror fragment. She turned it on each side, feeling the whispers grow louder and louder.

“Well what do you want then?” she murmured.

She turned the mirror once more, and that was when a dark, onyx colored eye appeared.

Lena yelped, dropping the mirror in her shock. And as it fell to the ground, with every turn of the shard she saw that eye looking directly back at her.

When it hit the forest floor, Lena vanished within.

~~~~~

Lena knew she was no longer in Prythian, or in… anywhere, really. It felt too different. The air itself was different, it was almost as though she didn’t even need to breathe.

Nothing was around her. Nothing at all — only empty space.

And yet she felt no panic. No fear or anxiety. She was able to recognize that something had happened and she did not now how to get back to her home or her family, but yet… she was unafraid.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice coming back to her in an echo. “Hello!”

She received no reply. She looked all around, but was met with nothing and no one.

Lena felt his presence before she saw it. She turned slowly, somehow knowing that she was going to be met with those onyx eyes she had seen back in the forest before vanishing within the shard.

A wolf stood before her. Its fur was white and spotless, its eyes that dark onyx she knew to expect. It stood watching her, clearly as curious as she was.

“Hello?” she called out to the wolf softly.

The wolf seemed to… smile.

And then suddenly before her was no longer a wolf. Now there stood a male, tall and incredibly built, with bronze skin and curly golden hair. He smiled wide, canines showing. His ears were pointed like hers.

His eyes were onyx as the white wolf’s had been.

“Hello to you, too,” the male said, his lips quirking upwards in an amused grin.

Lena cocked her head to the side, noting in the back of her mind that she should feel much more defensive and on her guard with this stranger than she did. What sort of magic was in this mirror?

“Who are you?” she asked carefully.

The male chuckled and extended his hand.

“I’m Fenrys. And you are?”

~~~~~

#acomaf #acowar #acomaf fanficiton #azriel #acowar fanfiction #IM BAAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKK #what did yall think #did i return in glory or fail spectacularly #i know my readership is going to be DRASTICALLY lower than the 150 or so i typically had for each chapter a year ago but #maybe theres some of yall out there reading this #and maybe that cliffhanger will generate some more interest #please like and reblog and all the things #i love reading tags on reblogs btw its like my favorite thing #ive lovedlovedloved gettting back into this story #and drop in my asks if ya feel like it pls #leave reactions or just say hi or something idk #what if nobody reads this #mmmk bye then

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