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replenaryindulgence · 2 months

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Before the Light

Azriel x Calida (ka-lee-duh)/Reader

Summary: After getting lost in the woods on a camping trip and finding herself in an unfamiliar land, 22-year-old Cal must decide what she's willing to do to get back to her life if she still wants it.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Panic, creepy guy in the woods

a/n: I know there’s a lot of backstory, I promise it’s worth getting through! I really wanted to set the stage and for you to get to know our MC.

I didn't intend for this to be so long, but d*mn my little hamster brain kept running on that wheel!!! The MC's name might seem a little strange, it's of Irish origin & I thought it was pretty and unique. Also, she's a redhead because so am I and me plus Azriel equals two (iykyk). Plz let me know what you think! Thinking about throwing in a slight love triangle moment with Morrigan eventually because how dramatic would that be & because our reader might be a little bi aren't we all? Strap in!!!

I'll try to update this as soon as I can! It might be a week or so. (P.S. my asks are always open! Thanks for bearing with me while I relearn how to use tumblr lol)

Chapter 1

“I don’t think we’re doing this right. No, definitely not, this piece is supposed to bend across that one.”

“You suck at this An,” Jack threw back.

“I suck at this? You didn’t get it right either asshole,” Annie quipped.

You shook your head, amused by the twins struggling to put together the first tent. The ground beneath the large pines was littered with dried needles, perfect for kindling. Circling around, you collected them into your jacket pocket.

“You hearing this, Cal?” Jack called out to you.

Turning to face your friends, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You guys are ridiculous,” You threw back, reaching for a small pine cone at your feet and rolling it in your palm.

You walked back and tossed your growing pile of fire-starter near the center of the clearing. It was still a few hours from dusk, but the hike had been long and you were eager to set up and be done with it. Jack and Annie were tasked with the tents while Brooke gathered rocks for the fire pit and scouted the area, something about checking for bears. A ridiculous idea, you had thought, though if you trusted anyone here with your life it was probably Brooke. Your guess was she wanted to get away from the bickering for a while.

The sweat from the hike still clung to your skin, sitting sticky and uncomfortable beneath your jacket. It’s much cooler now than it had been on the trip in. You touched the back of your hand to your nose to warm it. The sun’s rays peeked through the ever-rising pines, and you welcomed the sparse heat. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back and let the afternoon look at you. Your feet shuffled slightly until light touched your face, and vibrant red filled your vision from behind closed lids. This moment reminded you of being a kid, observing and learning about the world around you. You tried to remember the last time you felt peace like you did now. It seemed as though no matter how hard you tried to clutch it, life slipped quickly through your fingers like sand. The years passed and suddenly, nothing was the same. But, this moment felt still; the sun was warm, and the lake welcomed you back with familiar hands.

”You’ve been a real help,” Jack whispered, startling you. His arm brushed yours, you smiled at the sky.

“It’s nice that we’re staying out here. I love the cabin, but I think we could all use the seclusion,” you responded, meeting his eyes. He nodded back, folding his arms. Brown hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat.

“Seclusion, huh?” He teased.

“Seclusion, isolation, freedom from the expectations and burdens of society,” you replied dramatically.

“Okay, Thoreau, can we get some help sorting through the bags?” He questioned.

Before you could respond, you saw movement beyond the trees. Brooke approached and Jack walked over to help her with the arm full of small rocks she carried.

“No sign of bears,” she stated shortly. “Only one tent? I’ve been gone for twenty minutes.”

Brooke wasn’t angry, she just had a way about her. A way that was quick to say what was on her mind, and without much thought to how it would be taken. You learn to let it roll off of you when you’ve known someone for years. She’d been your and Annie’s suitemate freshman year. As a sensitive person, you found her bluntness unpleasant, but Annie liked her, and eventually, you came around.

You’ve known Jack and Annie longer than you can remember. Your parents were once very close; you’d spend weeks out of the year at their cabin just east of the lake. When your parents divorced it got ugly and uncomfortable, like a festering wound, until neither of them came back to the cabin. You were grateful for that. The cabin, the lake, it remained a place untouched by the crumbling debris of your parents’ failed marriage. Jack’s mom had pulled you aside and assured you that you’d always have a place with them. You knew she meant it. Mrs. Henley, Ruth, was a soft-spoken woman, but always sincere.

The cabin was almost two hours from the water by car, if cabin was the right word for it. You never talked about how much money the Henleys had, and they didn’t seem to care what your family had in comparison. The twins’ Dad, Eric, ran a few publishing companies in Washington, one in Oregon. After graduation, Mr. Henley lined up an internship for you as an editorial assistant, and asked you to persuade Jack to stay in Washington and work for him. A fruitless task, you were sure. Jack was over living out west, he wanted to travel the states, maybe move abroad for a while. No entry level job at his Dad’s company would sway a 22 year old from the intrigue of adventure.

A month ago, Annie suggested we spend these last few weeks before the fall, fully together. Camping was never your favorite, but you couldn’t say no to Annie. Not when you knew she was right. After graduation, you’d spent the summer mostly together, in your apartments in Seattle, at the Henley’s house in the city, or at the cabin. It felt right, it felt how it always did. But now, the discomfort of change was more tangible, less abstracted by time. Jack was talking of moving east with a friend you’ve known since high school and Brooke was heading to Alaska for grad school. Lucky for you, Annie didn’t seem in a rush to solidify plans, besides staying in the city. Who could blame her, with parents like that?

You joined Annie in the one set-up tent, helping her spread a blanket over one of the thin camping mattresses. You worked silently, unpacking a small pillow, another blanket, and hooking a portable light onto where the poles crossed inside the tent.

“You don’t need my permission, you know,” Annie said, breaking the silence.

You furrowed your brows. “Permission? For what?” You continued looking through the bags, setting one aside and adjusting the blanket beneath you.

"With Jack," She said, smiling at your confused look as she grabbed a bag of peanut M&M’s from her bag. She tilted her head back, letting a few fall into her mouth.

You didn’t know what to say. “It’s not like that,” you assured.

”It’s always like that,” she smiled at you, offering the sweets in her hand.

You took them, rolling your eyes. Annie assumed everyone was in love. You were definitely a romantic, but you also knew what disinterest looked like. You and Jack had shared a few lingering touches and almost-moments on drunken nights, but it didn’t sway you to gamble your friendship on the possibility that he was interested in anything serious. You were content wondering what could have been. You were typically more fond of fiction, anyway.

“Annie, come help me finish setting this up,” Jack called. She smiled at you once more before disappearing from the tent. You laid back, thankful for the swift death of the conversation.

…

The second tent was up much quicker than the first. You had organized them; Annie and Jack’s bags in one, Brooke’s and yours in the other. A small pile of sticks and pine needles glowed atop a circle of rock in the center of the camp. Jack and Brooke had found a small log and somehow managed to carry it over. You sat on it with Jack, rubbing your neck, the ghostly weight of your bag on your shoulders. You tried to pack light, but you brought a few books along; a mystery about a kidnapping that took place at a summer camp, some fairy book Brooke had suggested, and, possibly, one too many sweaters, which added some weight.

The sun was setting now, teasing the horizon with a gentle touch, and although it meant the temperature would plummet, you were eager for sleep. The heels of your feet ached, your calves felt stiff, and you were sure you needed to drink more water.

Brooke poked at the fire while Annie was engrossed in her phone, probably looking at pictures she'd taken on the hike in. You and Jack shared dried mango slices while you searched the shared playlist Brooke made for the trip. All Things End by Hozier began playing, and you smiled absentmindedly at the memory of hearing it live.

"Everyone is so quiet," Annie said, interrupting the hiss of the crackling embers. She and Brooke sat on a blanket across from you.

“I’m exhausted,” You responded with a yawn, staring vacantly beyond the campground. You thought you could spot the glitter of sunset on the distant water.

“Let’s get in the lake,” she laughed. “The cold is supposed to be good for your nervous system, or something.”

The prospect of dipping into the lake woke your body slightly, sending a buzz down your spine. You liked the rush of adrenaline, the euphoria following it.

“I’m in,” you responded with a smile. Brooke looked behind her, towards the direction of the water, and back with a scrunched nose, but eventually agreed. You turned to Jack, he only groaned. Still, he stood, mumbling something about how men weren’t built for cold water. Tell that to the Vikings, you thought.

You grabbed the thin towels from your tent, and headed towards the water.

…

Pebbles crunched beneath your boots. It was a short walk to the mouth of the lake, Brooke had chosen a good spot to camp. You quickly stripped them along with most of your clothes, leaving you in a thin bra and hiking shorts. You dipped one foot in the water, wincing at the temperature. Your friends stripped behind you, while you tried not to lose your nerve. Jack was taking pictures of the sunset from a few feet away, and you quickly slipped out of your shorts while he was preoccupied. Brooke and Annie took to your sides, and the three of you stood apprehensively at the edge of the lake, glancing over the water that expanded before you.

“It’ll be worse if we think too much about it,” Annie said, folding her arms to hold her body.

Brooke took a few brave strides and sank below the surface, cursing as she came up, before tilting her head back and letting the water caress her. Annie squealed before following suit. You blew out a huff of air, trying and failing to compartmentalize the chill in the water. When it got to your stomach your body shivered. No, this definitely wasn’t helping your aching muscles. You pressed on.

The water kissed your chest, then your shoulders. Finally, you gave in, dipping your head under. It wasn’t unbearable, but you weren’t sure you’d last long. You felt your pulse slightly in the back of your head as you swam under the surface. It had been almost 80 degrees today, but the water refused to acknowledge that. You broke the surface with a gasp, turning to face your friends who hovered near the edge of the lake. Why had you been so enthusiastic about this idea? You watched as Jack strolled over and dropped his clothes in a pile near the rest, quickly avoiding his gaze. Annie called out to him that it wasn’t so bad, and he shook his head in disagreement as he stood with the water just above his knees. He folded his arms, holding himself how Annie had. You stilled, lowering your head so your nose and eyes peaked just above the surface, and watched him sink further. You took a breath and sank below once more.

You had always loved the water. Brooke said it was biological, that it calmed something in the animal of us to be near it. When you were younger you pretended you were the half-blood offspring of Poseidon, counting how long you could hold your breath in it before your lungs felt like fire and you got light-headed.

You felt something touch your hand, and you lifted yourself from the water and your daydreaming. Jack had swum out, treading water as he watched the sun set over the mountains behind you. Water trickled down his face, gathering in his lashes, and his golden skin was cast in a reddish-golden light. He looked ethereal.

Turning, you faced the sunset. The sun lit the sky beyond the mountains in the most vibrant hues of red and orange. Where the darkening sky above you met the sun, pale shades of pink gathered. There was a good ten minutes of light left, and you thought that you’d never forget this moment. The beauty of it burned into your eyes. You saw it even as you blinked.

You broke the peaceful silence, "It feels like everything’s changing. I hate it." Change felt like putting on a new leather jacket. It chafed in all the wrong places.

He sighed, “Everything is changing. I for one am excited to leave this oppressive ass place.”

You thought of the vastness of the city, the lake that expanded before you, the mountains that climbed ahead, and wondered how anyone could call this oppressive. You knew he meant the people, but the city was big and it seemed like an excuse for wanting to leave. You stayed silent, sifting through your thoughts.

“Dad sure is glad you’re staying. At least one of us won’t disappoint him.” He added, wiping his short hair back from his face.

You laughed at the idea of his Dad ever being disappointed in either him or Annie. Their parents were unusually understanding people. Of course he wanted his kids close to home but he never was the type to force anyone’s hand. Sometimes, you thought Jack wanted a reason to brood.

“He wants you to stay, but I know he’ll live vicariously through you wherever you go, he’s an adventurer at heart. Maybe we can write about it when you get back,” you replied, smiling as you thought of the times you sat around their Dad’s faded armchair as he read you and the twins stories. He filled your minds with images of half-human creatures and monsters that swallowed ships whole. Of wars waged over beautiful women. Greedy dragons and cursed rings.

He replied with a smile and a ‘maybe’, and you pictured his portrait in the back of a travel book. ‘Everyone has a story to tell,’ His Dad had said to him years ago.

You heard laughter and splashing behind you as your friends jumped out of the lake.

“You’re just like him,” he added, nudging your arm underwater. You raised your brows in question.

He continued, “You should come with me. No author came up with anything interesting to say by staying put. New York, maybe Italy, or Ireland. You’d get plenty of inspiration there.”

“I want to be where the publishing action is,” you joke, “And I’m no storyteller, at least not yet.”

“Yeah right, you’re a natural,” He adds, “You’ve got an eye for it.”

You admired how sure Jack was. You liked how it felt to be near him, it put you at ease. He smiled and you could just picture late nights in the sticky bars of Dublin and Vespa rides along the coast.

Of course, you’d agree you had an eye for storytelling, otherwise you'd have wasted the last four years of your life. But, you didn’t have the option of relying on your rich parents for support as you found yourself at the Cliffs of Moher. The Pacific North-West was beautiful, you couldn't believe anyone would want to leave. You’d travel one day, maybe after you’d settled into your career. Until then, this would have to do. You looked out as the sun took its last breath, bowing to the mountains, passing its watch over to the moon.

“Let’s go, I’m freezing!” Annie called out from the shore.

"I’ll start dinner," Brooke added, attempting to shake the last of the water from her short hair.

You didn’t wait for Jack as you made your way to them. You hurried out, thankful for the thin veil of darkness as you dried off. Jack dressed beside you, his hair falling in short ringlets over his brows. He caught your eye and you pulled your towel over your head, hiding your face, and squeezing the lake from your hair.

…

The fire started quickly, and you ate slightly gummy re-hydrated pasta that Ruth made for the trip with her food dehydrator. You were sure this was the first time they’d used it. Shortly after dinner you fell prey to the lull of darkness and excused yourself with a ‘good night’ leaving your friends by the fire. The blankets in the tent felt damp. Great. Your sweats, thankfully, weren’t as bad. You fell asleep to hushed conversation, burrowing deep into your hooded sweatshirt.

You awoke to a sharp, shining light. Brooke was reading something next to you. How long had you been asleep? You hummed a greeting, burying your face further into your blanket, and sank deeply into the comfort of sleep.

The next day consisted of meals around the fire and a short hike to get a better view of the mountains. You trailed behind your friends, deep in thought as you failed to push away Jack’s suggestion that what you needed was travel. You thought of Bilbo refusing to leave the Shire.

Annie crept scarcely close to the edge of a boulder and you tried to hide your worried face while Brooke took her photo. They pulled you in for a group one, and you held tightly to Brooke as she captured your smiling faces.

The day seemed shorter than the one before, the sunset was more of a dulled pink, dimmed by low-hanging clouds. You made s’mores and failed at telling ghost stories around the fire before turning in early. You grabbed the fairy book from your bag, deciding the mystery should be read in the safety of daylight. You were on page 32 when Brooke joined you, crawling into the tent and kicking pine needles onto your blanket.

“I swear fantasy writers all had a meeting and committed to only writing weak, sex-depraved female leads,” You tell Brooke as she slips into her sleepwear.

“That or they become the best fighters and magicians all of a sudden. Can’t a girl just be a girl?” She adds.

You laughed in agreement and attempted to discuss the female archetype in fairy lands while she settled in. You pressed your legs to hers for warmth, and she opened a book about the history of the local tribes in Washington. Your thoughts drifted from the page, unable to comprehend the last paragraph of world-building you attempted to read twice, and you let your head fall back to your pillow. The serenade of cicadas filled your ears, and you tried to commit the sound to memory. A vision tugged at you, of laying on a porch swing in your mother's arms, listening to the cicadas call as she read to you from your book about flower fairies. You laugh at how little you’ve changed, and how much you’ve changed.

“My mom used to read me this fairy book when I was a kid. I’ve probably heard it a thousand times, and I swore I saw fairies in my backyard. My grandma told me if there was a ring of mushrooms, a fairy had been there and I looked all over the yard for them,” you admitted, the memory vivid and colorful in your mind.

“My brother and I used to build little homes for them out of sticks and leaves,” she added. You enthusiastically agreed, remembering sitting outside of your grandparents’ house arranging pieces of earth with your cousins. Hours content in the world of your imagination. You missed that part of yourself, the child in you. You thought of her as you drifted asleep.

…

The next day the sky was filled with thick puffs of soft gray clouds, the air cooler than it'd been a few days ago. You started the morning off slowly, accompanied by Annie as you laid on a blanket near the water and read. Lunch had been brought to the lake, the four of you determined to spend the whole day in this spot.

Hours later you sat, Jack at your side, and watched as Annie and Brooke swam further and further out. So far this week you’d gone hiking, swimming, read your books, and walked around looking at fauna. You weren’t sure what camping for a week looked like. The longest you’d camped out was two nights, and it was technically in the backyard of the twins’ house.

“What time are your friends getting here?” You asked Jack as you chewed the inside of your lip. He sat with his arms resting on his knees beside you.

"Mmm, around five I think," he responded, glancing at his watch.

A few of Jack’s friends were coming to camp for the rest of the week. They were nice guys, and you weren’t exactly feeling antisocial, but you wished it would have stayed just the four of you.

“Dylan’s bringing is his girlfriend I think,” he added.

You hummed in response. You liked her, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Mirroring Jack, you looked at your watch; 4:14. Wanting to spare yourself from awkward small talk and having to help set up tents, you decided you’d go for a run along the shore soon. The energy bites Brooke had made and the coffee you drank with lunch were making you restless, anyway. You sat with Jack a little longer, and at half past four you stood, slipping back into your shoes.

Jack laughed amusingly when you told him of your plan, seeing through your avoidant ploy, but he just reminded you to be careful and to be back before dark or they’d have to form a search party. You called out to Brooke and Annie and they both echoed a warning too. A ‘be careful’, and a ‘bring your charger just in case.’

Back at camp, you threw your small solar charger into your jacket pocket, along with a granola bar, and drank from your water bottle. Anxious thoughts filled your mind, though you weren’t sure why. You’d woken up slightly on edge this morning and chalked it up to the company arriving soon. The path you’d run would be easy and mindless, no reason to worry. You’d stick to the shoreline, and come back the same way long before it got dark; the shore near the camp would be unmistakable. You took a breath and willed your stomach to settle.

You tied your hair up, swinging it to your back, then wrapped your jacket around your waist and began jogging towards the water. You’d gotten a little addicted to running this past year. It trained your breathing and focused your mind, something you’ve been trying and failing to do all your life. In Seattle, you always ran the same four-mile route from your apartment to around the park and back. It took you a few weeks to map down the perfect path. Past the gift shop at the end of the block, steering clear of the traffic near the middle school a half-mile down, and along the widest sidewalk that led to the park closest to your apartment. You focused on your breath and willed your anxious mind to focus on your surroundings. The pines loomed above you, it almost made you dizzy to look at them. The water reflected the mood of the sky. You could see a small group of people kayaking in the water towards the East side of the lake.

One mile down.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. The trees thinned out near the edge of the lake and the view was stunning. You sometimes felt like you couldn’t fully experience how beautiful it was here, not in the moment. It would hit you on the way home or when you’d get your film back from being developed. You almost brought your camera but decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

Two miles down.

Stopping, you caught your breath as you snapped a photo with your phone, then slid it back into the band of your leggings and picked up your pace. Your mind drifted to the book you were reading.

Three miles down.

Your headphone cord swung annoyingly across your chest, and sweat started to prickle your forehead. A large boulder sat in your path and you swerved around it.

Shit. You threw your hands up on instinct, hitting something hard. Blinking for a moment, you steadied yourself. How had you not seen this tree? You brought your fingers to your face and winced as your eyebrow stung. Your eyes fell to the blood prickling the back of your hand. You felt it suddenly, the annoying ache of scraped skin and you cursed yourself for being unobservant. You looked at your watch with a sigh; 5:09. You tried not to let your injury annoy you as you turned to start the journey back towards camp.

Your heart sank. Head darting back and forth, then behind you. Eyebrows knit in confusion.

The lake was gone.

Ripping your headphones out, you scanned the forest before you. What the hell?

Okay, you thought, don’t freak out, don’t panic. Just think. Did you accidentally run further from the shore? You knew the lake was North and camp was West. You looked above you for the sun to verify, but the clouds had gotten even thicker. You scanned the forest confused, trying to find the boulder you had swerved just moments ago. How hard had you hit your head?

Shit. You grabbed your phone and opened the compass app to verify your direction, chewing on your lip nervously as it loaded. You sighed in relief, yes you were facing North. If you walked forward there’s no way you wouldn’t see the lake soon.

Goosebumps prickled your arms and neck. When did it get so cold?

Throwing on your jacket, you tucked your headphones into your pocket and gripped your phone anxiously. You took deep breaths and tried to settle the sick feeling in your stomach. You’d be fine.

You walked further and further North, anxiety creeping up into your body with each step. You settled into a light jog and searched for anything familiar. The minutes dragged on. The panic set in. You checked your watch again; 5:15. Keep going.

Darkness flashed suddenly in the corner of your eye and stopped you in your tracks. You swung your head toward where it’d appeared. Your ragged breathing broke the suffocating silence of the forest. Your anxiety screamed into your mind, animal, and all you could think of was Brooke’s comment about bears, but there was nothing. Just you and the never-ending expanse of trees. Did you have a concussion?

The wind howled behind you, and your body reacted before your mind. Shivers ran up your spine into your neck and you ran. Hopping over fallen branches and swerving between trees. The forest grew thicker, swallowing you whole. You felt your vision tunneling; you were panicking but you couldn’t stop moving. You spotted a clearing ahead and prayed to whoever was listening that it was the shoreline. A low-hanging branch scraped your shoulder as you reached the field. The field. Not the shore. Your eyes searched wildly.

The darkness appeared again, but stood still.

Not darkness, but pure blackness against the muted brown trunks of the forest. You turned to face it, and there, at the edge of the clearing stood a man in a black suit.

All thoughts left your mind. Something in your DNA clawed at you to run, but you stood, perhaps in shock, staring at this man before you. He was much taller than you, you could tell even through the distance, with golden skin and hair black as night.

Seemingly out of thin air, another man appeared by his side. Something covered him, or hung behind him, extending above his head. They looked like… What the hell? Was there a group of guys out here role-playing? Your head ached, this wasn’t happening, this had to be a hallucination, maybe from the injury and the anxiety.

The man in the suit took a step further into the clearing and slipped his hands into his pockets. You stood frozen at the edge of the clearing. He cocked his head to the side and squinted, seemingly assessing you. You thought of the group you saw kayaking and a small amount of hope hit you. Of course you weren’t the only people out here, you were bound to run into someone. You could ask for directions back to the lake. If they were playing make-believe in the forest that was their business. A woman with a long brown braid and a dark leather suit walked into view next and you took a calming breath. A woman.

You swallowed your panic but it stuck in your throat as you took a step forward and lifted your hand to wave. You hoped they didn’t see you shaking. There was a woman, yes, but the two men kept you at edge. Everything seemed out of place.

“Hey, sorry you startled me,” you began with a nervous laugh. “I was running along the shore but I went a little too far, do you know how much further North the lake is from here?” you inquired, heart beating in your throat.

No answer. The suited man looked to the woman next to him, and the man with the giant fake wings kept his arms held tightly at his thighs. Seconds passed.

“Your costumes are great,” you added, trying to sound at ease, and gesturing to the man’s wings. He took a step forward, but the suited man stopped him.

Time to go whispered into your mind and you managed a tight smile, as you took a few small steps away.

“Well, I better head back to my group,” you called out. You needed to put more distance between you. You needed to get the hell out of here.

You started to jog away, but something shot out into your path. You slammed to a stop. Another man, with shoulder-length brown hair half-tied up, clad in black leather gear and the same towering wings rising above his head stood before you. What the hell? He looked at you with creased brows, and glanced at the group of people to your right. He pressed his lips in a line, eyes darting back to you. Your heart raced; you felt like prey. Every hair on your body stood and every instinct told you to run, but the man in front of you was huge. At least six foot five.

You had to go. Whatever this was, you needed to remove yourself from it. They couldn’t run very fast with those things hanging on their back, anyway, right? You took a step back and glanced beside you. You could break for the trees and start heading West.

You began to move, but something stopped you like you'd run into an invisible wall. Whipping around, the suited man now stood before you, just feet away. Your eyes met his. They almost glowed an unnatural purple. He was handsome, they all were, which freaked you out even more. The man next to him looked at you sternly, like he was assessing a threat. What the hell is this?

"I need to get back to my friends, they’re waiting for me," you lied, straining to keep your voice even.

The man spoke back in a language you couldn’t understand. You tried to pick out familiar words but the dialect was too strange. It wasn’t Native, or any of the Latin languages from what you could tell. You looked to the woman who stood slightly further back, with pure plea written on your face. Her eyes softened and she spoke back in the unfamiliar language. She would help, you convinced yourself.

They conversed once more. You took a step back, but hands wrapped around your arms tightly, fingers digging into the sleeves of your jacket. You tried jerking them away, but the long-haired man held firm.

Panic now coursed through you in a dam-less stream. “Please, just let me go, what do you want?” you begged them all, looking to the woman once more. She and the suited man exchanged glances before turning to face you. So this is how you’d die, crossed your mind. What kind of sick game had you stumbled into?

The man spoke once more and took a step closer. You looked to the man at his side, the one with towering wings. His hazel eyes met yours. You searched his face, what you were looking for you didn’t know. Sympathy maybe? His jaw loosened slightly and he held your stare.

You turned to the purple-eyed man before you and pleaded again. He responded, nodding, but you didn’t understand. Tears filled your eyes. A scream pierced your ears. Your scream. It tore its way up your throat as a hot, white pain pierced your brain like a jagged knife. Your knees gave out, but the hands gripping you kept you upright. A golden-brown light filled your blurring vision. Your head fell back, heavy, and your mouth hung open in agony as your body finally gave in.

Darkness washed over you.

...

Ahhh! I'm so nervous to post this but so excited! Already getting started on Chapter 2. Sorry this was so long LMAO I just really wanted to set the scene for some hard-core angst.

#azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel angst #rhysand acotar #rhysand is a baddie #feyre archeron #cassian

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