Dark Light

7. The Light That Wasn't

Your chair rattled as the door blew to smithereens, and then a heartbeat later, liquid ribbons of night and starry darkness wrapped around your right hand, extinguishing the fire. In the chaos and confusion, someone dropped the matches, and then the air hummed with magic — right before the male fey screamed for mercy.

You flinched when fresh blood splattered across your right arm and the side of your face.

And then — you wanted to be relieved at the sight of Feyre crouching in front of you, but you couldn't react, couldn't speak. Your mind had boiled itself down for self-preservation.

Her mouth moved as she sliced through your restraints, but you couldn't hear her, and even though you were freed seconds later, you didn't move — couldn't move. You were devoting the rest of your energy to focusing on your right hand that had just been on fire. Which was still blanketed with palpable night.

"(Y/n)."

You looked up and saw Azriel wearing the armor from your dreams and first encounter. And even though he was covered in blood from head to toe, his seven blue stones swirled with individual tempests, flickering, just seething for release.

You opened your mouth to say something, but words eluded you.

When you looked at your hand again, it was in silent horror as the darkness melted away.

You thought the fire would return, so you braced yourself, but when it didn't—

Every muscle in your body groaned and then gave up.

You hugged yourself to hide your hands.

Azriel sheathed his swords as he took Feyre's place by your knees.

"(Y/n)."

You sniffled as you regarded the beautiful planes of his bloodied, golden brown face. Much like the stones, something ancient and unapologetically violent lurked behind his yellow-green eyes, and even though it should've scared you, it didn't.

He extended a scarred hand until it hovered over your blood-splattered lap; without missing a beat, you took it.

"You came," you said hoarsely. Now that you were safe, your throat tried to work around normal words and not desperate pleas for mercy.

Azriel's brow twitched. "Of course I did."

You hiccuped through a breath. "I just— I thought— What I said before— I need to leave. I need light."

"Can I pick you up?"

You only nodded in response because you were holding back sobs.

People around you started to speak, but you ignored them as Azriel wedged an arm under your stiff legs and back. When he lifted you, you wound your arms around his neck and then buried your face there, not even caring about the blood.

"We're going back to the river house," Azriel said to someone. "Keep a few of them alive."

He started to leave, but you whispered Rolant's name.

Azriel stopped short by the door, turning to the side. "Did you get that?"

"Yeah." That was Cassian.

Azriel left without another word, weaving through the dark halls, and then you were airborne, flying over the Hewn City. For a few minutes, it sounded like you were in a tunnel, and then — you heard the summer wind as it danced across the face of the mountain.

You knew you were finally back outside when the night air gave you a thousand balmy kisses. Then and only then did you pull away from Azriel's neck to bask in the light — the moonlight.