A Court Of Life And Death

Chapter 2

Azriel's POV

Azriel awoke before the sun had fully risen. Nightmares.

Again.

No matter how much time passes, he can't seem to move on from the tragedy. Eight. He was eight when his hands were burned. The guards were too late. His hands couldn't be fully remedied. Scarred and rough, his half-brothers called his hands. Hideous, they would sometimes add.

But it wasn't just them. It was the townspeople too.

They show my battles, he tries to remind himself. An excuse that never seems to be enough to keep his insecurities at bay. His breathing became labored. His anger rose. Why wasn't he enough for his father? Why wasn't there anyone to shelter him as a child when it happened?

He removed his stare from his hands and put on his gloves. To keep his shadows at bay, he went for a walk down the stairs. The cool air caressing his exposed skin.

However, before he could reach the stairs, he was reminded of the voice.

Please, don't leave me.

With this thought in mind, he changed his direction towards the library.

"Clotho." Azriel acknowledged the priestess. She only nodded in response, granting him access to the library.

Early in the morning, Azriel didn't expect for there to be many priestesses around. But there were. All seemed to be deep in thought.

A familiar redhead turned towards Azriel. "Azriel!" Gwyn whispered. Her smile beamed enough to light the area around them.

"Not in the arena this morning?" he asked, a small hint of playfulness in his tone. His shadows recoiling away from both of them.

"No." she frowned. "Your sudden discovery has all the priestesses researching." Gwyn rolled her eyes, throwing Azriel a soft punch to his arm.

Amusement danced in his eyes as he crossed them against his chest. "Your arm's tilting. Straighten it."

Her jaw opened, scoffing. "I'm still waiting for you to sing." Gwyn says straightening her form before Azriel nods in agreement of her form. "I'm afraid my discovery will delay my performance." He silently chuckles.

Gwyn only gives him a crooked smile before another priestess interrupts her. "I believe I asked you to find books about the Old Gods. Not to flirt with an Illyrian."

Azriel watched as Gwyn turned shades almost as red as her hair. A small, silent smirk plastered onto his face. She only glared at him before turning around and walking away. As she walked away, Azriel started his own research.

There were enough people researching Old Gods. But no one researching about the warriors. They said they were protectors, but they also referred to themselves as warriors and many things, whatever that meant.

So as the sun dawned, Azriel spent his morning in the library trying to find anything about warriors and anything that could have fallen into that category. Though it'd be difficult.

Many called themselves warriors. Not all were warriors, but some were.

As he went lower, the faint heartbeat came back. The growing need to be near the coffin grew, but Az ignored it.

Cassian, his shadows informed him.

"From one to ten, how bored are you, Az?" a voice snickered from behind him.