A Court Of Shadow and Blood

☆ Beginning of the End ☆

Azriel panted, his breath skittering along his face in a cloud of white that was quickly whipped away. He soared beneath the dark belly of the army that Eblis had won them, leading and following them as he'd been told to do before she'd left. Their armor glinted in the sunlight of midday, a mixture of faebane blue, night-black armor, and the rare flash of reds and cobalts from the siphons of his Illyrians. He wasn't sure if they were under the same spell the attors and Hybern soldiers were under, but they did not grumble or complain, but simply flew.

His eyes scanned the landscape. They were well over the boundary line of the Dawn Court, and though they were still immersed in high peaks of granite, he found that the sun was so much hotter, and the sky a vibrant, clear cerulean. A perfect sky for Illyrians; or, for that matter, the Peregryn's who inhabited the Court. He could only assume they hadn't been scouted out yet for lack of fighting people, given that, from the last update he'd been given, they were within the Winter Court. His friends, and any who followed after to save the rest of Prythian.

That had been that morning, an hour or so before Eblis had attacked. He'd yet to hear from them again, and almost worried something had gone wrong. His shadows were already ahead, scouring the Dawn Court for information.

His hazel eyes watched as the mountains thinned out, rimmed by trees, and expanded into a wide planes of undulating grass and fields of crops. No one was tending to the plants, and his shadows did not sense much movement within the few buildings, either. Soon, the farmland was replaced with a wall of glistening sunstone, which rimmed the great, burning city of Adalei. The streets were empty besides a few stragglers who staggered into cover quickly at the threat of the whale of soldiers weaving through the winds above him. Almost as soon as he thought it, there was a wave of silence within the already quiet city; a hush, a whisper that slid along his bones in warning.

He glanced up quickly, assured the soldiers were not stopping, that none dared to shift closer to the dwellings and buildings far below them. When he turned his eyes down again, his shadows hissed a low sound.

Bolts of white streaked up for them. He cursed.

Peregryns.

He felt the flush of his destructive power surge against his siphon like a living being, and he released it in controlled bursts of blue. The Peregryns dodged, gold and ruby armor flashing in the sunlight, their wings fluttering in the wind. The dark army sailed onward, unperturbed.

The soldiers before him numbered less than one hundred, perhaps all that was left behind in the surge of war that cascaded down Prythian's length. Still, they rose to meet Azriel bravely, and he had the startled moment of recognizing the person who led them.

"Zephyr," he called. Thesan's Peregryn lover and General.

The male paused a moment before taking his helmet of carved feathers and wings off. His pale hair shivered out in the wind, sweaty still, and his cold brown eyes found his. "Shadowsinger." They dipped their chins in mutual greetings, and Zephyr's tan hand reached out to halt his forces. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Reinforcements," he said curtly. Shadows weaved around his shoulders. "It's a long story. How is Adalei?"

Zephyr's eyes shifted. He said, with equal brusqueness, "It will take time to heal. I assume you and your...reinforcements are heading onwards."

Azriel nodded. "And I assume you were the contingent left to protect the city and people." His hazel eyes found the skies above them, clear of cloud or soldier. He hoped Eblis was safe. The thought rumbled away after a moment, and he turned his gaze downward, to the soldiers below him who hovered in place, their gold-white wings stirring the air. He raised his voice as he spoke. "There are no more forces going to attack here."