A Court of Ice and Fire

Epilogue

They stood there, looking at the place where she had been just moments before.

Azriel had fallen to his knees the moment that barrier fell—his shoulders caving in on themselves and his body shaking as it was wracked with silent sobs. His shadows drifted at his feet, swirling in dark plumes.

His breaths were coming out in short gasps, his eyes continuously looking at the place in the grass where Dahlia had been crouched. She had disappeared when the invisible wall faded—her body misting away into nothing. Maybe it was a blessing. He didn't know if he could have handled looking into her unseeing eyes.

He felt empty—void. The bond that had been between them, the echoing beat of his heart had disappeared, leaving a giant hole where it had once been. Feyre clung to Rhysand with tight fists, her cheeks stained with tears.

The Cauldron was fixed—but at what price?

Mor had appeared, a bloodied and bruised Cassian hanging off her hip. They took one look at Azriel sobbing on the ground, at their High Lady who was weeping in Rhysand's arms and went completely still, wondering what in the seven hells had happened.

Azriel was at a war with himself—trying to convince himself that she wasn't gone, that the hole he felt wasn't from her being gone. She could come back, she had to come back. There was no other alternative for him, no other option. He clawed at that void inside him—tearing into it as he searched and searched for that missing piece...but he never found it.

Then the High Lords came.

One by one, they all circled the now whole Cauldron, the Cauldron that she had fixed. That she had given her life for.

A spark flickered in Azriel's heart as he looked at those High Lords who all wore false looks of pity and sadness, as if they could feel bad about her dying. "Bring her back." Azriel said, his voice low and broken.

Mor and Cassian both flinched upon hearing the sheer pain and anger in his voice—something they rarely heard from their friend.

"Bring. Her. Back." He repeated, his voice cutting through the air like a jagged knife. He lifted his head to look at the High Lords around him, all of them averting their eyes and avoiding his accusatory gaze. "You did it for her." He pointed a finger towards Feyre. "Now do it again. Bring her back."

Feyre raised her head from Rhysand's shoulder, swallowing thickly. "Azriel that's—"

"She's your sister!" He snapped, interrupting whatever she was about to say. "She would do anything for you—for fucks sake she already did! Bring her back!" Rhys stiffened at Azriel's venomous tone, his back straightening just a fraction.

"There's no body for us to bring back." Helion whispered quietly, his calm voice cutting holes into whatever hope Azriel still clung to.

Cassian looked away from the scene, not wanting to see his brother in pain, nor did he want to look at the place where Dahlia had given her life. "Well we just have to find it. Then we can—"

"Azriel, she's gone." Rhysand's voice was not lacking pain, and he winced when Azriel gave him a look of betrayal. He hated himself in that moment, for being unable to protect both his mate and his brother from this pain, but there was nothing he could do.

"We can use the Cauldron, find a fucking spell, anything. If it was Feyre, you would do anything." Rhysand winced again, imaging the roles switched.

The words were true—he would have done anything to get her back...but this time...there was nothing to do.

"Please...I can't-I can't..."Azriel looked around the circle, a panicked and pleading look in his eyes as he searched the faces of the group for a shred of hope. But none was found. A tense silence ensued as Azriel turned, his shoulders shaking as his shadows swarmed around him, threatening to consume him entirely.