Acotar and Tog [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

You Are My Salvation

We made our trek back down the mountain mostly in silence. Since the laws of the island demanded we forgo magic to get to the Prison, the same principles applied to leaving it. So back on our feet and down, down, down we went.

Feyre must have known I would explain everything when we returned and indeed, the silence gave me a good long while to think. About what the Carver had said. And what this meant moving forward.

Pieces I’d long since thought on started stitching together in my mind - different courts and magic and lands we would have to visit, have to manipulate and hopefully not destroy to get to the ultimate goal of finishing the Cauldron.

Each lick of the wind as we stepped through dirt and sweat was a promise we would fight hard to see those goals through.

I scented my clingy band of misfits before we’d barely finished winnowing to the rooftop of the townhouse. Feyre had held me a little tighter than normal as we whipped through the air, but she stood of her own accord when I let go.

“Amren’s right,” I announced, taking a patient lean against the door frame of my sitting room, eying everyone sprawled about the room. “You are like dogs, waiting for me to come home. Maybe I should buy treats.”

In truth, I was grateful they were there. I didn’t feel like wasting any more time or energy going up to the House of Wind and Feyre looked a little worse for wear taking a seat by the fire, savoring every flicker and flame it gave it.

Cassian flipped me off with Mor looking a little impatient by his side. Azriel kept nothing but shadows for company by the window. The anticipation radiating from the three of them was palpable.

Feyre seemed to want nothing to do with it, her back turned away from them, but... I knew she was listening, in her own quiet way while demons chased at her as surely as my own did for me.

“How’d it go?” Mor finally asked.

“The Bone Carver,” I said, watching Feyre and keeping casual to stem that rising sense of dread I felt, “is a busybody gossip who likes to pry into other people’s business far too much.”

“But?” Cassian sounded impatient. And indeed, his wings shook at his back.

“But he can also be helpful, when he chooses. And it seems we need to start doing what we do best.”

Silence.

And three strained glances on three very important faces.

And as always, never one to shy away from the worst of it, Azriel pushed forward, clearing the way through his shadows to confront reality. “Tell us.”

The last thing I heard before diving into our day was Feyre’s deep breath by the fire. She didn’t turn around to look at us the entire time we talked. Not once.

I avoided Feyre’s own personal details as I explained, as Azriel questioned, as Cassian sat back and swore internally. Mor said little herself, chewing her lip instead and watching Azriel carefully each time he spoke, like she could see the threads of his carefully laid groundwork weaving together behind those hazel eyes she drowned in day after day.

“I’ll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where their half of the Book of Breathings is hidden,” Azriel said when it seemed my tale was over. “I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they’re keeping their part of the Book before we ask them for it.”

“No need,” I said, and shook my head definitely. “And I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room. Save for Amren.”