Chapter XXII - Treacherous Woods

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The night sky was shrouded with dark clouds that moved and twisted into one another with the howling wind. The rain poured down onto Azriel, and he forced his way through, flapping his wings with as much strength as he could muster.

The eye of the storm, it was right there, high above him, where the clouds swirled together to form a whirlpool of mist and rain, thunderous claps of lighting zapping about.

He flew to it, fighting that instinct within him that screamed at him to give up, to turn back. But another part of him told him to go on, to fly high up where he knew danger awaited, where he knew one single bolt of lighting could strike him down.

But Azriel went on, even with the sound of the thunder threatening him to stop, even with the menacing flashes of light that illuminated the sky. And then, when the light struck and the clouds above him lit up, he saw it - the reason why he was so hell-bent on flying into that storm.

Wings, huge, wonderful wings, silhouetted by the clouds, illuminated by the flashes of light. Right there, at the very apex of the storm. And he could see that within that shadow of the wings, there was a figure, a person.

But before he could make sense of the apparition, there was another strike of lightning, he felt pain coursing through him, burning him up from the inside.

And then he fell, plummeted to the depths, crashing into the ocean with such speed that it felt as though all of his bones shattered-

Azriel woke up with a jolt.

He was panting, and he felt that his sheets were damp. He didn't know how long he had been trapped in such a nightmare, but it felt as though it had lasted throughout the entire night.

Azriel let out a sigh, throwing the sheets off of him as he made himself sit on the side of his bed. His hand wandered to his chest, floating above that spot between his ribs, as if he could almost touch that sensation of fear that had plagued his thoughts. He thought he would almost have gotten used to such reoccurring nightmares, but every time that he had them, he still felt just as afraid as the last.

And they were changing now, almost evolving, though he could never quite remember what they were about. He knew it was cold, he knew he was in danger, but at the same time, he never felt truly frightened by whatever happened in them. No, the fear didn't come from the subject of his nightmares, but it came from the frequency and the awfully strange sense of familiarity he felt within them.

Azriel shook his head, as if trying to shake that feeling loose. Sunlight flowed throughout the room, and he took in his surroundings.

Day Court, he was still there, after having spent the night tormented by his own imagination. Azriel looked out the window, at the sun that had risen into the sky, gaging what time it probably was.

Near to ten, probably, well past the early morning at least. Somehow, Azriel's nightmare had kept him asleep far longer than he thought it would have, even if it had felt so short.

And then a new thought emerged in his mind - Brianna. 

Just the thought of her name had him jump out of bed, wondering what could have happened to her between the time she had risen and now, when he had been fast asleep and out of his sight. For some reason, that tug in his chest compelled him to find out. That and the fact that he was still meant to be her guide, and technically not be apart from her in another court.

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