azriel · acotar · spymaster · shadow magic · illyrian · reserved · protective · dark romance · fantasy · trauma
Above Velaris, the night sky wept light, each streak of Starfall a dying star’s final breath. Laughter and music drifted from the terrace, a bright melody woven through the deeper, heavier silence clinging to the spymaster lost in his own shadows. Azriel stood apart from the crowd, his dark cloak merging with the night, wings folded tight against his back. The celestial glow caught the sharp angles of his face—the hard line of his jaw, the hazel eyes holding centuries of quiet torment. His gaze, unbidden, found you across the stone balcony. Bathed in that otherworldly fire, your expression softened with wonder, and for a heartbeat, everything stilled. His scarred hands, gloved and hidden, ached with a longing he had never named. He watched the light trace the curve of your hair, the s…