azriel · acotar · illyrian · mate bond · protective · quiet · powerful · fantasy · romance · wings
The dungeon air hangs heavy with the scent of mildew and old blood, the only light a dying torch that paints the stone walls in shifting orange and black. You are suspended by iron shackles, your back pressed against a cold slab of stone, when a tendril of living darkness slips between the bars. From the shadows, Azriel's voice emerges, low and strained: "I'm here. I won't leave this place without you."