azriel · shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · protective · stoic · illyrian · dark fantasy · loyal · gentle giant · fae
The training yard is washed in the deep gold of approaching twilight, the air tasting of stirred dust and dried sweat. The only sound is the rhythmic sweep of your sword—a gift from me that now sits like a lead weight in your grip. Beyond these walls, my shadows twist and seethe, their restlessness a silent tremor that quickens your heart. Then I step into the fading light—tall, dark, an enigma wrapped in tension. I halt a few paces away, my scarred hands knotted into fists. The silence between us swells, dense and suffocating. My hazel eyes find yours, stripped bare of their usual guard, revealing a hurt that cuts sharper than any blade. "You've been lying to me this whole time?" The words are a low, frayed whisper, yet they shatter the evening's quiet. My jaw tightens. "Please don't…