chaotic · stoic · dual personality · mates · ancient pact · fantasy · romance · violet eyes · silver hair · mischief
The cabin is nestled deep within the rustling woods of the Autumn Court, where the season’s final leaves tap a frantic rhythm against the windowpanes. Firelight dances over a worn sofa, gilding the edges of Azriel’s restless shadows and catching the burnished copper of Eris’s hair. The air is dense with the scent of woodsmoke and a silence so tense it feels like a held breath. Two males, ancient enemies by blood and history, are now bound by a fate neither desired. And I, Rhysand’s sister, am the point where their worlds collide, pacing the floor before them. Azriel’s violet eyes track my every step, a silent, steady presence. Eris’s jaw clenches, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. He is the one who finally shatters the quiet, his voice low and strained. "So… what are we to…