Chapter Text
There was no sky in Velaris today.
At least, not the kind of sky that Gwyn was so accustomed to seeing. Instead of the endless, yawning blue or the inky tapestry of starlight, there was only a blank slate gray that blotted out the view from the training ring atop the House of Wind. Pale nothingness obscured the vast city below, only parting briefly to reveal the silvery serpent of the Sidra in rare flashes.
A fog so thick that it coated the insides of Gwyn’s lungs with each practiced breath of her breathing exercises. It clung like a burial shroud around the top of the mountain and the house built into it, encircling the ledges that acted as boundaries for the rooftop ring. It was surreal, to be so high, yet unable to see anything beyond the ring she stood in. Isolating.
She was alone here, though the hour was late enough into the morning that her unit of Valkyries-in-training should have been here by now. But given the weather, no doubt the recruits had opted to use it as an excuse to stay inside. It would be easy to shirk the obligation, given that Gwyn was the only unit commander that would be in Velaris for the next two weeks. They knew she wouldn’t come sniffing them out.
Nesta had gone with Cassian to the Day Court, for a visit with Helion, the High Lord that was so beautiful that Gwyn blushed at even the thought of looking at him. It was like looking directly at the sun. Whatever her friends got up to with him on their excursion, she hoped they had fun.
Emerie had been assigned to an Illyrian camp on the northern range, stationed there for the month to welcome on new recruits to the Valkyrie units being trained in a handful of camps. It left Gwyn in charge of the training here in Velaris, focused mainly on the priestesses and the volunteers that streamed in from the city proper.
She tried not to feel so lonely without her sisters, but it was difficult now as she stood in the center of the ring, secluded and shielded from view. Maybe even the Mother couldn’t see her here. It was a thought both haunting and comforting that she dismissed with a measured exhale and an arching swing of her staff.
She’d chosen this weapon to begin with today, intent on loosening her muscles rather than working them to their limits. She’d save that for whatever trainees did dain to make the trek up here. For now, she focused on her breathing, on imbuing the staff with the same fluidity with which she directed all of her long limbs.
Gwyn shut her eyes against the oppressive fog, finding it easier to ignore the feeling of such isolation when she had only her mind to peer into. Such a frightful place it used to be, her mind. An ocean of fear, anger, and anxiety. With each swing and strike of the staff, she quelled it into a steady ebb and flow swelling waves. And she was the rock against which the surf crashed. Steady, unbroken, no matter how the waves churned.
Her ears filled with the fantom sound of the waves, in and out, push and pull. She swung the staff, twirling it effortlessly through the air around an imagined opponent’s guard. Ducking low, she swept it forward, only to maneuver it expertly upward a breath later, intending to jab it sharply up into the sticky air.
Her breath caught as the staff jerked to an abrupt stop mid-swing, as if a hand had reached out to intercept it. Her heart stopped with it, and her crystalline eyes flew open as she hoisted the staff back and drew herself up into a defensive stance on instinct. A fleeting moment of terror passed before she recognized the dark, towering figure that had seemed to materialize from the mist itself. The Shadowsinger stood before her, his powerful arms falling into a casual fold across his armored chest, a smirk just faintly visible on his sensuous lips.
Gwyn afforded herself a moment, just a moment, to take in the male in front of her. If Helion was the sun at which to be squinted at, then Azriel was a pool of deep shadow to gaze warily into. Beautiful, inviting, yet hauntingly fathomless. He stood with is wings folded neatly, his back straight and shoulders squared. She wondered what it was like for a female of typical height to stand before him. She was six feet tall, and still he towered over her. Though, she suspected the weaponry and overall force of his presence helped him seem more imposing.
The hilt of his sword peeked out between his wings over his shoulder, the blade snug along his spine. Truthteller hung at his side, the dark blade seeming to drink in the gloom around them. The force of the weapon itself was almost enough to send her shrinking back.
And curled like sleepy cats along his neck and arms and fingers, his shadows peered down at her playfully. How she knew what they felt; and how they even felt for that matter; she could not say. But she felt their eyes on her. Though, maybe that was only the male’s gaze as his impossible eyes assessed her.
When the moment passed, Gwyn exhaled through her nostrils, pleased that her iron hold on her composure had not wavered. Only a lifted auburn brow indicated her surprise to see him, despite the questions that fluttered endlessly about in her mind. It had been two weeks since she’d seen even a wisp of shadow from the spymaster. There had been no warning about his departure, about where he was going, and when he would be returning. Of course, she could not have expected such things. He was master of secrets, after all. What business did she have knowing of his movements? He came and went just as easily as the shadows that he commanded.
Still, it was always a relief to see him return, no matter how many times he came and went. Not that she would ever let him know that. At least not in so many words. In fact, she decided at that moment that she would not be speaking the first words to him, at all.
She kept her pink lips shut, her face blank and placid as pond water, waiting expectantly for him to speak first. There were a few breaths between them that existed only of silence, mist, and the tension between them that had been building for over a year. That same tension that they often cut into with swordplay and sharp, teasing words.
He drew in that tension, letting it expand his lungs, before he finally drawled in that calm, cold quiet of his. “The word around is that training is postponed for today. Considering the conditions.” He lifted one broad index finger to gesture to the wall of grey around them. She didn’t move her eyes from him.
“Is it?” She intoned as she straightened from her stance and cast her gaze around the desolate ring, as if just noticing that she was alone. She certainly hadn’t made the official call, but it was no surprise that the decision had been unanimously made amongst the ranks. A sign of how feebly she held their command in her hands. No matter how sure she was with the hilt of a blade, her grip was always too loose on the Valkyries. It was why she relied on Nesta and Emerie so much.
Azriel, it seemed, had his opinions on the matter. She could tell by the way his slight smile did not reach the eyes below his heavy black brows. Though, that was only because she had actually seen a real smile on his face. A rarity, and a privilege she knew few were ever granted. Still, it made her privy to when he was donning a mask.
“It is. Yet here you are.” He observed.
Gwyn exhaled a sharp, slender sound like the unsheathing of a blade. She fell into a more casual stance, propping the staff up on one end and wrapped a hand around the width of it as if it were helping her stand. She did not miss the way Azriel’s gaze flickered to her hand, for only a fraction of a moment. She tightened her grip.
“Here I am. You used to make us train in pouring rain. And sleet. And the time the locusts were swarming.” She frowned at the memory of picking insects out of her braid at the end of the day. “This doesn’t stop me.” She gestured around them and waggled her slender fingers through the mist.
“I wonder why it’s stopped the others.” He mused with the pretense of ignorance. Gwyn’s frown deepened. This was a reprimand, she knew. A chastising, from one professional to another. The idea of Gwyn being a professional was almost laughable. But it was the oath that she had sworn to the Night Court last Summer. She still felt like an imposter, every day. And here was the proof. A desolate training ring for her to command.
“Because Nesta is away. So the mice will play.” She rolled a shoulder and hoisted the staff into both hands once more, eager to dismiss this. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t mind. She could lead training well enough, but it felt an awful lot like being dangled over an open pit when she had to do so alone. “They aren’t afraid of me.” She added, forcing her lips to twist into a smirk and batting the lashes of her ridiculous eyes with mock innocence.
“Why?” He demanded, and did not even try for a smile this time. She met his eye, and knew that she was one of very few that would ever dare to do so. Especially when he used that tone. But she didn’t balk at it, even if it did run a sickening talon of fear up along her spine.
“Do you think they should be, Shadowsinger?” She lilted instead of answering, presenting her teeth to him in a wicked smile.
He was silent, as if weighing his words, then finally looked away to survey the ring. Quietly, she noted the bob of his throat, the way his nostrils flared at her use of his title. She’d discovered with no small amount of joy and awe what it did to him, to hear her say his title that way. The way he stilled just so, the way his eyes always fell upon her lips. It was a cheap shot now, when he’d gotten her onto uneven footing. Still, she didn’t miss his shadows clustering closer to him, as if to shield whatever overt reaction he might have.
“They don’t fear Nesta.” He said thoughtfully at last, and she laughed.
“Right! And they think you and Cassian are ugly as toads.”
He didn’t laugh. Though she could see the faintest hint of a smug smirk attempting to infiltrate his iron defenses. She smiled sweetly.
“They don’t. They only trust her.” Her smile vanished at his words. Eyebrows lowering, she took a half step back away from him, only then realizing how close they’d been standing. She turned on her heel and stepped a few paces away, intent on resuming her drills.
“They don’t trust me?” Gwyn’s gut twisted at the words, but she asked them with as much composure as she could. How miserable, being told that the females she was in charge of didn’t trust her.
“Not to hold them to the standards they’ve come to expect.” Came his matter of fact answer, and she found it impossible to look at him now. Gwyn cast her gaze to the wall of fog around them, trying and failing to tamp down the temper welling within her with a sharp twirl of the staff.
“Well, I suppose they don’t think a failed priestess is capable of it.” She said bitterly. But even as they fell from her lips, they felt wrong. She didn’t think they felt that way. None of the other priestesses in the library had ever ridiculed her for her decision to shed the title. And the others from outside of the library only knew her as Commander Valkyrie. Or as a Carynthian. But then, what was it about Gwyn that made it easy to duck around her command?
When Azriel did not speak. She finished a movement, then mustered up enough of her pride to turn and find him staring at her. Gwyn swallowed under that gaze, so cool and calculating. Often, she felt like Azriel was dismantling her piece by piece with those eyes. She wondered what he saw now.
“How did you even get here?” She questioned dismissively with a jab of her staff up at the obscured sky. ”You didn’t winnow.” Had he come through the house? How had she not heard the door?
”I flew.” He answered simply, but Gwyn balked.
“In this?” She questioned doubtfully, drills forgotten. Even birds wouldn’t fly in this.
Azriel paused, as if confused, then nodded once. “I’ve flown in worse conditions than these.” He answered. “Worse than locusts.” He added dryly.
Her nose crinkled at his callback. “But how? Do your siphons somehow help you to see?” However familiar she was now with the Illyrians and their wings, the idea of flying was still such a strange and terrifying concept to her. The handful of times she’d been escorted by wing, she’d curled herself up and closed her eyes tightly.
“No.” He answered, then drew in a breath, as if struck by a thought. A smirk formed at the corners of his lips. “It’s trust.”
She snorted. Oh, joy, a practical lesson. He loved finding teaching moments in the most mundane of things. He must be awfully pleased at finding a way to steer the conversation back to what she’d been trying to avoid. Turquoise eyes rolling dramatically, Gwyn turned and strode for the weapons rack, intent on exchanging her staff for something... stabbier. She felt like stabbing something.
“And five hundred years of muscle memory.” She amended for him.
“That doesn’t matter.” His voice was nearer, but she did not turn around to look at him, though she watched his shadows slink around before her. One even ventured to wrap around her staff, lightly brushing her knuckles. “I could have a thousand years of training, yet it takes trust in myself to not go crashing into anything.”
”Ahh,” She exclaimed, emphasizing it with the clatter of her staff against the rack. Still not looking at him, she went on, “Is that what it is I lack? Trust in myself?” She questioned imploringly, as if desperate for his oh-so-sage advice. Give her a break. She trusted herself, thank you.
“Don’t you?” His challenge broke her hold on her temper. No doubt his intention. Her back stiffened, spine stacking vertebrae by vertebrae as she righted herself to her full height. Tall, but still dwarfed by him, yet she turned to meet his eye as if they were evenly matched.
“I trusted myself to get to the top of Ramiel.” She answered coldly. He didn’t even blink. As if he were unimpressed by the accomplishment. Ass.
“Yes. But you had your friends to help you.”
“So did you!” Gwyn flared, having heard the story from a number of different perspectives.
His teeth flashed, an arrogant, cocky grin that had her grinding her molars. “I would have made it without them. I was sure of that. Can you say the same?” He knew how sharp these words were, how easily they slid between each of her ribs. She let them, swallowing tightly and taking in their sting.
“There is nothing wrong with finding strength in who you love.” She tried.
”No, nothing.” And she knew he was being truthful, despite the way he was poking holes in her assuredness. “Yet you cannot let them be your only source of faith in your strength.”
She hated how right he was. How clear it was that she used Nesta and Emerie as a crutch. Both females were so steadfast in their strength, such unwavering pillars against which she could bolster herself. And as proudly as she stood among them, the moment they were away from her, she was at risk of toppling.
“What does this have to do with the Valkyries trusting me?” Gwyn questioned shrewdly, though she knew the answer before it came.
“How can they trust someone who does not trust herself?” Azriel’s head cocked sideways, predatory. His body tensed for some unknown action. She hated the thrill that went through her at the sight of it. “You cannot lead, Commander Valkyire,” The title sharpened and glistening with her lifeblood, ”If you do not have faith in-“
”Oh! Mother spare me!” She lamented, head tilting back, her throat exposed as she gaped at the slate sky above.
But then the sky was falling toward her.
No, she was falling toward it. Not falling, but flying. Soaring up, up, up into the yawning mouth of the nothing-sky. And there were strong, immovable arms wrapped around her, a hard chest pressed against hers. The sound of leathery wings thundered around her as the wind screamed, and she and Azriel soared into the sky.
Her mouth still agape, she found it momentarily impossible to make noise. It was a feat to even draw in breath around the damp air that infiltrated her throat. But when she did, she forced her head to snap back down, eyes locking with the Shadowsinger’s . His hazel eyes were dark, shadowed, and boring into hers with an intensity she had never seen before. But it snapped her out of her stunned silence, and allowed her to realize what was happening.
The ground had disappeared from beneath her feet as Azriel lifted her into the sky.. They were flying swiftly upward, into the thick, impenetrable tapestry of fog. He’d moved so swiftly, so silently, that she hadn’t even been able to stiffen in preparation. She did now, though, her limbs bunching as she moved to grasp him by the shoulders, her nails digging into the leathers.
Gwyn’s stomach fell into her feet, the icy wind whipping around them, though the cold didn't sting her face. A shield provided by his siphons against the bite of the wind, but that was all it did to aid the ascent upward into nothingness. Finally, she found her voice, and said through a blooming snarl, “Are you insane? Put me down!” And, damn him, he laughed. A deep, sultry sound that rattled her bones and made her aware of just how close they were entangled. Oh, Mother.
”You don’t trust me?” He challenged darkly. And she hated him. Hated him so much.
Her ears rang and head spun as Gwyn tried to orient herself. She swallowed dryly, unable to withdraw more than an inch away from him to glance around them. She regretted it immediately. There was... nothing. Nothing around them. Just the never ending expanse of the fog pressing in around from all sides as they continued to rise. It should have been a comfort not to be able to see the ground so far below, but it only made it worse, somehow.
”Gwyn.” And cauldron, her name on his tongue. It was a cool splash of water to the face. “Look at me.” His hands tightened their grip on her, respectfully placed around her waist and shoulders.
A command she could not disobey even if she wanted to. Her gaze snapped back to his as they continued up and up and up. She wondered if they would just simply fly into the sun.
“I trust you.” She managed through trembling lips. Mother above, she did. More than most. More than herself. Gwyn swallowed.
Azriel maintained his gaze for a long moment, the whoosh of his wings the only sound as he studied her freckled face and the depth of her eyes. But he didn’t say anything else. He only slowed his ascent, his wings working to keep them in one place as he began to reposition his hold on her.
Her stomach bottomed out once more as the arms braced around her moved, her own arms instinctively snaking around his neck to anchor her. But he was slow and steady, and agonizingly careful of where he put his hands. Any other time, and she might have blushed.
But for now, she was glad for how careful he was, the measures he too to keep her safely against him as he slowly turned her to face away from him. Out into the open air. Her chest expanded as she blinked, too petrified to be aware of what body parts were neighboring each other as she braced herself against his torso. His arms formed an unwavering brace around her, anchoring her against him as surely as if they were attached.
And she realized that perhaps that was the intention. To make himself into some extension of her, so that when she faced the sky and forced herself to forget her body... he became her wings. She was flying, not him. Her throat tightened as she peered around at the empty expanse. “Okay. Okay.” She whispered. Mother, her heart was hammering so hard she was sure he could feel it pounding against his own chest.
“Now... now what?” She questioned. There had to be reason for this, beyond scaring her out of her skin.
”Now fly. Take us somewhere. I go where you tell me to.” He said, his voice like a silken feather against the shell of her ear. She couldn’t even blame the cold air on the shiver that crawled down her spine.
But... but it was insane, what he was asking. “We’ll crash.” She argued. But then shook her head in and attempt to restore her composure. “You won’t let that happen. I- trust you.” Still, if she was in charge of what direction they were flying, then...
“It doesn’t matter if you trust me.” Azriel countered with another half-chuckle. “I will follow your every order. You make the decisions. If we crash, it is because of you.”
She was going to be sick. She wondered if she threw up, would it land on someone’s head, far, far below? A horrible thought to have while staring into the face of the unknown.
“Azriel.” She pleaded, unashamed of how fear tinged her lilting voice.
“I trust you, Gwyn.” He murmured, his grip on her tightening just so, his tone softer. It made her feel like her bones were made of pudding, the way those word settled into her. He trusted her to do this.
But the question was if she trusted herself.
She swallowed as understanding settled over her. Hating him for this. And yet... and yet...
How could she lead units into battle if she was not absolutely certain of each blind step forward? When they were on a battlefield, and there was no such thing as clear skies and her friends were elsewhere on the map, would she balk at the unknown then? Or would she lead her Valkyries forward, unflinching, unquestioning? She had to first trust herself to do that.
So Gwyn sucked in a cool clean breath that smelled snow and mist and leather. And she blinked into the fog, eyes straining to make out any shape within it. Nothing. Nothing.
She closed her eyes. And it was waves and rock and steady, unyielding strength. And she knew the path.
“Forward.” She commanded, certain that a direct path northward would not send them careening into the mountainside.
At her command, Azriel’s body shifted, tilting her world on an angle that made her glad she had skipped breakfast. And then they were flying with the smooth, strong beats of his massive wings. Her bowels did a sommersault, threatening to rearrange as she gripped Azriel’s forearm tight enough for him to hiss in pain. She didn’t lighten the touch. It served him right for making her do this.
Yet as they moved, drifting blindly through the fog, she had to admit that her fear was ebbing. Trust in him not to drop her, yes. But also trust in the direction she’d picked, aware that it would bring them over the range of mountains into which the House was built, and over the valley behind it. Where exactly she was taking them, she wasn’t quite sure yet. Though she had a feeling that if she simply let herself be guided by whim, and trusted her instincts, then she would find it.
Or they would crash into a cliff face and go tumbling.
Gwyn grimaced, and blinked open her eyes. Still nothing but the mist around them. How had Azriel known when to drop in altitude? How had he known where each peak and plateau was? Where the pillars of the training ring jutted up? She swallowed. “Get lower.” She bid. Maybe something would take form in the mist, and she could decide from there which way to steer him.
He did as she commanded, silently angling them down, steadily losing height. She suspected he was flying at an almost painfully slow pace to spare her the terror. Gwyn wondered, with a thrill of anxious intruige, what it would be like if she had him fly as swiftly as he could.
They would definitely be crashing, then.
She instead said nothing, allowing him to drop further and further in the sky, the fog thinning just a bit. Enough to reveal the peak looming before them, jutting from the northnmost tip of the relatively flat-topped mountains. Gwyn’s jaw locked as she gauged the distance, their speed, how low they were flying. “Steady here, bank left.” She breathed.
He obeyed, still silent aside from his measured breathing in her ear. She thought to speak, but found her mind as clear and empty as the slate grey sky around them.
The peak passed them by, and she had the distinct sensation of the world bottoming out below them as they surpassed the range. Though she could not see it, she knew the valley was opening below them, the streams trickling down from the mountains just faintly audible. They all converged in the belly of this valley, a slim, glassy lake that was a perfect reflection of the sky above. She’d only ever glimpsed it from the training ring atop the House of Wind on especially clear days.
That was where they would go now.
“Higher.” She directed, wondering how far the fog had spread over Velaris and the surrounding mountains. If they could get above it, she could see if it clung over the lake.
Her stomach jerked as he shifted their trajectory, her body going rigid as he tilted them upward toward the watery sun. She was suddenly aware of how stupid she must look, with her legs dangling uselessly below her, him carrying her like some toddler. Frowning, she crossed her ankles, pressing her knees together. He chuckled, the first noise he’d made since she’d begun her command.
“You can’t have always been so graceful.” She chided.
“Oh?” He challenged back, still taking them higher. The fog was steadily thinning, the gray ebbing away to murky blue.
“At some point or another, you were some gangly teenager. You must have had a clumsy moment. At least one.” She insisted, finding it... strangely easy to imagine Azriel as a teenager. All long limbs and lean muscle, though still sporting an obscenely large wingspan. Oh, what kinds of trouble did he get himself into? The thought threatened to make her blush.
“No, but perhaps today.” He mused, and her heart bottomed out as she felt the muscles of his arms constrict, then loosen. Just a fraction. Not nearly enough to have her slipping out of his grasp. Still, she sucked in a sharp breath, and dug her nails in deeper.
“If you drop me, it’s your funeral. Nesta and Emerie will-“
”Where are we going, Commander Valkyrie?” He interrupted, intoning her official title in a way that did not at all sound like a subordinate to his superior. She frowned thinly.
“Higher, Shadowsinger.” She commanded as she let her head fall back, nape resting against the tough leather of his shoulder’s armor. At this angle, she could just spy him from her periphery. And when she glanced, she jerked with a start, “Are your eyes closed?!” Had he had them shut this entire time? He hadn’t been looking where they were going at all?!
Yet they were thousands of feet in the air. And she had brought them here, entirely at her command.
Her heart thundered, and she made to say something else, but the light around them suddenly swelled into a cool, pale yellow. And she realized then... they were in the clouds
Whatever words the revelation had roused from her vanished, awe taking their place as her already large eyes widened further. He slowed as they broke the top of the cloud, pulling them into a vertical hover as she peered around them. All around, for as far as her keen eyes could see, there were the undulating clouds that sat atop the field of mist. The sun peered over at them from the east, gilding the cloudtops in glorious coronas of gold.
There were no words for this. There was nothing in her thirty one years that could ever come close to this. Quietly, she missed her sister. She could imagine her here, in this moment, and knew she would have tipped her head back and howled to the heavens. But Gwyn only stared and stared and breathed and breathed. And acknowledge that she had gotten them here, not Azriel, who was silent as he opened his eyes to watch her and not the sky around them.
Swallowing thinly, Gwyn shook her head and blinked back tears that clung to the lower rims of her eyes. Then she peered down, eyes straining as she looked between the gaps in the clouds. Below, there was the wafting veil of mist, obscuring almost everything beyond the clouds. Yet, she could just make out, far far below, the peaks of the northern range of the valley.
”Further north, but stay above the clouds.” She said hoarsely. He obeyed, tilting forward once more to drift northward over the expanse of the valley thousands of feet below. All the while she peered through the spaces between the clouds, not entirely sure of what she was looking for. Until she spotted them, tiny specks below, the tops of the pines that clustered the lake. The fog was thinner here, as if shying away from the lake in the center.
“Here.” She said as they soared above the center of the lake. ”Lower.” He brought them back down through the clouds, and she found the valley and the lake below was visible through a hazy film.
The drop to the mirrored surface was dizzying, but she didn’t fear the fall. In fact, she gazed down as simply as if she were looking into a hand mirror. It was as if there was a string looped around her middle, giving her navel a little tug. A lure from the lake itself, calling her to its surface.
Gwyn’s body trembled as she considered the urgent feeling, the wing-beats around her echoing the thunder of her heart. Slowly, she opened her mouth, and said, “Dive.”
This was the only moment in which Azriel hesitated. Just for a heartbeat, as if assessing their location for the first time.
But he only hesitated for a moment. Not long enough for her to reconsider the command. He only tightened his grip on her. She adjusted herself to cling to him more tightly. Gwyn had the distinct realization that there was likely few places in the world that were safer than in his arms. Ironic, for how many people likely had had quite the opposite experience. But these were the arms she had found herself in moments after living through the worst thing to happen to her. A shield of safety and comfort that was impenetrable.
It was that small comfort that kept her from balking as Azriel gave one great heave with his wings to send them lurching upward, and then pivoted their bodies forward in one fluid arch. Until they were all but upside down, face first toward the glassy water below the clouds.
And when Azriel’s wings snapped shut and tight against his body, they began to fall.
That was what it truly was this time, as opposed to flying. A complete yielding to gravity, allowing it to take them into a straight plummet through the sky. Down, through the clouds, and the mist, and the gray. Down, through the open air, the wind shrieking with joyous gusto as they streaked toward the earth and the water below.
It was impossible not to feel apart from herself. Overcome with the momentum, the sheer velocity of their dive, Gwyn felt as if she were slipping out of her own body. But she watched, somehow still keenly aware of Azriel wrapped around her like a piece of armor, her auburn brain whipping out behind her and past his face. She wasn’t sure she breathed. The only evidence that she did was the swelling, single note of song that bubbled from her lips as the water loomed closer.
Eyes watering, teeth bared in a wild, senseless grin, Gwyn’s chest expanded with the almost involuntary sound. Her throat burned, her body trembled, yet the noise did not once waver as she yielded to it’s lure.
And though her ears were ringing with the wind and the roaring rapid of her pulse, she could have sworn she heard another note in tandem with her own. Something impossibly soft and weightless, yet deep and sorrowful. Like a shadow. Quiet enough that she could have imagined it intertwining in perfect harmony with her own.
The earth was soaring to meet them, as if eager to accept them back into an open maw. The glassy lake below was a perfect reflection of the sky above, as if they could simply pass through the surface, and continue flying upward into the second sky.
Gwyn’s note ceased as she locked eyes with the reflection that was coming directly for them.
It wasn’t them. Or was it? It was in the right place for to be their combined forms, yet it was impossible to make out the details of bodies. It was only this; a beautiful mass of light and shadow. Twisting, twining, dancing together as it fell through the sky. It was shapeless, an abstract display of perfect harmony. Where her light pulsed, his shadows swirled. Where his darkness bloomed, her brightness gleamed.
It was almost stunning enough to stay her tongue. She might have continued to stare and stare at the image looming for them. Let them plummet right into that mirror and break into the other side as something new. But the reality struck her before the surface of the water did. No matter the illusion, they would hit the water, and it would hurt. A lot.
So she sucked in another breath, and somehow, she managed to fill her lungs enough to speak, ”Pull up!”
Azriel jolted, and she suspected that he might have let them fall, too, if she had not said a word. As if he, too, had seen that reflection. And he, too, was enthralled by what he saw.
But it was all he needed, her voice, to shake free of it. To pull in a sharp breath, and snap his wings out in a practiced, expert maneuver as they came within feet of the lake’s surface. A less skilled flyer would have tumbled and smacked into the water, but he caught the wind with grace, and pulled them parallel.
Gwyn panted, staring in disbelief at the water just feet below, mildly disrupted by the beating of his wings. At the reflection that was just a reflection now, mirroring how they looked, with him holding her, with her arms and legs banded around his.
She swallowed, blinking, and then found herself moving. Dropping her legs from where they’d locked around his, pushing lightly against his hold on her. Just enough to dangle one of her legs down, still anchored against his chest, and let the toe of one boot drag through the water’s surface.
He heeded her, dipping just low enough that she could place the second down, a weightless laugh bubbling from her feet skated over the water, leaving a rippling wake behind. It was... freedom. It was insanity, but it freedom. And absolute trust. In each other, in herself.
There was no other feeling like this. Nothing she could compare it to. Was it really the first time she had felt something like this? So sure that she was safe, and free, and capable of doing anything she wished to do? Perhaps when she was a child, running wild with Catrin through the grounds of Sangravah. Perhaps when she had cut the ribbon. But even this was different.
Azriel banked then, taking the initiative on where to go for the first time since soaring away from the House of Wind. She did not protest as he brought her toward the northern shore of the lake, her feet first skimming the water, then cycling to find purchase on the rocky shore. He let her find her feet before releasing her entirely, settling her down as gently as he could before he touched down beside her.
For a moment, they only breathed. First scanning the shore for any other signs of life, then turning to peer over the lake as the evidence of their disruption faded back into the placid stillness. Once again, it was a mirror of the sky they’d fallen through. And that... thing that it had reflected was nowhere to be seen. It was hard to wrap her mind around what she’d seen. Really, it was hard to wrap her mind around any of that.
But her lungs still burned with the exertion, her cheeks flushed, her braid an absolute mess draped over her shoulder. She’d flown. Azriel had acted as the wings, but she had brought them here to safety. Perhaps something even beyond safety. This place... this lake, it felt different.
“What is this place?” She questioned, her voice hardly above a whisper. As if speaking too loud might disrupt the water. Might... awaken something.
“There’s no name for it.” He said with equal quiet, but there was a hitch to his voice that drew her gaze away from the water. He was once again looking at her. Their eyes met, and she fought back the flush as she realized that she’d... sung. Her singing was her joy, and never something she was embarrassed about, but the noise that had peeled from her lips as they fell had been something entirely involuntary. Vulnerable. It hadn’t been singing, really, so much as it had been the noise of her very soul.
And he had sung, too. She realized that now as she gazed up into his hazel eyes. “What is it?” She breathed.
His wide, full lips pressed together as if hesitating to speak, but before she could urge him to do so, he said, “There is a legend about this lake.” He turned and gestured to the mirror before them. Her gaze moved once more to study its still water, then trailed out to the opposite bank, where the fog lingered at the treeline yet seemed to stop before some invisible wall before it reached the bank. “Long before us, even before the first of the High Lords, this was said to be the home of a Lightsinger.”
The word strummed through her, like a slender finger plucking the strings of her heart, sending a strangely familiar note through her bones. Lightsinger. She’d read about them, of course. What little there was. Every story and legend was worse than the last. She had always tried to brush it off as a tale to scare children away from playing near bodies of water. Yet, part of her had been unable to deny that, while horrible and wretched as they were, Lightsingers did exist. If only by the simple fact that something such as a Shadowsinger existed.
Gwyn took a step across the pebbles, and found herself once more inclined to get nearer to the water. Her feet took a few more steps on their own accord before she caught herself. Shaking her head, she turned to face Azriel once more and was startled to see that one of his large, scar mottled hands had gone to rest upon Truthteller’s dagger. It made her quite aware of the fact that she had no weapon on her own person. So to brush off the chill that ran down her spine, Gwyn tried for a smile, ”Aren’t those supposed to live in bogs?”
”Aren’t I supposed to live in some dark cave and only come out at night?” He countered, and she was pleased to find some humor in his voice. He was just as unnerved by the place as she was. Was it truly the place, though, or was it the vision that had not stopped lingering in her mind as they spoke. Their interwoven reflection. Shadow, and light.
”Don’t you?” She intended it to be a joke, but it fell flat.
”Legends are rarely accurate.” He said with a softness that struck Gwyn as reassurance. She swallowed.
”What else is said about this place?” She whispered, unable to look back at the water. He came closer then, stepping carefully over the rocks. It felt strange to observe, but he seemed somehow to belong here. Not in the way that he blended it with his surroundings, but instead because he was in perfect contrast with them.
The lake reflected so much sunlight that it chased the mist away. The stones of the shore were light, the trees nearby pale. And he, a creature of darkest black and deepest shadows, visible with such clarity.
He often blended into the shadows of any given location, the limits of where his body began and ended blurred and undefinable. It made him seem, sometimes, intangible. Like his body was made of the shadows themselves. Like if you touched him, your fingers might simply slip through him.
He did not seem so now. Azriel was impossibly, terrifyingly tangible. He moved with silent grace, like the shadow cast by something large moving across a sunbeam. Gwyn could see every inch of him. From the toe of his travel-worn boots, to the deadly gleam of the talons at the tip of his wings. His shadows were all but transparent, clustered protectively in any slope or angle of his perfect body. It was possibly the first time she had seen him so entirely. Even when he sparred shirtless in the training ring, never had he looked so naked to her. Never had he looked so beautiful. Never had he looked so…
Azriel was many things. An Illyrian soldier, a spymaster, a shadowsinger, a legend. A scary story in his own right, spoken of with a mingling of fear and awe at more than just a child’s bedside. Gwyn was not not foolish enough to be entirely unafraid of him. She knew what he did, and why, and how often. But despite this, she had always been able to peer past his shadows and ascertain the male beneath them. When she looked at him, she saw Azriel first, and Shadowsinger second. Yet it had never been so easy as it was now. Standing here at this mirror lake, he looked, simply, like a male. A tall, muscular, heartbreakingly beautiful male, but a male nevertheless.
Gwyn watched him as he came to stand beside her, aware that she was staring, but figuring it was good for him to know how the rest of them felt when he was looking at them. He had never tried to hide it when he picked her apart like she was doing to him. She didn’t want him to. For Gwyn, too, was many things. A Valkyrie soldier, a singer, an ex-priestess, and for those who knew her past, a survivor of horrible things. Azriel knew, first had, the horrible truth of that last one. Yet when he looked at her, she never felt as though he saw those things. Gwyn first, victim… very last.
”That if you get close enough to see your reflection,” He startled her by speaking, having forgotten that she asked a question. ”You will be gifted with a glimpse of your true self. A reflection of your soul.” She waited for him to add that your soul would promptly be stolen and your face eaten off, or something more in line with the legends she had heard. But, he only stared out upon the glassy surface of the water, tension in his jaw.
He was remembering their reflection. She did not know how, but she could see the memory once more, but different somehow. The same image of tangled shadow and light, yet from a different perspective. His perspective, Gwyn realized with a start.
Shuffling back across the rocks, she found a large boulder to promptly sit upon. Hands tucked between her muscular thighs, she wavered between glancing at the placid lake and the back of his dark form. She believed him about the lake and the Lightsinger, otherwise there was no logical explanation for… well, any of it. It made sense that his “true self” was a mass of shadows. And her? Well, Gwyn didn’t always feel like she was made of sunshine, but maybe it was simply…. The lake trying to be nice.
Stupid.
They had both been singing when they glimpsed it. Her clear note, his deep hum. And in the mirror of souls, they had been shown what they were. A perfect harmony, an inevitable balance. But if that were the case, with Azriel a Shadowsinger… what did it make her?
Gwyn knew she was not entirely High Fae. Part of her ancestry was Nymph. It had been the object off all that she could not explain about herself. But, a Lightbringer was not, exactly, a type of creature. Was it? Or was it instead simply any kind of faerie, somehow afflicted with the curse. If it was a curse. She looked again to Azriel, whom did not turn to face her. He was as Illyrian as Cassian and Emerie were. Not a half-breed or cauldron made or some foreign creature in a borrowed skin. He was a male first, and Shadowsinger second.
Was she somehow the same? A female, of no particular lineage, and also a Lightsinger.
They had come out here on a mission for Gwyn to learn to trust herself, and now it felt as if she did not know herself at all.
“Bring me home.” She requested quietly. Azriel turned, wordless, and moved toward her. She stood to allow him to wrap an arm around her waist, expecting to be launched back into the air so they could fly back the way they had come. Instead, she shivered as Azriel’s shadows skittered down across her body and became an encompassing veil of opaque darkness. Carried by the shadows through the hidden corridors of reality, only to find herself briefly in Azriel’s arms as they swept from the sky right before the balcony of the House of Wind.
Her feet alighted softy, and she blinked in mild bewilderment at the sudden change of scenery. While no longer living in the library, she had not strayed far by moving into a suite in the House of Wind gifted to her by Nesta. Well, she had asked to go home. Gwyn turned to say as much, but found herself once more entirely alone.