Silent Lullabies Pt 6
Summary: The aftermath of the night on the bridge.
Warning: emotional turmoil!!, angst
Authors Note: I'm trying to be more consistent guys I promise!! also I had severe writer's block
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Azriel had been pacing the room, waiting for you to return. The rest sat in tense silence, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on their shoulders. There was no way any of them could sleep—not until you were back.
He hated this. Hated sitting here, waiting, when every instinct in him screamed that something was wrong.
Azriel didn’t care about space anymore. He needed to find you.
Just as he stood, his entire body seized. A sharp, searing pain slammed into his chest, stealing his breath. His knees buckled as a ragged gasp tore from his throat.
A surge of emotions crashed through the bond—overwhelming, suffocating. And then, pain. Pain so raw, so brutal, it had him collapsing to the floor.
“Az!” Cassian shouted, rushing to his side, Rhys close behind.
Azriel clutched his chest, his breathing ragged. “Something’s wrong,” he choked out. His vision blurred as realization cut through him like a blade to the heart.
The pain could only mean one thing.
You had severed the bond.
Even through your fights, your grief, you had never done this before. You had blocked him out, but the bond had always been intact, a lifeline—no matter how fragile. But now… now there was nothing. Just a hollow emptiness where you should have been.
Azriel stumbled towards the door, his entire body trembling. “I have to find her,” he rasped.
Rhys, Cassian, and Mor were already on his heels as he staggered out into the night. His breathing came fast and uneven, the agony of the broken bond coursing through him like fire in his veins. His shadows had already spread out, desperate to find you, and when they did, when they grew frantic near the bridge—his heart nearly stopped.
But as he neared the bridge, his worst fear became reality.
“Y/N?” Azriel’s voice cracked as he spotted one of your shoes on the ledge.
Cassian shot into the sky, already heading toward the healer’s, needing no further instruction. Time was slipping through their fingers like sand, and every second mattered.
Azriel didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.
He dove into the freezing water, the impact shocking, but nothing compared to the icy terror gripping his soul. He fought against the current, his wings useless in the water as he searched, his lungs burning.
Drifting further from him.
A broken, strangled sound tore from his throat, lost to the water as panic surged through him. He forced his body to move faster, his every muscle screaming as he pushed himself forward. The distance between you felt endless, unbearable, but he pushed through it, he had to.
With one final, desperate push, he reached you, his arm locking around your waist, pulling you against him. You were too still, too cold. Azriel’s breath came in ragged bursts as he kicked upward with everything he had, the weight of both of you dragging him down, but he forced himself to keep going.
His muscles screamed in protest as he swam toward the riverbank, his arms trembling from the effort of keeping you above water. Each stroke felt heavier, his body threatening to give out, but he didn’t stop.
Finally, his feet found solid ground.
He stumbled onto the shore, collapsing to his knees as he pulled you onto the damp earth. His hands trembled as he brushed wet strands of hair from your face, his vision blurring.
.He laid you down on the damp grass, his hands already moving, pressing against your chest.
“Is she breathing?” Mor’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with fear.
Azriel didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
“Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. His hands pushed down again, steady, desperate. “Come back to me, Y/N.”
He tilted your head back, sealing his mouth over yours, breathing air into your lungs.
His hands trembled as he resumed compressions. “You can’t just leave me like this!” His voice cracked, raw and choked with emotion. He forced another breath into you, pressing against your heart over and over.
Tears blurred his vision, spilling down his face as he whispered, “There’s so much I didn’t get to tell you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice broke completely as a sob tore through him. “Please don’t do this.”
Mor was crying, hands over her mouth as she shook beside Rhys.
Rhys took a hesitant step forward, his own grief barely contained as he placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Az…” His voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.
Azriel shook him off, desperation clawing at his insides. “No.” His voice was hoarse, wrecked. “She wouldn’t leave me.”
He pressed down on your chest again. Again. Again. His hands shook, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Azriel’s hands were trembling as he pressed against your chest again, harder this time, his voice nothing more than a wrecked plea. “Come back to me.” His vision was blurred with tears, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. “Please.”
Another breath. Another push.
Your body convulsed slightly as water spilled from your lips, sputtering past parted lips in a wet, choking gasp.
Azriel froze, his breath catching mid-sob.
Then, again. A weak, fluttering beat beneath his palm.
“She’s breathing,” he choked out, his entire body going still as he leaned down, pressing his ear to your chest. It was faint, fragile, but it was there. “She’s breathing.”
Relief slammed into him so hard he nearly collapsed. Mor let out a broken sob, her hands clutching her chest, while Rhys exhaled sharply, already reaching out with his power to let the others at the house know.
“We need to get her to the house—now.”
Rhys held onto Azriel and Mor as they winnowed straight into the house.
“Is she okay?” Feyre’s voice was the first thing they heard, urgent and trembling. But the moment her eyes landed on you, limp and unmoving in Azriel’s arms, her hand flew over her mouth, her head shaking in silent devastation.
“Her heartbeat is faint,” Azriel muttered, barely able to form the words. His grip on you tightened as he turned to Cassian. “Where’s Madja?” His voice was raw with desperation.
“In the family room,” Cassian said, but Azriel didn’t even wait for him to finish before he was moving, the others right on his heels.
The moment they entered, Madja was already prepared, her tools laid out, her sharp eyes assessing the situation in an instant. “Put her down,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Azriel reluctantly laid you on the bed, his fingers lingering for just a second before Madja was by your side. Her hands moved quickly, assessing, diagnosing.
“She’s too cold,” Madja announced. “I need hot towels, now.”
The others rushed to follow her command, disappearing to fetch whatever was needed. But Azriel didn’t move. He couldn’t. He just stood there, staring at you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his chest heaving with the weight of it all.
“This is my fault,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His eyes never left your face, his heart pounding with every agonizing second that passed.
Madja paused, her sharp gaze flicking to him. “There is no room for self-pity right now, young man,” she said firmly. “She doesn’t need that. Not right now.”
Azriel swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion. He nodded, but the guilt still sat heavy in his chest, crushing, unrelenting.
The minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as Madja worked swiftly, her hands moving with purpose and precision. She worked tirelessly to stabilize your body, bringing warmth back into your cold skin, forcing your body to respond. Slowly but surely, your heartbeat began to pick up, faint but steady. It was the only sign of hope they had.
Azriel watched, unwilling to look away, his heart still lodged in his throat, his every instinct screaming for you to wake up. He hadn’t known how badly he needed you to breathe, to open your eyes, until the moments had dragged on in painful silence.
“Her body is stabilizing,” Madja finally said, her voice hoarse from the strain of her work. “Her heartbeat is stronger now, her body is responding, but...” She trailed off, looking at Azriel, knowing exactly what that ‘but’ meant.
“But her mind isn’t,” Azriel finished for her, his voice low and raw. He stepped closer to you, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as if he could will you to wake up. His heart ached as he watched your face—still too pale, too distant.
It seemed as though you were fighting with yourself,your body clinging to life, but your mind slipping away, not quite ready to fully come back.
Madja stepped aside, letting Azriel kneel beside you, her voice soft but firm. “She’s not fully conscious yet. It’s a matter of her will now—whether she wants to wake up or not.”
Azriel’s eyes burned, his hand now gripping yours, hoping that in some small way, you could feel the strength he was pouring into you, the desperate plea without words. “Please, don't leave me” he whispered, his voice cracking.
He swallowed, trying to steady himself, but his voice trembled with the weight of everything that had led up to this moment. “I should have been better. I should have protected you, but I... I was too late.”
Azriel leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath shaky. “Come back to me.”
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Azriel had spent the entire week sitting across from you, his eyes never leaving your still form. It had been nearly two weeks, and you still hadn't woken up, and every moment without you felt like a cruel, unrelenting weight on his chest. He couldn't understand it, how the love of his life, the one person who made him feel whole, could be lying in front of him, barely breathing, and he could do nothing to pull you back from whatever darkness held you.
Every day, he would talk to you, his voice hoarse and ragged, begging you to wake up. He’d share everything, telling you about the days without you, about how much he missed you, how every inch of his soul ached for you. But no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he told you he loved you, nothing seemed to reach you.
Some days, when the grief became too much to bear, Azriel would break down, tears slipping silently down his face, his body trembling with the weight of his own helplessness. He hated seeing you like this. He hated that he couldn’t make it right, couldn’t undo whatever had led to this moment. It hurt him too much, knowing you were there and he was still here—alive, breathing, and yet so desperately empty without you.
He missed everything about you. Your laugh, the way it could light up the room, the way it could pull him out of his darkness, make him forget everything just for a moment. He missed your scent---how it wrapped around him, how it lingered even when you weren’t near. The warmth of your presence, the lightness you brought to him every day, the way your eyes would always soften when you looked at him.
Azriel couldn’t remember what it felt like to not need you. Every inch of him longed for you. The nights without you felt endless, like he was drowning in the silence of your absence. He couldn’t bear the idea that this might be his reality, that he might never hear your voice again or feel your touch. It was a reality he refused to accept, no matter how long it took.
But even in the dark hours, when despair almost swallowed him whole, Azriel clung to one hope: that you were still there, somewhere in the vast, empty space between your body and your mind. That one day, you would hear him and wake up, and the bond between you both would be whole again.
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Madja had come by daily to check on you, and each visit seemed to bring more weight onto Azriel’s already-burdened soul. The days dragged on without any significant changes, nothing that would offer him even the smallest glimpse of hope. The uncertainty of your condition was a slow, agonizing torture for him. He was becoming a shell of the person he once was, living only for the moments when he could sit by your side and pray that you might wake up. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.
Now, he sat in a chair beside your bed, his hand never leaving yours, the only connection he had left to you. His body felt hollow, his heart echoing with the emptiness that had taken root in his chest.
The door opened, but Azriel didn’t acknowledge it. Feyre stepped in, she was farther along in her pregnancy now, her belly noticeably rounder, but the weight of her joy seemed muted against the overwhelming sorrow that consumed the room.
Feyre walked silently over to the chair beside Azriel, her gaze briefly flicking to his drawn face before landing on you. Her expression tightened in quiet anguish, and she settled into the chair across from Azriel, her eyes never leaving you.
They sat in silence. No words were spoken. There was nothing either of them could say that would change the reality they were facing. The pain was too deep, too consuming.
Feyre had been coming here regularly, sitting beside Azriel without saying much, and that was how they both preferred it. The silence felt almost sacred because it was a silence born of shared understanding, of an unspoken bond forged through grief. Neither of them needed to explain themselves. They knew what the other was feeling.
Feyre’s hands gently folded in her lap, but her eyes were distant, unfocused as they lingered on you. Her thoughts were heavy. She was acutely aware of how everything had unfolded. How, in the chaos of her own life, she had failed to notice your pain, the weight you had carried and the battles you had fought alone. And now, seeing you like this, seeing Azriel like this, she couldn’t ignore the sharp pang of guilt that gnawed at her every time she thought of it.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care. But she had been blind to the extent of your suffering. She had been so caught up in her own struggles, her own joys, that she hadn’t been there for you the way she should have been. She couldn’t even tell Azriel that she was sorry. She wasn’t sure if words would be enough anyway.
The quiet between them was broken only by the soft sounds of your breath, still faint, still fragile.
Feyre reached out, her hand resting gently on Azriel’s, offering silent comfort. The gesture spoke volumes in the stillness of the room. She didn’t need to say anything. Neither of them did.
After a long pause, Feyre finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, fragile and breaking. “I should have been there for you… for her.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, heavy with the regret that had been eating away at her for days now. “She was so strong,” Feyre whispered, tears glistening in her eyes as they slid down her cheeks. “But I didn’t see how much she was carrying. I didn’t see how hard it was for her to keep going.””
Azriel’s eyes flickered to her for a brief moment, the words that had been sitting on his tongue falling away. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. He understood her pain, he knew the guilt she carried but he was too deep in his own. There were no words to offer that would ease it, no comfort he could give. All he could do was remain silent, his hand still firmly wrapped around yours.
Just as he was about to speak, he felt it—a soft twitch in your hand.
His breath caught, his body going still as he stared at your fingers, still wrapped loosely around his. He felt the smallest flicker of hope in his chest, a wave of disbelief and longing all at once. For a moment, the world seemed to freeze, his focus entirely on you. Was it real?
He held his breath, watching intently as your hand twitched again, and then—
Your eyes fluttered open, faintly at first, barely more than a whisper of movement.
"Az..." Your voice was so soft, so fragile, like a memory carried on the wind.
Azriel’s heart slammed into his chest. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His entire body went rigid as the shock of your words and the sight of your eyes flickering open overwhelmed him. His pulse roared in his ears, the rest of the world vanishing in the wake of your awakening.
“Feyre,” Azriel breathed, his voice raw and filled with urgency. His grip on your hand tightened, a rush of adrenaline flooding his veins. “Get Madja. Now.”
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You weren’t supposed to be here. No..there was no way you were still alive after what had happened.
Your surroundings were bathed in an endless, ethereal white glow, soft and warm, yet eerily unfamiliar. The last thing you remembered was the crushing weight of darkness pulling you under, the world slipping from your grasp as Azriel’s voice called your name.
And yet… you woke up here.
The overwhelming serenity of the place settled into your bones, a deep, unnatural calm that made you uneasy. It felt too peaceful. Too final.
"Hello?" Your voice was barely above a whisper as you took in the figures moving around you, people who seemed content, at ease. They smiled and laughed, their presence light, almost weightless. But something was wrong. You called out again, louder this time, but it was as if they didn’t hear you.
A shiver crawled down your spine.
The voice was soft, melodic, and when you turned toward it, your breath caught.
A woman stood before you—the most stunning woman you had ever seen. Her beauty was almost unnatural, otherworldly, as if she had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Everything about her, from the way she held herself to the effortless grace in her movements made you feel small, insignificant. Wary.
She approached, her golden eyes warm but unreadable.
"Where am I?" you asked, your voice barely steady as you glanced around, searching for answers, for anything familiar.
The woman smiled, and something about the way she did made your stomach twist. It was kind, but there was an understanding in her expression that unsettled you. Like she knew what you were feeling before you did.
"You are in the Afterworld, my dear."
No, that couldn’t be right. If this was the afterworld… if you were here…
Your breath hitched, panic tightening in your chest. That means Azriel…
Your mind raced, piecing together what little memory you had left before everything went dark. Azriel had been calling for you. He had been there. You had tried to reach him, to respond, but the darkness had swallowed you whole before you could.
“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, stepping back instinctively. “No, I have to get back.” Your voice was more frantic now, desperation creeping into every syllable. “I promised him, Azriel, he-he’s waiting for me. I have to go back.”
The woman tilted her head slightly, watching you with something like understanding. She didn’t argue. She didn’t tell you it was impossible. She simply extended her hand toward you.
“Y/n,” she said softly, beckoning you forward. “There’s something I need to show you.”
You hesitated, wariness prickling at the edges of your mind. Who was she? Could you trust her?
But something about her presence was… steadying.
Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out and took her hand.
The world around you shifted in an instant. One moment, you were surrounded by an endless expanse of white; the next, you were standing in the middle of a vast, sun-dappled garden.
Lush greenery stretched in every direction, filled with towering trees and vibrant flowers in full bloom. The air smelled of fresh earth and something sweet, something warm and familiar.
Laughter rang through the space, high-pitched, bright, innocent.
You turned, your breath catching as you took in the sight before you.
Dozens of them, running through the fields, their giggles and delighted shrieks echoing through the air. Some chased each other in games of tag, others sat in circles, weaving flower crowns with nimble fingers. There were children of all ages, of all features and sizes, their faces alight with unfiltered joy.
Your brows furrowed as confusion settled over you.
“Why are we here?” you asked, glancing at the woman beside you.
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she led you forward, past the children playing, past the ones sitting beneath the trees, until your steps slowed—until your gaze landed on him.
A young boy stood apart from the others, his small fingers skimming over the petals of a pale blue flower. His dark, tousled hair shifted as he moved, the familiar inky shade catching the sunlight.
Slowly, almost as if he felt your presence, the boy turned.
And you nearly collapsed at the sight of those eyes.
Your breath shuddered, the realization slamming into you with the force of a wave.
Your lips parted, but no sound came out.
The boy blinked up at you, his head tilting ever so slightly in quiet curiosity. His fingers clutched the flower he had been holding, but he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He was just watching you.
The woman at your side finally spoke, her voice laced with something deep, something knowing.
“He has been waiting for you.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
You didn’t need to ask. Didn’t need her to clarify.
Tears burned your eyes, your body trembling as you took an unsteady step forward.
The boy didn’t move. He just watched you, those hazel eyes filled with something unreadable, yet achingly innocent.
Your breath came in shallow gasps as you slowly knelt before him, the weight of the moment pressing down on you like an unbearable tide. Seeing him now, seeing what could have been, what should have been, shattered something deep inside you.
He was everything you had never gotten the chance to hold. The life that had been stolen before it could even begin. And yet, here he stood. Whole. Real. Alive in a way you never thought possible.
A sob tore from your throat as you reached out, your hands shaking. The moment your fingers brushed against his small shoulders, something inside you shattered. Without hesitation, you pulled him into your arms, clutching him as if he might disappear.
He melted into you, his tiny arms wrapping tightly around your neck, as though he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. As though he had missed you.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice broken, shaking. Tears streamed down your face, soaking into his soft curls as you held him tighter. “I’m so, so sorry.”
For never getting the chance to love him the way you should have.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, locked in an embrace that transcended time, grief, and fate itself.
You swallowed hard, blinking through your tears as you slowly pulled back just enough to look at him. “What’s your name?” you whispered, brushing his dark curls away from his face.
The boy tilted his head slightly, as if considering his answer. “I don’t have one,” he finally said.
Your breath hitched. No name. No identity. Because he had never been given the chance.
You bit your lip, struggling to keep yourself together. “Can I—” Your voice wavered. “Can I give you one?”
His eyes lit up with something you couldn’t quite name, something soft and hopeful. He nodded.
You swallowed, thinking, but the answer came to you as naturally as breathing. A name that carried meaning. A name that felt right. A name you and Azriel had once spoken about, dreamed about, if you were ever blessed with a son.
The boy—Caelan—smiled. A small, soft thing that made your heart clench.
You let out a trembling breath, running your hand gently over his curls. “Caelan,” you repeated, committing it to memory, to your soul.
The woman beside you hummed approvingly. “A beautiful name.”
You looked back at her then, your mind still spinning, still struggling to comprehend what was happening. “Why is he here?” you asked, your voice raw. “Why—why am I seeing him?”
The woman’s expression was kind, yet unreadable. “Because you needed to,” she said simply. “Because he needed to.”
Your throat tightened. You turned back to Caelan, your fingers ghosting over his cheek. He leaned into your touch. “I—” Your voice caught. “I should have—”
Caelan shook his head before you could finish, his small hands reaching up to hold yours. “Don’t cry, Mama.”
A broken sound caught in your throat at the name—Mama. He had called you Mama.
Your hands trembled as you cupped his face, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, breathing him in. “I didn’t get to meet you,” you choked out, voice thick with sorrow. “I didn’t get to hold you.”
Caelan’s little brows furrowed as he reached for your hands, squeezing them. “But I knew you,” he whispered, tilting his head as he studied you. “I’ve always known you.”
Your breath hitched, your entire world tilting at his words.
He reached out then, pressing his small palm over your heart. “I was here,” he said simply. “I was always here.”
A sob broke from your lips as you pulled him back into your arms, holding him tightly, desperately. You had always felt the absence of something, an emptiness you had never been able to explain. And now, hearing those words from him, it all made sense.
You had never been alone in your grief.
You had carried him with you, always.
The stunning woman who had brought you here stood silently nearby, watching the exchange with something like sorrow and understanding in her gaze.
After a long moment, she finally spoke, her voice gentle. “It is rare for souls to meet like this,” she said. “But your bond… it is strong. Stronger than most.”
You held Caelan close, your mind whirling with emotions too big to contain. “Is he… is he happy here?” Your voice wavered. “Has he been alone?”
The woman smiled softly, shaking her head. “No, my dear. He has never been alone. And yes, he is happy.” She looked down at Caelan with a fondness that made your heart ache. “But he has always watched over you. And his father.”
Your heart clenched painfully. Azriel.
The thought of him, of his pain, his grief, nearly brought you to your knees.
Caelan seemed to sense your shift in emotions. He pulled back slightly, his small hands finding yours again. “You have to go back,” he said, his voice serious in a way that no child’s voice should be.
Panic flared in your chest as you shook your head. “No, I can’t leave you. Not again.”
Caelan squeezed your hands, his golden eyes filled with something impossibly wise. “But I was never really gone,” he whispered.
Tears spilled down your cheeks as you looked at him, at this beautiful, impossible boy who had been taken from you too soon.
“Will I ever see you again?” you asked, voice barely holding together.
Caelan lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You will,” he said softly. “But not right now.”
And then, before you could say anything else, before you could hold onto him for just a little longer—
The world around you began to fade.
“No, wait—” You reached for him, desperation clawing at you.
Caelan didn’t look afraid. He didn’t cry. He just smiled at you, that soft, knowing smile.
The last thing you heard was the sound of his voice, ringing in your heart like a promise.
You watched as he slowly faded away, his form dissolving into the distance, leaving you with nothing but the emptiness of his absence. You were left in a place you couldn't name, alone with the woman who had brought you here.
“Who are you?” You finally asked, the question hanging heavy in the stillness of the space. Your time here felt as if it was running out, slipping through your fingers like sand.
The woman smiled, and then something incredible happened. She began to glow, her form radiating a brilliant, unearthly light. She doubled in size, her presence growing even more powerful, and if you had thought she was beautiful before, now she was indescribable—an ethereal being that seemed to transcend every word you knew.
The very air around her hummed with an ancient energy, one that made your heart race and your soul tremble in recognition.
“You called out to me, the night on the bridge,” the woman said, her voice soft yet filled with a weight that made the ground beneath your feet feel like it was trembling.
You pieced it together in an instant, the truth crashing down on you like a wave. Your breath caught in your throat as the realization settled within you, heavy and undeniable.
You were standing before the Mother herself.
Her presence was overwhelming. Sacred. You had always heard the stories, the legends. The Mother, the source of all creation, the one who shaped life and death. But standing before her, feeling the weight of her power, her eternal wisdom—it was impossible to comprehend.
“I… I didn’t call for you,” you whispered, still stunned, your mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what was happening.
The Mother’s smile deepened, a warmth in her gaze. “You did, my child. In the depths of your grief, you called out for guidance, for strength. You may not have realized it then, but your heart reached for me.”
A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but only one question emerged from your lips. “What happens now?”
Her expression softened, and she stepped closer to you, her presence filling the space around you with a peaceful, all-encompassing energy. “What happens now is entirely up to you,” she said gently. “You have the power to choose your path. To heal, to return, or to remain here.”
Tears stung your eyes as you thought of Azriel, of everything you had left behind. But you also thought of Caelan, the boy you had never been able to hold, the child who had shown you so much love in such a short time.
The Mother’s voice echoed in your mind, “No matter what you decide, you are never truly alone.”
You swallowed, your heart torn between the world you had known and the one that now lay before you. "I want to be with Azriel," you said quietly.
The Mother nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "Then return to him, child. Your bond has been restored. It is strong, and it will guide you both through the pain. But remember, your strength is in your love for him, for Caelan, and for yourself."
The light around her began to fade, and she took a step back, her form blurring as if made of light itself. “Go now,” she whispered softly, “and know that I am with you always.”
With one final look at the Mother, you felt yourself being pulled back, her warmth lingering in your soul as the world around you blurred. The serene light, the comforting presence, all began to fade, and with it, you felt yourself slipping, fading from the afterworld, back into the realm you had left behind.
A sharp breath filled your lungs as you were suddenly aware of your body again—the weight of it, the ache, the pulse of life flowing through you. You felt everything, your chest rising and falling, your fingers twitching at your sides. The world around you was blurry, disorienting, but you could feel the faintest hint of warmth, the unmistakable touch of someone’s hand holding yours.
Your eyes flutter open, the blinding light forcing you to blink as the world slowly comes into focus. The room was unfamiliar, hazy except for him.
His face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief, and in that moment, all you could do was breathe, your heart thundering in your chest as you tried to make sense of everything that had happened.
"Az," you whisper, his name fragile on your lips, as if testing the feel of it, as if speaking it for the very first time.
Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened, and the shock in his eyes melted into a raw, overwhelming relief. He froze, unable to speak at first, and then the words spilled from him in a rushed, desperate whisper. “Feyre,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “Get Madja. Now.”
And in that instant, you knew—without question, without doubt.
