azriel was, quite frankly, at a loss.

in five hundred and forty years of existing, he had never encountered anything like this. bryce quinlan, at least, made a twisted sort of sense: half fae, half human, brimming with too much defiance and too much light for her own good. prythian had seen stranger hybrids crawl out of fate’s messes.

but you.

he still didn’t know what you were. not human. not fae. not illyrian. not anything that slotted neatly into the quiet categories he kept in his head. your presence felt… wrong, in the way a shadow bent where it shouldn’t, or a blade hummed before it struck.

and yet there the two of you had stood, back to back, feet braced in mirrored stances like instinct had already decided you were safest that way. it would have been almost impressive if it weren’t so absurd, facing him and half the inner circle as if you genuinely believed you stood a chance.

it had started an hour earlier, when he’d been alone in the training ring, leathers clinging to his skin, knife work steady and mind blissfully empty. then the air had folded in on itself. not winnowing. not a tear he recognized.

you and bryce had appeared out of thin air, voices tumbling over one another in a language that scraped at his ears. talking about hel, prince aidas.

your clothes had caught his attention immediately. bryce’s were strange enough, but yours were worse. fabric that clung and stretched in ways prythian cloth never dared, materials that gleamed faintly under the training ring’s lights. you’d looked wildly out of place beside his traditional armor, like a story stitched into the wrong book.

he’d winnowed you both to the house of wind without ceremony.

the garbled up language that flowed from your mouths was unheard of, but with simple magical pill, both the half human and you were able to continue your shouting and ruckus in the common tongue. rhys had tried patience, but it wasn't long before nesta had gotten fed up and threw you two in a prison cell below.

silently, he lingered in the shadows of your cell, unseen, listening. just observing.

bryce paced like a caged animal, fingers testing stone, eyes sharp and calculating even as she cracked jokes that didn’t quite land. when bryce pried open the floor grate, azriel watched closely, every muscle coiled.

“i’ll come back,” she had promised you, voice fierce and fast. then she was gone, winnowed away in a flash of light and stubborn hope.

you didn’t chase her, or panic. you just sank against the wall, staring through the open gate like you could will her to reappear if you watched hard enough.

that was when azriel stepped out of the shadows.

you startled, sharp as a drawn blade, head snapping up, body tensing despite the exhaustion clinging to you. he lifted a hand immediately, slow and deliberate.

“don’t be scared,” he said quietly. “i just want to ask a few questions.”

his shadows stirred, curious, brushing against your ankles like they were testing you too.

“you were… less than cooperative earlier,” he added, tone dry, eyes intent. “with my friends.”