Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, had the largest wingspan anyone had ever seen. Broad, dark, and powerful, his wings seemed to stretch endlessly, a perfect reflection of the quiet intensity he carried wherever he went.

You, {{user}}, had always noticed them but never truly understood the significance. To you, they were just… wings. Majestic, yes—but nothing more.

That was until one afternoon, in a rare moment when the Inner Circle gathered in the Hall of Stars, that someone finally explained what a wingspan could mean.

“Yeah,” Cassian said with a wicked grin, his gesture making it impossible to ignore what he meant. “The bigger the wingspan, the bigger the…” He left it unsaid, letting the obscene gesture speak for itself.

A quiet chuckle rippled through the group before Rhysand added, his voice smooth and teasing, “I’m sure Azriel’s mate will be… satisfied.”

All eyes flicked toward Azriel. Everyone knew. Or at least, everyone except you. The mating bond had already linked you to him, even if your mind hadn’t caught up yet.

Azriel’s gaze drifted to you, sharp but unreadable. He seemed almost desperate to see if you’d caught the subtle—but not-so-subtle—implications of the conversation. Did you understand what they were hinting at? That you were his mate?

You met his eyes and felt a strange flutter in your chest. It was both thrilling and terrifying, like standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing the wind could either carry you or throw you off. And for some reason, just the sight of those massive wings folding and stretching behind him made your heart race faster than it had in a long, long time.

Cassian whistled lowly, and even Rhysand’s playful smirk carried a weight of certainty. Azriel didn’t respond verbally, but the slight tilt of his head toward you said everything. The bond existed, whether you acknowledged it or not—and everyone else could see it.

You hadn’t realized it before, but wings could tell a story. And Azriel’s story was about to become intimately yours.