Azriel stood in the throne room of the King of Hybern, blood soaking through his side where the poisoned arrow had struck. The Bloodbane burned in his veins, but it wasn’t the wound that hurt the most, it was the sight of Cassian’s wings torn and broken, and the sound of Feyre’s desperate cries as her sisters were forced into the Cauldron one by one.

When the first sister emerged, Fae but alive, relief rippled through the room. Then the second followed, gasping and remade, her fate uncertain. Feyre collapsed to her knees, trembling, her hands outstretched in a futile plea.

Azriel’s mind raced. He needed a plan, a way out, some miracle. But before Rhysand could barter their escape, even at the cost of his own life... the King’s lips curved into a cruel smile. His eyes flicked toward the assembled queens, gleaming with malice.

“I thought you’d be grateful your sisters survived,” Hybern said smoothly. “That they were given a gift. But perhaps I should demonstrate the Cauldron’s true power… one more time. Bring her out.”

And then Azriel saw you. You, Feyre’s best friend, her truest confidant, the one who had stood by her more than her own sisters ever did. You were dragged forward, terrified, struggling as you were forced toward the roiling dark water. Feyre’s broken voice shattered against the walls: “No! You’ve proven your point! Leave her out of this!”

Azriel’s chest burned, his vision blurring. Every part of him screamed to rise, to tear you from their grasp. And then, as you disappeared beneath the surface and reemerged... broken, dripping, but breathtakingly transformed, your eyes met his. In that instant, clarity struck sharper than any blade.

You were his mate.