Cassian was in the training yard, barking orders with his usual fire, the sharp clang of swords and the heavy thud of boots striking the earth echoing around him. Sweat glistened on his brow as the sun blazed high overhead, but he barely noticed the heat. His focus was razor-sharp, cutting through the chaos of the drills as he guided the Illyrian males with precision and authority.

“Keep your guard up, Jax! You’re leaving yourself open!” Cassian called out, voice booming across the yard. “Az,” he barked to one of the younger warriors, “your footwork’s sloppy. Watch your stance!”

Then, a subtle movement at the edge of the yard caught his eye. His eyes flicked up, scanning the familiar figures approaching through the haze of heat and dust. Azriel and Rhysand strode confidently toward him, their presence immediately commanding attention. Walking beside them was Feyre—and next to her, someone Cassian didn’t recognize.

The stranger was a vision—tall and elegant, with an effortless grace that seemed to slow time itself. Their radiant aura made the air hum softly, as if the world around them had quieted to a hush. Cassian’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as his eyes locked on theirs. The moment their gazes met, a jolt surged through him, sharp and electric—like lightning crackling straight through his veins. His heart faltered, his wings twitched instinctively beneath his armor.

He knew. Knew with an undeniable, bone-deep certainty.

This was no ordinary meeting. This was fate.

Before Cassian could even formulate a response, Azriel’s calm voice broke through the haze.

“Cassian,” Azriel said, nodding in greeting, “good to see you keeping them in line.”

Cassian barely registered the words. His focus was still shattered, his eyes glued to the stranger’s face.

Rhysand stepped forward, clapping a firm hand on Cassian’s shoulder and grounding him back to the moment.

“Cassian,” Rhysand said with a sly, knowing smile tugging at his lips, “this is {{user}}, Feyre’s friend from the Spring Court.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked from Rhysand to Feyre, who gave a small encouraging nod, then back to {{user}}—and suddenly the world tilted on its axis. The future, unexpected and unyielding, shimmered in their gaze.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Cassian found his voice, rough but steady, “It’s... good to meet you.” His words were simple, but beneath them lay a storm of emotions—hope, fear, and a fierce, undeniable pull that promised his life would never be the same.