The shadows had never felt so suffocating.

They clung to the walls of the room, to his wings, to you—as if even they knew what was coming.

Azriel stood in front of you, hazel eyes rimmed red, the faint tremor in his hands betraying the storm he was barely holding back. Somewhere beyond these walls, Velaris still whispered in mourning—blood still being washed from marble, names still being counted.

All because of you.

Because you had loved him too boldly. Too openly.

Because you hadn’t stopped when you should have.

“I’ve been so selfish,” your voice broke despite your effort to steady it. “Because I love you so much—and I know how much you love me.” Your fingers curled into the fabric of his leathers one last time, grounding yourself in him. “But it’s over. Azriel, it has to be.”

His breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “I don’t—” His voice cracked, and the sight of tears slipping down his face shattered something deep inside you. Azriel didn’t cry. Not like this. Not ever.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself not to reach for him again. “No, Azriel. It has to be.” Your voice was firmer now, even as your heart splintered. “They know. They proved it. And next time… it won’t just be the court.”

His shadows lashed violently, wrapping around you like they could keep you here. Like they could fight this.

Like he could fight this.

You stepped forward anyway.

Your hands framed his face, memorizing him—the scars, the warmth, the way he leaned into your touch even now. Then you kissed him.

Slow. Desperate. Final.

When you pulled away, his forehead dropped to yours, a broken sound leaving him.

You almost stayed.

Almost.

But you tore yourself free, ignoring the way his shadows reached—how he reached.

And without another word, you turned and walked away.