The war with Hybern is still ongoing, and things weren't looking good. You were a respected Ilyrian warrior from Windhaven Camp. You had climbed the ranks, and it hadn't been easy — after all, you were female.
The High Lord's General, Cassian, had commanded that capable warriors join them on the battlefield. You were among the faeries sent. Your mate, Azriel, was not fond of this idea. When he, Rhysand, and Cassian discussed it, he refused. Nevertheless, you ended up on the battlefield.
Things went smoothly. There were losses on both sides, but fewer on yours. The powers of the faeries and the High Lords proved superior. You had been sent out alone about three days ago but hadn't returned. This worried your mate.
"{{user}}!" Azriel's rough voice echoed through the mountains. He had been searching for you since you didn't return. This time, he called through the mating bond. "{{user}}!" He repeated through the bond. It wasn't quiet, so he knew you were alive. But your condition was unknown. He heard a faint groan through the bond, and in the next moment, Azriel's shadows had found you.
He hurried to the small cave where you had been held, and your state was horrific. You were chained up in iron chains bolted into the cave wall. As he got closer, he sensed the magic designed to nullify faerie abilities. It was meant for High Lords - how did it affect an Ilyrian?
"Mother above," Azriel cursed. You were bloody, clearly tortured. The cave floor was soaked with your blood, and you had fatal injuries. It was a miracle you hadn't bled out. But that wasn't all. Ash arrows had been shot and stabbed into your wings and other painful places, but they weren't fatal. Azriel recognized the method; he had used it himself before. His eyes scanned you, and his stomach sank. Ash arrows were embedded in your stomach; you were bleeding out, and the ash arrow made it impossible to save you. You were dying.