Isla's POV

I didn't belong here.

That thought echoed through my mind over and over as I sat at the large, intricately carved wooden table in the Night Court's expansive dining hall. The room was filled with an air of quiet sophistication, bathed in the soft light of glowing crystals that flickered in hues of violet and gold. It was beautiful, like something out of a dream, and yet all I could feel was out of place.

I was a mortal. A mere human with abilities I still didn't fully understand, lost in a world of immortals—Fae, gods, and creatures far beyond anything I had ever imagined. They were kind to me, at least outwardly, but the strange feeling of being different, of being a thing that didn't belong, weighed heavily on my chest. The shimmering elegance of Velaris seemed to mock my smallness, my humanity.

I tried to focus on the conversation happening around me, but it was all noise, all blur. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, was speaking to someone, his voice smooth and calm, but I couldn't pay attention to the words. My gaze wandered around the room, falling on a lone figure at the far end of the table.

Azriel.

The spymaster. The shadowsinger. The brooding, silent warrior with eyes that could pierce straight through you, as if he could see everything—every flaw, every mistake, every fear. He had always been the most mysterious of the Night Court, and no matter how many times I tried to make sense of him, I always came up short.

He was seated far from me, his posture stiff and rigid, his eyes fixed on something that wasn't there. He looked like he didn't want to be here, like he was waiting for something to end.

But even in his detachment, there was something about him that drew me in, a pull I couldn't quite explain. It was more than just his dark, handsome features or the way his presence seemed to fill the room despite his quiet demeanor. No, it was deeper than that. It was the aura of sadness, of anger, that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

I had only been in Velaris for a few weeks, but I had already sensed the tension between him and Elain, the youngest member of the Inner Circle. They rarely spoke directly to each other, and when they did, it was cold, distant. Sometimes, their exchanges felt like a battle of wills, neither one willing to yield.

Elain was kind, gentle, the kind of person who radiated warmth and light. She was everything Azriel wasn't, and yet the connection between them was undeniable. But it was also complicated. She had her bond with Lucien, the fiery redhead who always seemed to be in the middle of everything, and Azriel... Azriel had his own battles.

Watching them from a distance, I couldn't help but feel like an intruder. They were tied to each other in ways I couldn't understand, and I didn't know where I fit in. As a mortal, I was a guest, a foreigner in their world, and I had no place in their intricate web of relationships.

But despite that, my eyes kept drifting back to Azriel. There was something about him, something that pulled at me even in my confusion and isolation. I couldn't stop noticing the way his shadows flickered around him like extensions of his very being, like they were alive, whispering secrets to each other.

It was in the way his shadows moved that night that caught my attention.

They weren't just there. They were... reaching.

As the conversation continued around me, I felt a strange sensation creeping along my skin, like an electric charge in the air. My heart skipped a beat as I realized the shadows that trailed behind Azriel were moving, stretching toward me. They were subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but as the night wore on, they became harder to ignore.

My pulse quickened. I was in the middle of a conversation, but my attention had completely shifted. I couldn't take my eyes off the shadows. I looked up at Azriel, who had yet to notice my gaze, and felt a twinge of unease. Why was I feeling this? Was I imagining things?

"Isla?"

Rhysand's voice broke through my thoughts, and I blinked rapidly, snapping back to reality. I looked up to find him smiling kindly at me, though there was a glimmer of concern in his violet eyes.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I was... lost in thought."

Rhysand's smile deepened, but there was still a touch of curiosity in his gaze. "It's all right. If you're not feeling up to this, we can call it a night."

I shook my head quickly, not wanting to appear weak. "No, I'm fine."

I forced my attention back to the conversation, but my thoughts remained on Azriel, on the way the shadows that swirled around him seemed to reach out to me. They were drawing closer now, moving like tendrils of smoke, curling and uncurling as if beckoning me.

There was no reason for me to feel this way. Shadows were nothing new to me; I had learned long ago to accept that I had strange abilities, some of which I didn't fully understand. But this... this was different. These weren't just shadows. They were alive, and they wanted something from me.

I glanced again at Azriel. He hadn't moved, hadn't acknowledged the strange movements of the shadows at all. His face remained impassive, as though he didn't even notice the way his own shadows responded to me. But I could feel them. They were reaching for me, wrapping around me in a silent embrace.

The moment felt surreal. My skin tingled with an odd warmth, and I felt... comforted. The shadows, cold and dark as they were, seemed to understand me in a way no one else had. I wasn't sure if they were reaching for me because they recognized something in me or if it was just Azriel's quiet power influencing them. But I was drawn to them, to the silence they offered, to the unspoken promise they seemed to whisper.

I wanted to pull back, to escape the weight of the moment, but I couldn't. The shadows surrounded me like a second skin, offering their quiet, silent support.

"Isla?"

This time, it was Azriel's voice, low and gravelly, and I flinched. My heart raced as I turned to face him. His piercing hazel eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, the tension between us seemed to stretch out in a tight, invisible line.

He was watching me closely, studying me with an intensity that made me feel exposed, as if he could see right through me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words failed me. I wasn't sure what I could say. I didn't understand what was happening.

"You're... staring," Azriel said, his voice softer now, though it held a faint trace of curiosity.

I didn't know how to respond. The shadows were still with me, curling around my legs and arms like a gentle caress, and yet, I could feel their weight. Azriel's shadows. The shadows that followed him wherever he went.

I wanted to ask him about them. I wanted to ask him why they reacted to me, why they seemed to care. But I couldn't. Something about him—his distance, his silence—kept me at arm's length.

"I'm sorry," I managed finally, though the apology felt hollow. "I just... felt something."

Azriel's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't push further. He merely nodded, his gaze never leaving mine.

I wasn't sure what happened next. But I knew, deep down, that this moment, this strange connection with the shadows, was only the beginning of something I couldn't yet comprehend.

As the night wore on, the shadows stayed with me, their presence never fading, and I realized that no matter how much I tried to escape it, I was bound to this world. To Velaris. To Azriel.

And perhaps, just perhaps, I was meant to be here.

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Note:- The first Version of this story in One Shot is available on Tumblr under same username.