Isla's POV

I was still learning how to navigate the quiet corners of Velaris. They felt both beautiful and unnerving, like living inside a painting that could come alive at any moment. The Night Court was steeped in an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, yet its people were undeniably vibrant, alive with a spirit I found both comforting and overwhelming.

I didn't know how to place myself in this world of power and magic. I felt more like an intruder than a guest. A mortal—a temporary flicker of existence—among beings who had centuries carved into their souls.

Azriel, however, was a puzzle all his own.

He was distant, a ghost that hovered at the edges of every room, every conversation. And yet, when his shadows moved, it was like they betrayed the parts of him he tried so hard to keep hidden. Those shadows weren't silent. They whispered, they reached, and sometimes... they found me.

I caught glimpses of him in those quiet moments when his focus faltered, and something more human slipped through his carefully crafted mask. That morning, as I stood on the balcony overlooking Velaris's sprawling, shimmering streets, I thought about those moments. About him.

The door creaked softly behind me, and I turned, expecting to see Feyre or perhaps one of the others. But it was Azriel.

His presence felt heavier than the others. He didn't speak right away, and the silence stretched between us like a thin thread, taut and fragile.

"Good morning," I said cautiously, unsure of how to fill the space.

He gave a small nod, his wings rustling faintly as he stepped closer to the edge of the balcony. His gaze flicked over the city below, but his attention wasn't on the view. He seemed... preoccupied, his brows furrowed as if lost in a memory.

I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but I didn't dare. Instead, I waited, letting the silence settle again.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "Do you ever think about what you've left behind?"

The question caught me off guard. I turned to face him, unsure of what to say. "All the time," I admitted. "I don't think it ever leaves me. My life before this—before here—it feels like another world entirely. Like I'm not the same person I was."

Azriel's gaze shifted to me, his hazel eyes sharp and searching. "And does it make you want to go back?"

It was a complicated question, one I hadn't fully allowed myself to answer. "Sometimes," I said honestly. "But... even if I did, I'm not sure I'd fit there anymore. Not after this."

He nodded slowly as if he understood. His wings stretched slightly before settling again, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say more.

"Do you?" I asked carefully, my voice barely above a whisper. "Think about what you've left behind?"

A shadow passed over his face, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then, quietly, he said, "It's not what I've left behind that haunts me. It's what I've lost."

There was a weight to his words that made my chest ache. I didn't know the details of Azriel's past, but I knew enough to understand that it was filled with pain, with scars that ran deeper than anything I could comprehend.

I wanted to reach out to him, to say something that might ease the burden he carried, but I wasn't sure if he'd let me. Instead, I stayed quiet, hoping my presence would be enough.

His shadows moved then, curling around his feet like restless tendrils of smoke. They shifted subtly, almost imperceptibly, and I felt that strange pull again—the way they seemed to acknowledge me, to reach for me.

"Your shadows," I murmured before I could stop myself. "They're always... moving. Always watching."

Azriel's gaze snapped to mine, sharp and wary. "They have a will of their own," he said simply, but there was something in his tone that made me think he didn't entirely believe his own words.

"They comfort me," I admitted, my cheeks flushing slightly as I spoke. "When I feel... out of place. Like I don't belong here."

For a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. His shadows stilled as if they were listening to me, and I wondered if he felt what I did—the warmth they carried, the strange sense of solace they offered.

"I didn't realise they could do that," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

"Maybe it's not them," I said quietly, my gaze dropping to the floor. "Maybe it's you."

The words hung in the air between us, and I instantly regretted saying them. But when I glanced up, I saw something shift in his expression.

"It's not me," he said, but his voice lacked its usual certainty. "I've never... I'm not the kind of person who offers comfort, Isla."

I didn't know what to say to that. He seemed so sure, so convinced that he was nothing more than the sum of his shadows and his pain. But I wasn't convinced. There was more to him than that—there had to be.

Before I could respond, his gaze drifted away, his features hardening slightly. I followed his line of sight and saw Elain standing at the far end of the balcony, her delicate features framed by the soft light of the morning sun.

The tension in Azriel's posture was immediate, his shadows shifting restlessly around him. I felt like I was intruding on something deeply personal, something I couldn't possibly understand.

Elain's gaze flicked to me briefly before settling on Azriel, and for a moment, it felt like the world held its breath.

"Azriel," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of something I couldn't quite place.

He nodded to her, his expression unreadable, and then, without another word, he turned and walked away. His shadows lingered for a moment, hovering around me like a fleeting whisper before following him into the shadows.

I watched him go, my chest tight with an ache I didn't fully understand.

Elain didn't say anything to me, but she didn't need to. Her presence alone was enough to remind me of the gulf between us—the mortal girl with no place in this world and the woman who seemed to hold a piece of Azriel's heart, even if it was fractured and complicated.

As the day wore on, I couldn't stop thinking about the way Azriel had looked at me, the way his shadows had reached for me. There was something there, something unspoken, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it mattered.

But it wasn't just about me. It was about him—about the pain he carried, the battles he fought within himself. And as much as I wanted to reach out to him, to offer him some semblance of comfort, I wasn't sure if he'd let me.

All I knew was that his shadows had chosen me, and maybe, just maybe, that meant something. Something neither of us fully understood yet.

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