Auriella watched the sunrise come up from the roof of Rhysand's estate in Hewn City, wrapped in her mate's arms.

Azriel had woken her up early, insisting they go up to the roof before he had to leave to Under the Mountain. He was already dressed in his warrior attire, daggers sheathed at his side, and blue siphons gleaming in the low light. Auriella almost refused, yearning for sleep, but she didn't want to waste a moment with him.

She had gone back to her room, checking on her sleeping wolf, who was still sprawled out on the bed. She smiled at him, quickly changing into a new pair of undergarments since the one she had on last night was, unfortunately, ripped in half by the Illyrian.

Her mate followed her into the room, scoffing at Perseus, before opening the terrace doors. The cool air flooded the room instantly, candlelights flickering from the draft. Auriella breathed it in, feeling the overwhelming calm wash over her.

Azriel walked out first, turning to his mate with one scarred hand held out to her. She smiled at him, their shadows brightening with every passing second.

Auriella wrapped her arms around his neck before they both made the short trip up to the roof and they both sat there in the silence of the morning. She laid on his chest, her head on his shoulder, and arms on top of his. His head went down to the crook of her neck, planting light kisses there.

Auriella knew that it wasn't a moment of desire and lust, but of peace. It was like they both were able to take a deep breath from the chaos, basking in the silence of one another and saying words with nothing but their actions.

The blue sky started to brighten, revealing the white clouds that flooded the horizon. The yellow sun was coming up from beyond the ocean, coloring the sky in orange. The warmth of the sun hit Auriella's skin like another blanket being thrown onto her.

As the morning started to take over, Auriella could see her shadows orbiting her, moving like waves each time they passed. She reached her hand out, letting them dance on her palm. She moved her hand around, admiring how the shadow would twirl through the openings of her fingers.

Auriella chuckled, "I didn't know they could do that." She breathed.

Then, another shadow appeared beside hers, twirling in sync as she moved her hand. She knew that it was Azriel's, seeing how his were a bit larger and darker. They danced together, brightening in the sunlight.

Mate. Mate. She could hear them whisper. Her heart skipped a beat.

"I didn't know I could hear yours too." She breathed once more, looking up at Azriel.

He shrugs, staring down at her hand, "I didn't know they could do that either. It could be something that happens only between mates, but I am not entirely sure." He tells her, turning his head down to face her.

She was amazed at how handsome he was, taking in his striking jawline, plump lips, and those beautiful hazel eyes that she could stare at for hours. She put her hand on his face, caressing him, gently moving her thumb. He closed his eyes at the touch.

Underneath her palm, she could feel the calmness sweeping over him, as if this were the only way that he could maintain himself. There were days when she could feel his stress and anger boiling through him, threatening to explode at any moment, but it would suddenly squander away, as if he made the feelings disappear on their own.

He was holding so much inside of him, simmering beneath his skin.

"Who are you, Spymaster?" Auriella asked him, curiosity getting the best of her.

Azriel opened his eyes at the question, confusion flickering in them. She smiled, "You never told me about you, Az. I guess you know enough about me, but I'm still clueless when it comes to you. Who were you before you became the Spymaster of the Night Court?" She asked.

His eyes darkened at the question. She could see him debating in his mind on whether or not he should tell her everything about him. Auriella planted a small kiss on his cheek, "You can start with something small, something that you don't have a problem with me knowing about." She whispered against his skin.

So, he did.

"Your mother is waiting outside, little wretch. It's a shame my sons didn't burn you from head to toe. I would have entertained myself for hours watching you writhe in pain." A woman said from the open cell door.

The young shadowsinger was in the corner of the cell, his back turned, and eyes watching his trembling burned hands. His attire was stained with dirt and blood, as if those were the only things that he could wear. His face was blank, showing nothing of anger or rage.

"Go! Before I lock you in and never let you see her again!" The woman yelled.

Young Azriel immediately stood up, fleeing the cell, and making his way out of the dark dungeon they kept him in. He ran through the small corridors, his wings scratching from the surface of the brick walls. His throat was dry and begging for water, his stomach calling for food, and his mind yearning for his mother.

He held his hands out, still stinging from what his half-brothers had done to him two days ago. They had scarred, dead skin already showing in some areas.

As Azriel got to the exit of the dungeon, he tripped on the last step up, falling onto the mud puddle that was right in front of the entrance. He groaned, getting up, and making his way to the back gate of his father's estate.

The rain poured down from the sky, drenching him within seconds. It didn't faze the young Illyrian. At the moment, he only had one priority: to get to his mother.

He craved her comfort, wanted her to wrap her arms around him, and tell her that everything would be okay, even though they both knew it wasn't ever going to be. He wanted her words to soothe him, to heal his young broken soul.

But it was always never enough.

As the young boy bashed through the back gate, he could see his mother, feet away on the grass, waiting for him. She turned her head at the sound, seeing her son running towards her with a speed she hadn't seen. Her eyes immediately widened, seeing that there was clearly something wrong. There always was.

Azriel's mother went down to her knees, capturing her son in her arms. He wept into her shoulder, tears blending in with the rain. He held onto her tightly, not wanting to be pried away from her again. He would rather die than go back to those people.

When his mother pulled back, he showed her his hands. He sobbed, ashamed that he let it happen, that he let his half-brothers gain so much control over him. The water would sting his hands, but he didn't want to hide them from his mother, from the only person who cared.

The Illyrian woman gasped, seeing the horrific extent they had gone to injure her son. She quickly stood up from the ground, gathering her son in her arms, and went straight up into the sky, adrenaline filling her veins, letting her be able to carry the extra weight.

As they journeyed above the forest, Azriel kept his arms around his mother's neck, clinging to her. She whispered into his ear, telling him that everything was going to be okay, that she was going to help him. He closed his eyes, believing her.

When they arrived at her small cottage in the middle of the forest, she quickly went into her home, demanding her son get out of his clothes and put a blanket over himself. Azriel followed his mother's commands, stripping down to his undergarment and tossing a warm blanket over his shoulders.

His mother scrambled through her medical supplies in a chest in front of her bed. She took out ointments, bandages, and several medicines. The young shadowsinger could hear her muttering things that he couldn't make out. He believed she was trying to remember the names of the medicines she needed, but he didn't pay too much attention to it.

Instead, he looked down at his hands, seeing them clearly for the first time.

His cell was too dark to see the extent of his wounds, but he knew that it was bad, that even his healing capabilities wouldn't be able to heal them all the way. All he could do was imagine how they looked like in the candlelight.

And now that he saw them, he just wanted to let out his tethered anger on the wood walls that surrounded him.

He saw the white streaks mark his hands, wrapping around his fingers and down halfway to his wrists. There was dead skin peeling off on its own, stained with dirt and grime from his prison. Beneath his skin, he could feel his blood pumping into his hands, still doing everything to heal him.

The eight-year-old Illyrian felt his heart sink, tears starting to fall once more. His mother was making her way towards him, scattering medicines on the floor, and taking her son's hands into hers.

She looked up at Azriel, "What did they do to you, my son?" She breathed, wiping the tears away from his dirt-stained face. The young boy could see the love and concern in her green eyes, gleaming with a gentleness that made him feel safe and secure.

He told his mother everything as she tried to heal his hands. She put all different kinds of ointments on them, occasionally making him swallow bitter medicines that made him cringe away. And as his mother finished applying everything, she wrapped his hands in bandages, careful not to tighten them.

"I've done the best that I can. Hopefully, they will come out better than before, but I am not too sure, my love." She tells him.

He nods, still looking down at what has become of him.

His mother places a hand on his face, making him look at her. She gave him a small smile, "Everything will be alright, Azriel. Deep down, I can feel it. You can overcome this. Whatever these people do to you, I know you will come out strong at the end." She says.

Azriel shakes his head, "I shouldn't have to endure this! I just want to be here with you! I don't want to go back there! They do horrible things to me, say things that make me mad, and torture me! I don't know how much more I can take!" He cries.

Tears immediately stain his mother's face, "I know, my darling. I want that too, but your father makes it impossible for me to have you. I want nothing more than to have you here forever in my arms. I wish I could do something to relieve you of this pain. You are far too young to go through this." She says, bringing him into an embrace.

Azriel takes in her scent of berries and nature, his small shadows brightening at the familiarity. He closed his eyes, wanting to stay like this for all eternity, held tightly in his mother's arms and feeling nothing but the warmness of her love for him.

"Mama, let's run away. Let's run far from here. I don't care where we go. I don't want to be here anymore." He pleads her.

She scoffs, shaking her head, "We can't, my love. Your father will find us wherever we go. He wants to use you for your rare ability. He will make it impossible for us to escape, seeing as he has allies all around the Night Court. The only thing we can do is suffer through this." She says to him.

The young boy backs away from her, huddling in the corner of the room, using his wings to shield his body. His mother stands from the floor, confused, "What are you doing, child?" She asks.

Azriel rocks himself back and forth, his forehead on his knees, "If they want to take me away from you, they will have to kill me. I don't want this anymore. I won't stop fighting until my last breath. To hell with them all!" He exclaims.

His mother's light footsteps come closer to him, "Wings down with me, Azriel. You know I don't like it when you do that. It's like you are hiding from me." She says.

The young boy listens, dropping them, and tucking them in. She kneels down once more, placing her hand in his hair, and moving it away from his face. She plants a kiss on his forehead, "My little boy," she breathes against it, making Azriel's heart tighten.

"We are running out of time with each other. Let me run you a bath and give you something to fill your stomach before I take you back." She says to him. He doesn't argue.

In the corner of the cottage, his mother helps wash his body, scrub the dirt and grime that covers him from head to toe. They would joke with each other, adding lightheartedness to the dark reality they were living. Azriel would blow bubbles from his hands, making his mother smile and pop them while in the air.

After he was washed, she heated some leftover meat, plating it with bread on the side. Her son devoured it within minutes, only drinking his water when he was finished.

As there were only ten minutes left in the hour, Azriel and his mother both laid in her bed. She wrapped her arms around her son while he rested, playing with his hair, and humming familiar melodies that lulled him to sleep.

Within those few minutes, Azriel felt free. For a moment, he had forgotten what was done to him, forget about the darkness that clouded his life. His mother was the only light that he could see, that he looked forward to seeing, even if it were for one hour or a few minutes. He cherished every moment with her, not knowing if it was going to be his last.

He felt like she was the only one who could take away every bad thing that hindered his life and heal him. He supposed that she could, but he felt bad, not wanting to cast his worries onto her, giving her more to deal with than she already did.

"I love you, Azriel. Never forget that. One day, you will come out of this, victorious. One day, no one will be able to control you and own you. You will be free. I can't wait to see who you will become when you grow up. I know that either way, I will be proud." She whispered as his eyes were closed, but very much awake.

At that moment, he believed her.

Even when she took him back to his father's estate, his heart was filled with hope. It was still there when he descended back into the dungeon and into his cell. He held his stepmother's disgusted gaze with confidence as she locked the door once again and walked away, leaving him alone in the darkness.

He let his mother's words ring through his mind, holding onto them like a prayer, letting them repeat and sink into his broken and weary soul.

As they both came out from the memory, Auriella wasn't able to contain her tears. She shook her head, "I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm so sorry."

Auriella sat up to her knees, facing him. "You should have never gone through that, Azriel. Spirits know that you didn't deserve it. Fuck those people for doing that to you. If they were in front of me right now, I would kill them then and there." She sobs, holding his face in her hands.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He places his hands on her waist, "I would too. But luckily, for those people, I haven't seen them in centuries. Not since I was shoved into Windhaven." He tells her.

"And your mother?" Auriella asks, hoping that the woman was still alive. She saw how much she cared for her son, seeing the pureness of love gleaming in her eyes.

The Spymaster looks away, "I don't think she'd be proud of who I have become. Back then, I believed that she would, but I never mustered up the strength to see her again, even though I should." He says, his voice low as he talked about the woman who birthed him.

"She was right about one thing though," Auriella says.

Azriel narrows his eyes, confused at her words.

She moves his hair away from his face, "You are free, Az. There is no one, but the High Lord and High Lady of Night, who can tell you what you can and cannot do. Your father and stepmother no longer have that power over you. They can't tether you anymore. From them, you are free." Auriella tells him.

Azriel's eyes quickly flood with tears, streaming down his face. His body becomes racked with sobs, holding on tightly to his mate. She cries with him, placing her lips on his forehead, letting them have this moment to themselves.