Ghost in a Shell | Azriel ACOTAR

Azriel—no, Ajax, ambled down here again. He creaked open the rusty bar door with a wild, bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes. I shrank back on instinct. His hands landed on my waist with the gentleness of a lover—until he squeezed. Pain was an old friend by now, but my body trembled just the same. Bones screamed and wailed as a whimper escaped out of me, splotches of black starting to invade my vision. The male relished in every crack as any attempts to draw breath became futile—

Eillia shot up, drenched in cold sweat. She darted around, almost forgetting where she was. She was shaking and trying to disappear into the shadows altogether. The ghost of Ajax's hands still lingered, searing a hole in Eillia's brain. It was not the first time.

Eillia looked at the stale bread laced with faebane near her feet, hunger the least she was worried about. The food made her feel weird. She did not care. She did not care that with every bite, she felt her powers damped and smothered deeper inside that well. Ajax had slaughtered numerous Fae down here, leaving their bodies to rot like Barton's. Or was it, Barry? Their screams and cries wriggled their way into her mind, burrowing like maggots. Eillia did not know what time it was, or what year. Death had looked over her shoulders on many occasions, and she had the marks to prove it. Eillia sometimes wished Death would welcome her in its unforgiving embrace. 

Once, she considered her immortal life a blessing, now a curse.

-

Tapping of feet launched Eillia awake. Tick tock. Pain was coming—she knew it. 

Eillia burrowed deeper into the shadows. No light came in anymore. Pity, she liked the feeling of sunlight caressing her skin, it reminded her of Azriel. Give it a few centuries and no one will even whisper your name. No one will come. The rocks were her only company, by now, Eillia was sure they were the faces of the dead. No, it wasn't possible—right?  Bones lay near her feet. They were going to attack. They will wake from the dead and skin her alive—

She saw a little boy. With flaming red hair. Perhaps father wanted to change tactics. Yes, it must be. Her one wish was to hear the crunch of her own neck. She was so, so, tired. She decided she will give up. Let the boy do his job. Instead, the boy ran away. Eillia wanted to scream. Perhaps she could use her hands— the boy came back. With bread. 

It must be poisoned. The boy seemed to read her mind, breaking a piece and stuffing it in his mouth and throwing the rest to her. She snatched it greedily and nearly cried. Eillia could not recall the last time she ate something that wasn't laced with faebane. Or anything at all. When she looked back, the boy was gone.

-

The boy was back. This time, with soup. Eillia had come to like him. He was quiet and calculating. He was taller than last time, a boy starting to fill into a male. Perhaps she could convince him to stake her through the heart. "Who are you?" the boy asked.

I do not know. Eillia did not have an answer, instead, she just stared at him. The curve of his cheek was familiar. "Beron," croaked Eillia, her voice rusty from disuse.

The boy paled. She was right. This was the son of her uncle. That was where the boy got his sly gaze from. Maybe he could get her out. "Please," Eillia breathed.

It was more than a desperate plea. The boy looked around, fear holding his senses hostage. Then he did the unthinkable. 

He walked away.

-

Eillia could not differentiate night from day anymore. Dawn from dusk. Every day was one and the same, living the same nightmare, over and over. The little boy had stopped coming long ago. He forgot. Her father was right, the world will just keep on spinning. Eillia did not care, she told herself. She didn't.

Maybe she should start clawing at the rocks. Yes—no. She could endure a little while longer. Tomorrow.

-

The little red bird is here again. Eillia started to like the bird. They stared at each other until the clanking of guards scared it away. She had mastered staring at the rocks. Tomorrow, she would master clawing them away. After all, there would be endless tomorrows. Forever. Tick tock. Time was running out—no, it would never. The bird whispered the secrets of the land to her, a wall was coming. Eillia could smell the smoke, the dead. 

She already had a menagerie of them staring back at her, all throughout various states of decay. Ajax visited her just last week. Or decade? She couldn't tell.

She missed him. Eillia liked to pretend those hazel eyes were those of Azriel. She ignored the bruises. Eillia pretended the angry hands were those of the hazel-eyed warrior, welcoming her with affection. Until the pain began. In those moments, she loathed him. Eillia wanted nothing more than to run her broken nails down Azriel's—no, Ajax's—face and tear those eyes from its sockets.

-

The little red bird fed her whispers of a human woman entering Prythian. Prythian? Eillia could not recall such a place. She barely remembered her own name. Eillia. Eillia. Eillia. Days were spent muttering those words, over and over. Eillia could not part with the one thing that will leave her mark in this world. Tick tock.

How long to go?

-

Present

Azriel was just strapping on his knives when Rhys walked in. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine."

There was too much bite in those two words for Azriel to be fine. Rhys seemed to pick up on that. "Welp, Cass is nearly ready. He's just saying goodbye to Nesta," said Rhys as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Azriel bit back a chuckle. He was about to say something when Cassian dawdled in, hair disheveled and lips swollen. "Ready to go when you guys are," he chirped.

Both Azriel and Rhys had the devil's grin plastered all over their faces as they taunted at the male, a band of mischievous teenagers all over again. Cassian huffed and rolled his eyes as his ears went a light crimson. "Let's go."

Rhys winnowed the group just outside the deepest parts of the Forest House. At this time of the year, the Autumn Court was too busy throwing lavish parties to bother with patrols down here. Azriel's shadows clung to his wings tightly. Rhys and Cassian's steps were featherlight as the three made their way down into the uneasy darkness.

The faint dripping of water and the click-clack of insects along the stone walls sent shivers down Azriel's spine, no matter that he was the Spymaster. The air bore a foreboding chill as it wrapped along his body, leaving ghost bumps in its wake. He could not imagine someone being trapped down here for five centuries, caged in the dampness, and reemerging with their mind still intact.

Will she even recognize him? No, Azriel must not dwell in the what ifs, for it is a parasite itching its way to infest the bearer. His mind must become a fortress. He could not let his emotions get in the way of logic upon seeing Eillia. 

Rhys and Cassian seem to stop at a respectable distance beside an eerie tunnel. Azriel took the hint and walked right into the stretched mouth with rocks for teeth. His hands turned clammy with each step as he struggled to remain calm. Azriel could feel his heart hammering in his chest. As he rounded a rather menacing arch, he could feel a sudden pull towards whatever lay beyond. 

That's when he saw her.