Azrael stood still on the stone balcony of Darkholmme Manor, the moonlight bathing her in a silver glow. Her long black hair stirred faintly in the breeze, her golden eyes fixed on the pale orb above. The silence of the night wrapped around her like a shroud, broken only by the whisper of wind and the distant cry of nocturnal creatures.
She was lost in thought, the weight of everything that had transpired pressing on her like a physical burden. The manipulated Lycans, the cursed vampires, the stirring war, and the darkness that seemed to rise from every shadow—it all churned behind her composed facade.
The sound of soft footsteps broke the silence. Eva appeared at her side, her presence familiar and comforting. She didn’t say anything at first, simply standing next to Azrael and looking up at the same moon.
Eva reached out and gently tapped Azrael’s arm. Azrael flinched slightly, blinking as she returned to the present.
"You were miles away," Eva said with a soft smile.
"I was thinking," Azrael replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
"My mother has summoned all the covens to the sacred grove. Two days from now, we’ll finally get answers to the questions haunting us," Eva said.
Azrael nodded slowly, but her gaze returned to the moon, her thoughts drifting again.
Eva turned to her, her brows drawing together. "There’s something else on your mind."
Azrael exhaled a long breath. "It’s my father. I don’t know how to even feel about him after what he did to Raphael. He... he almost killed him."
Eva’s expression turned grim. She was silent for a while before asking gently, "What happened between them?"
Azrael hesitated. "It’s nothing."
Eva frowned. "Az, we have been very close since we were children. Don’t shut me out. Talk to me."
Azrael turned her golden eyes on Eva. "I need space."
Eva blinked. "What?"
"I don’t know how to feel about us right now," Azrael said quietly.
"Is this about the kiss?" Eva asked, her voice trembling.
Azrael didn’t respond. Her silence was answer enough.
"Is this about him?" Eva demanded.
"No, this isn’t about him—"
"Then what is it?!" Eva shouted.
"We’re cousins, Eva!" Azrael snapped. "I don’t see you that way. I never have. Just... give up. Move on."
Eva stood frozen, her face pale, lips slightly parted. Slowly, she backed away.
A voice came from behind them. "What’s going on here?"
They turned to see Raphael standing at the entrance of the balcony, his arms crossed over his bare chest.
Eva didn’t speak. She cast Azrael one last look, pain flashing in her eyes, then turned and stormed off, brushing past Raphael without a word.
Azrael stared after her for a long moment, then turned and walked toward Raphael. Without warning, she embraced him tightly. Raphael stiffened in surprise before wrapping his arms around her.
"This is... odd," he said. "I can’t remember the last time we held each other like this."
"Just shut up. Why do you always ruin the moment?" Azrael muttered.
Raphael grinned.
"Now I miss when you were fighting for your life. At least I didn’t have to deal with that mouth of yours."
Raphael laughed softly. "Sister, how could you say that to me?”
They stood like that for a moment longer before Azrael pulled away and looked at him seriously. "How do you really feel?"
Raphael flexed his arms and looked at his chest. "I feel fine."
Azrael rolled her eyes. "Not that. I mean... about father. About what he did."
Raphael’s expression darkened. He ran a hand through his snow-white hair and looked away. "He’s always favored me over you. In court. In battle. In front of everyone. I reveled in it. I took pride in it. I thought I was untouchable. But I never thought he’d turn on me like that. That he’d... do something so brutal."
A long silence passed between them. Then, Raphael started laughing.
Azrael tilted her head. "What’s so funny?"
He shook his head. "It’s all just so ironic. You want to know the truth? I’ve always been jealous of you."
Azrael blinked. "Jealous? Of what? Father always chose you. You never had to prove anything. I constantly had to prove myself to him—to the court. He gave you everything I had to fight for."
Raphael nodded. "True. But he’s never loved me the way he loves you."
Azrael’s expression faltered. "That’s not true."
"Isn’t it?" Raphael said with a bitter smile. "You’re mated to a Lycan, yet he didn’t cast you out. He didn’t try to kill you. He pushed you to mate with Draven just to save your life."
Azrael was silent.
Raphael looked at her seriously. "Do you know why he always wanted me on the throne? Why he put me on display in court? It’s because you remind him too much of Mother. You look like her. You inherited her black hair. He wanted to keep you out of the blood and the dirt. He wanted you untouched. He wanted you to be... perfect."
Azrael couldn’t find the words. She swallowed, her throat dry.
“He wanted you to be this perfect little princess.” Raphael continued. “Sometimes I wish he wasn't always hard on me. That's why I envied and disliked you for a very long time. And don't even get me started on how father always pit us against each other.”
Azrael remained silent. She just gave him a nod, taking in all the information.
After a moment, she asked softly, "Will you ever be ready to return to Blackthorne? To face him?"
Raphael visibly shuddered. "No. Not now. His fury’s still burning. We should wait. Give him time to calm down."
Azrael nodded, turning her gaze back to the moon. The silence returned, heavy and contemplative.
The night held its breath, and so did they.