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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her silver eyes flicker open and—

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What the—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen bumps her face into that of a black-winged wolf. A low vibratory growl echoes through the room as claws lace into the fabric of her dress, forcing her back down to the sheets.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She meets the black irises of Morrow's wolf, knowing full well those meadowed hues won't return until the Morrow she knows is back in command. He's supposed to be sedated, asleep, locked up in the spare room, yet he's inches from her features. Morrow studies her, growling over and over again in raspy tones before he dips his face down to her throat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Black wings bristle in satisfaction as his wolfish cheeks caress her pulse. He nuzzles, and it's in that nuzzle that his tail begins to thump against the mattress beneath them. Could his wolf possibly be... happy?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A rough tongue licks the column of her throat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Gross.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She attempts to sit up, bringing her hand to the back of Morrow's ears. His wolf is large, larger than Ronyn or Arion. Muscles frame each of his limbs, evidence of his strength. Though runes matte his fur, it still remains strangely soft beneath her touch and her fingers scratch behind his ears. The growl that rumbles from his wolf mimics the sound she secretly adores from him, and her creature can't help but purr in response. Their tether still remains singed, but there's a flutter between their auras that reminds her it still exists.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen manages to sit up, coaxing Morrow's wolf to do the same as he sits on his haunches at the edge of her bed. His black eyes focus solely on her, his wolfish tail wagging against the sheets.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She frowns. "You're supposed to be sedated."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He can't respond. He's a goddamn wolf.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"How'd you get in here?" she breathes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her eyes drift over to her bedroom door. She made one of the were fix the door that Ronyn broke yesterday morning, to which Ronyn apologised to the palace maintenance for his impulsive and reckless behaviour. The repair-were just grumbled and told him to stop breaking doors, as Ronyn's tally keeps increasing (twenty-four in total!).

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎No response from Morrow, just an extension of his black feathered wings before they tuck in against his back.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Flight. She should have known to lock the balcony.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen points to her bedroom door. "You can't be in here."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He grits his teeth, snarling at the remark.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His wolf mightily disagrees.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arse.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He may be stuck in his shifted wolf form, but both sides of Morrow understand that he is the alpha, that all members of the pack obey his every command. But Elowen isn't part of the pack. At least, that's how she feels day in and day out.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen steps out of the bed to ready herself for the day, only to hear the steps of Morrow trailing behind her. She spins around, only to have Morrow's wolf remain a step in her shadow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You can't be here."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A distasteful snarl flashes his razor canines.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Out."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow doesn't move to the exit as Elowen points to the door. Instead, he steps towards her and brushes his face into her thigh, releasing that alto tone of his that she secretly adores more than an early morning birdsong.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He's not going to leave her alone. His inner wolf that currently dominates over his human soul revers in the presence of his fated mate, and she knows that the attachment won't break until his wolf lets go of control.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's palm finds the fur behind his ears, her fingers etching in slow strokes. The happy thumps of his tail match her own rhythm, and for a second, her tether to him sizzles to life. His emotions overwhelm her in tidals of joy. In fact, it comes so vigorously that she loses her breath, her silver hues lifting to the sunrise over Tabrien.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But as quickly as that joy came, it fades away until the tether returns to an empty shell, a broken line.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Damn you," Elowen hisses, then swings her bedroom door open.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The were-wyng follows without a hesitation, her brooding alpha shadow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen storms into halls, hoping to find any sign of the betas. They've dealt with Morrow's shifts and antics for years, haven't they? They should know how to solve this, or at least get him sedated again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She catches Ronyn outside of the gathering hall, his attention absorbed in another conversation. Elowen storms towards him with the alpha wolf prowling on her heels. Morrow's presence remains constant. He's there, always. Every exhale from his wolf wafts against her fingertips, and every beat of silence between them is filled with that delicious, melting growl of his. He knows the power of his presence, the way he can sway her to his benefit.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn loses interest in his old conversation in a millisecond. "Shit."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I was told he'd be sedated until he shifted back," Elowen hisses at the beta. "So why the hell did he wake up and break into my room?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The disbelief on Ronyn's facial features hardly eases her frustration. "He hasn't tried to kill you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Gods, is he going to?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The midnight black wolf takes a seat on Elowen's feet, his black wings tucked seamlessly against his spine as those black eyes lift to his mate. Meadow green flickers in his irises, a brief glow as a sign that his wolf and wyng are becoming one. For now, his wolf remains dominant.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And clingy.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Almost instinctively, Elowen's fingers find his ears, scratching them just the way he likes. Damn her for trying to appease Morrow, knowing that one wrong move can piss him right off.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn watches the movement of her fingers, a low jealous growl emanating from his chest. He quickly clears his throat to mutter a quiet apology. "I've never seen this before. He's so... content. Morrow's never satisfied with anything or anyone, certainly not his fucking wolf."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He won't leave me alone."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"And what do you suppose I do, half-breed?" Ronyn smirks a little as he says this. "He's your mate."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎That bloody word makes her insides heat up with wrath. If the moon is the reason behind their bond, then fuck the heavenly planet itself. There must be a way to reverse Morrow's uncontrolled shifts, but it's clear that sedation won't work like it has in the past. Elowen will need to resort to other methods, to other routes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Would Cordea know anything about this?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn pinches the bridge of his nose. "Cordea doesn't know shit."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Arion?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Not his expertise."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Anybody?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Nope," Ronyn crooks his thumb so it points at himself. "I'm all you got to understanding Morrow, but this is uncharted territory."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Now she can't predict Morrow's behaviour. Well, when has she ever? The two of them are still strangers ensnared in the invisible ropes of their matebond. When it feels like she's finally detached from him, he comes waltzing right back into her mind. When she thought she could escape, his arms found her as iron arrows pierced her wings. He's an instinct to her that she just understands. How else could she explain the way her fingers still stroke behind his ears?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She retracts her hand, only to have Morrow lift his wolfish head in disapproval.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn crosses his arms. "Look, it's not ideal, but he's tame. This might be a good learning experience."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"For me or for him?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"For both," and yet Ronyn is the one that takes a step away from them, as if he was afraid of getting his leg bitten to shreds. "Morrow and his wolf don't get along, so maybe this is progress. And you haven't had a chance to know how to treat a were in his shifted form so..." He shrugs. "Just go about your day as normal. Just don't leave the palace and get caught by a terran."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The instruction seems easier said than done.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎After bickering with Ronyn for several more minutes, Elowen surrenders the argument to eat a quick morning meal instead. She pretends like the giant alpha wolf isn't following her footsteps, but everytime her eyes drift to the other were in the dining hall, they all seem to watch her in a mixture of fear and wonderment.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen sinks into a seat across from Cordea and Arion. Both their faces have dropped several shades as Morrow's wolf curls up at his mate's feet.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Their eyes remain peeled on Morrow, who looks up at them in snarls in dislike, barring those canines as a threat to draw blood. But Elowen? She's already grown accustomed to his dominant presence. No growl of disapproval or snarl of disinterest will feign her desire to get him out of her hair.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea scoots away, all while Arion holds a staring contest with Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh fuck," Arion mutters.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen scowls. "I was told to go about my day as normal."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"So you thought you should bring him into the overcrowded dining hall?" Arion shakes his head, wagging his finger with a slight tsk. "You don't do that, bean bag."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Well, it's too late now. He's here."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea keeps scooting away. "I'm assuming Ronyn told you that?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Ronyn said Morrow was tame," Elowen rouses. "Not that anyone believes that. And the sedatives..." She can't answer that, because it's clear whatever they gave him wasn't enough to keep him under. Morrow's cataclysmic shift has met their bitter reality, and they can't end it with a coma.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The sedatives failed," Arion mumbles, gesturing to the were. "The dosage for the pack's alpha must be triple what it is for us. Bet the physicians forgot to take that into account in the rush."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen reaches beneath the table, only to have Morrow's nose brush against her fingertips. She feels a black wing drape against her legs and feet, and she can't resist stroking the silk-soft feathers. It's strange to believe that this ferocious creature can also be so gentle at the same time, and to think both of those words both describe Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea rises from her seat. Judging by her pale cheeks and glossed eyes, she's not comfortable with Morrow in his wolf form. In fact, many of the were are not. Since Elowen's arrival, almost the whole dining hall evacuates in order to distance themselves from their alpha. Shifts between wolf and human should be embraced in Tabrien, but because of Morrow's condition, because of his impure were blood...

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Just keep him out of sight from others, okay?" Cordea asks, her voice quivering. "The whole kingdom can't know that Morrow's currently in his wolf form."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen nods her head. She's been told numerous times that that terrans loathe the were, just as they once despised the wyng. Because Morrow's shifts are so rare, his wolf becomes the paramount of trophies for hunters across Aelethia. One name comes to her mind at the vendetta on Morrow's head.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Alistair Carrin.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It would be so easy to disobey the command and send the were into a frenzy, but she opts for hiding herself away in the library. Morrow trails behind her, stalking through the bookshelves and sniffing furiously in every which direction.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She curls herself up in the windowsill, cosying up as Morrow's wolf situates beside her. His black eyes lock on her as a mischievous glint crosses through them, a spark that she's never seen before. A challenge.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen scowls, knowing exactly what's on his mind. "No."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He licks his tongue over his sharp teeth.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"No, don't you dare—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Too late.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He pounces from the floor, laying his doubling wolfish anatomy on top of hers. Morrow straightens his wings, blanketing her beneath them as he lays his head against her heartbeat. The weight of him should crush her, but it doesn't. In fact, it's oddly pacifying. He sinks closer to her, shutting those black eyes as a low hum vibrates through him. Her inner creature reacts, and the song of her dulcet tune rings through their air out of her grasp.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen attempts to convince herself that this isn't her submitting to his wishes, but rather her coming to terms with the situation.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's not all wicked, right?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her fingertips find his ears, stroking the midnight black fur in delicate strokes. All day she's been trying to find ways to tear him away, but his wolf only wants to be close, to be near. Even when she reaches down that snapped tether, despite the broken frayed edges of it, she feels the ties between them rekindling. Their bond still leaves her with more questions than answers, because she still feels like her and Morrow are the strangest of fits.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The last two wyng in existence strung together in the heavenly chords of the moon herself.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's touch falls past Morrow's ears, down over the runes that protrude from his wolf's flesh. Even beneath the black fur, evidence of the witches mark scorn him in brutal scars. She caresses the rune near his shoulder, hardly letting the pad of her finger scathe him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Those black eyes open in seconds, and a fragment of their broken tether slips into her mind. Fear. She feels his fear, until his wolf blocks her from their link. Then, nothing.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Who are you, Morrow?" she whispers under her breath.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He is the alpha, the leader. Yet, he's fractured and shattered, a fallen angel descending to the pits of the underworld.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She can only wonder why fate placed him in such a vulnerable position. He is their head, a harbinger of a vast province filled with the most mighty of creatures, and yet, he can't do the basics of the were. His shifts like this are cruelly ugly, a sight that not even the lowest of were can handle witnessing. He is the embodiment of fear—fear given to those freely, and fear that dwells deep within his soul.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎For a moment, she wishes Morrow didn't have to hold so much of that, and she bloody well wishes that his cursed fear won't transgress down their tether to herself.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The warmth radiating from his wolfish body causes her to slip into her dreams. For the first time in so long, she indulges in the security she feels in the presence of Morrow's wolf. If anyone dares bring harm to her, his wolf will retaliate with sharp claws and jagged teeth. It's that thought alone that stirs her creature with unrequited happiness. Perhaps, maybe his wolf also finds solace as fragments of his snores seep into her cognition. He's there, a constant warmth and remedy to the master of her nightmares.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Until perhaps, he's not.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎In the midst of her midday nap, she awakens at twilight to the weight of his body lifting from her. The evening moon's glow drapes over those black wings as naked limbs untangle from above her. Her silver hues flicker open, glossy at the sight of a bare chested Morrow gazing down at her with lidded meadow eyes. Skin, not fur. She reaches out to those forsaken runes on his skin, hideously beautiful, her palm sliding down dense muscle until her fingertips slip away.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A low growl echoes through the night, dancing off the leatherbound books and dusted journals. The sound coerces her to shut her eyes once more, and she obeys without taking another breath.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Morrow?" she calls.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A placid kiss presses against her forehead, then nose, then ear, before he's lost betwixt nuzzles and kisses on her throat and shoulder. Canines graze against her pulse, and she tilts her head to grant him access to what he truly wants—to mark her with evidence of him. She said she'd never do such a thing, never let him sink his teeth into her skin, but this newfound part of her longs for him to claim her in every way, shape, and form. Her creature revers in his tepid affections, and Elowen falls into his soft bliss.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A sound caught between a moan and a purr escapes him as he pulls away, just enough so that his hot breath fans against her flesh.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Unlike before, their tether holds no secrecy. In her dreams, it's been reforged back to what it once was, and Morrow's thoughts trickle into her mind as if they flow downstream. The mind-link ignites.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Visions. Just flashes of them, buried deep within the stacks and archives so no one can find them. His meadowed hues lift across the towers of novels to meet her own, but in his vision, she's too busy with reading as a serious furrow bends her brows. Morrow rises from across the table, closing the distance, closing the gap, until both of them become fully entwined. Her nails dig into torn pages of encyclopedias while his form unifies with her own. Glimpses of her hands press against black feathered wings, healing wounded runes at just a touch.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But it's only a vision.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's only what's in his head, or worse, maybe it was conjured deep within hers.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow backs away, his voice dripping from those heavenly lips. "Thank you for keeping me safe, little sparrow."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎As if she hadn't gotten enough sleep, she drifts away as the alpha's kisses burn against her flesh.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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morrow is many things, and a grumpy softy is definitely one of them. i recently posted a small guide/teaser of morrow on my instagram (@/ivynisles), so be sure to check it out if you're morrow's biggest fan! elowen's will be dropping soon, as well as maybe a little glimpse of ronyn (because he's my favourite lol)

the pace is about to pick up very soon! our sparrow can't stay in tabrien forever, can she?

hope you all have an amazing week!

ivy <3