And so, Azrael sat in the darkness of his room, motionless, eyes fixed on the floor, probably torn apart by the fact that he could not act.
The knowledge that humans were dying somewhere at that very moment gnawed at him from within, each heartbeat a silent scream.
In his chest there was only bitterness, the kind that belongs to those who know but cannot intervene.
"Sometimes… I wonder why I feel this way…I've asked myself that ever since I was born…"
His voice was little more than a breath, fading into the cold air.
His right hand pressed hard against the center of his chest, as if trying to tear out his own heart, to cast away the weakness that made him human.
He despised this feeling with every fiber of his being.
He despised the mercy that chained him.
The constant need to protect the very same species that had rejected him, even knowing they would go on to commit unspeakable sins.
Why? Only fate and the gods could answer.
Azrael had never harmed a human in his entire life, no matter how vile they were.
Not because of pity alone, but something deeper bound him.
It was as if an invisible pact forbade him from crossing that line.
To harm another human would mean to break himself.
That was why, even as a child, the world never understood him.
On multiple occasions in his past, Azrael didn't act like people around him wanted.
That's why he was often seen as "strange", and "fake".
"Jeez…" he sighed bitterly, removing his boots and sitting on the bed.
Exhaustion draped over him like a shadow.
The only way to silence his thoughts was to surrender to sleep.
He set aside his cloak, lay down, and turned to face the wall when suddenly, something felt wrong.
A scent lingered in the air , faint, feminine… familiar.
Then a warm breath brushed the side of his neck.No one was there, yet he wasn't alarmed.
"…sooner or later, your kindness will be the end of you, Azrael. You know that better than anyone."
A woman's voice.
Gentle, teasing and painfully familiar.
Azrael exhaled slowly. "I thought it was you…"
And in that moment, she revealed herself.
Freya.
Or rather, she allowed herself to be seen.
She had been there all along, perfectly hidden.
Now, face to face, on the same bed.
The distance between them was fragile as a heartbeat.
"Even if you knew, why didn't you say anything?" she teased. "You could've told me to leave. You could've tried to kill me."
Azrael's eyes stayed half-lidded, unmoved.
"I don't think it would be that easy… and besides…"
"Besides… what?" She asked, her voice teasing but firm.
Their faces were now only inches apart.He sighed softly.
"…I know you'd never hurt me."
For a moment, Freya froze.
The meaning sank in.
"I trust you." Is what he actually said.
Her heart stirred.
Azrael? showing emotion? That was rarer than sunlight in the underworld.
"You can't be sure of that," she whispered, almost playfully. "People change. I could cast a spell right now and blow you to pieces."
Azrael sighed again.
"I doubt you're that foolish. Though I suppose for elves, intelligence is… difficult."
"…I see." She said, with a pout.
Her tone turned icy.
In a flash, she moved, summoning a spectral dagger in her left hand and thrusting forward, straight for his throat.
The strike was perfect, aimed at the most vital artery... but it stopped.
The blade halted just a breath away from his skin, trembling, humming with deadly energy.
The impact stirred their hair, a silent shockwave of restrained power.
Azrael didn't flinch.
He hadn't even tried to block it.
Freya blinked, confused.
"Eh? Why didn't you stop me?"
For a heartbeat, the corners of Azrael's lips curved in the faintest, ghostlike smile.
"Because you're too predictable. As I said, I know you'd never hurt me."
A blush crossed Freya's cheeks before she turned away sharply, annoyed, but her heart raced like wildfire.
She hated how alive it made her feel.
She was feeling... embarassed?
No, probably more than that.
Her soul felt a glimpse of happiness.
The fact of still having the trust of Azrael, even though being separated for years, was a big thing for her.
Silence stretched between them, heavy yet strangely peaceful.
"So… why are you here, Freya?" Azrael said, breaking the silence.
"N-no real reason. I just… wanted to see how you were." She spoke softly.
"And…?" He added.
"…I wanted to tell you the children are fine. They're asleep. The Master said we'll start training them tomorrow." Freya said, avoiding Azrael's eyes.
Freya's voice softened as the dagger dissolved into mist, leaving a faint green glow on her hand.
Azrael exhaled, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.
"Tomorrow, then. What kind of training?"
"Only the basics. No advanced magic, no combat spells. The Master wants them to learn control, not destruction. They're too little to fight monsters."
She hesitated, her tone deepening.
"Those children are… different, Azrael. Their power is in their blood. Even the Master fears it. That's why he wants you and me to discuss the plan tomorrow. And that's also the reason of why he wanted to save them more than anyone."
"…Understood." Azrael said.
Another silence fell.
It was fragile, delicate, intimate.
Even their breathing seemed synchronized, as if the night itself had paused to listen.
"How long do you plan on staying here?" Azrael finally asked.
Freya smiled faintly.
"Maybe all night… just to make sure you don't sneak out to save another human, just like a few years ago."
"I can't do anything. Not this time. And this is the only thing that is hurting me." Azrael replied.
Her smile faded.
She sat at the edge of the bed, fingers intertwined, staring at the floor.
It looked like she didn't want to leave.
Not after all these years apart.
Her heart ached... a quiet, beautiful pain.
"Are you sure you won't do anything reckless?" Freya said, while "playing" with her fingers, nervously.
Azrael didn't reply. His silence was its own answer.
"Can I trust you?"
Still no response.
Finally, her voice softened to a whisper.
"Promise me you won't go."
Azrael let out a long breath.
"I promise. At least for now. I'm loyal to the order of our Master."
Freya nodded, and for her, that was enough.
She rose slowly; her cloak whispered through the air.
And just like that, she vanished into mist, leaving only the scent of her presence behind.
Azrael kept sitting on the bed, eyes half-closed.
"Jeez…"
A faint smile crossed his lips.
"…why is that elf the only being in this world who can make me talk like a normal human?"
The room fell silent once more.
Only the pale moonlight remained — gentle, eternal — keeping vigil over the hunter who could not sleep.