Shadowsinger Azriel Acotar Novels & Stories

Break the rules and we kill you, why sugarcoat it? Before Hexton can get another word out, one of the competitors steps forward, frantically unzipping the back of her bodysuit and pulling her headpiece off revealing her face to a shocked crowd. She’s new to The Tournament and goes by the codename Azrael, named after the Angel of Death because that is exactly what she is. She prefers to give people painless deaths, allowing them to just go peacefully in their sleep. I feel perhaps Hexton invited her this year just to shake things up. The fact she gives people such painless deaths indicates an amount of compassion many of us don’t possess, which doesn’t make her suited for this type of thing a

“Not for a fight you can see, but for the ones hiding in plain sight.” Azeriel shifts, the golden and red mix of his fire flaring faintly in response to the tension. “I’ve faced enemies with swords and armies. Never with shadows and whispers.” He lets out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.” Rowan touches his arm, steadying both his fire and his resolve. “We’ll learn. Together.” Her voice is calm, but her grip tightens instinctively as if the strength of the fire beneath their feet could be lent to him.

“That’s my girl! Now let’s go; we’re almost late.” I nodded, slowly pulled out, and turned on the engine, “Woohoo! It’s going to be a great night!” she cheered. I forced a grin and drove off. Oh Moon Goddess, protect me. **************************** AZRIEL “You know what, Asher? I’m fucking thinking of all the ways I’m going to kill that useless Beta of yours,” Axel growled, pulling my attention from the crowd. My eyes flicked to him. He was swirling his glass, gaze fixed on the crowd below.

I asked, and the voice chuckled. “I told you already. Death … but you can call me Azrael.” The shadows began to peel back and an eerie blue light began to glow. With the light, a dark figure was revealed. A black cloak was draped over its body and head. Azrael tilted his head up, and I looked at him in shock. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but not the silver eyes that met with mine. Nor the chiseled jaw and muscular chest that was revealed from the swaying of the cloak. His face was flawless, and to be honest … he was beautiful. It wasn’t a matter of opinion, he simply was a beautiful man—or creature.

I’m not anyone, I’m Aaliyah, assassin of the Italian mafia known as Shadow of death. There is no stopping me when I start. Every single last target had to die was my motto. If you didn’t plan to die any time soon then don’t approach me. But I had to restrain myself from killing the last one because I knew Dominic probably wanted to question him so I only knocked him out. I was back to normal and I turned my attention back to the people who were standing a few feet away from all of this that had just happened.

And like her every day in that realm, she'd always be greeted by the Azul's cold gaze. Azul Refirtaum was known as the Lord of Shadows when he was still free. He was the longest living Conqueror of the Dead. According to the chieftain who took care of her since the day she woke up from a long time coma, Azul was the strongest and most intelligent among all the Lord of Shadows that conquered the dead. He was also a kind, sympathetic and loving person that is why a lot of people idolizes him and believes in him.

He looked at him the way Maren's people had learned to look at him: as a variable they had underestimated. "You could just let me go," Sorn said. "I could," Aldric agreed. "I'm not going to." "This doesn't end with him in custody," Sorn said, meaning Maren. "Men like him don't end in courtrooms. This is all performance." "Maybe," Aldric said. "But the names in the lower archive aren't performance. The eleven pages aren't performance. The woman in the eastern market whose son was killed twelve years ago and was told it was vampires — she's not performance." He looked at Sorn steadily. "You're going back. And the record is going to say your name correctly."

Even Sophia had insisted on staying close, her eyes scanning the crowd for the slightest movement. Azriel’s gaze locked with Paige’s as she approached. He was filled with love and adoration for the woman who had supported him through heartbreak, magic, and betrayal. But below his composed appearance, he was still cautious. He could feel it; a dark energy lurking and a presence nearby. The crowd went quiet as Paige reached the altar. Azriel extended his hand toward her, and his lips parted in a soft smile. And that was when it happened. A sharp sound pierced the silence, a faint, almost inaudible hiss as someone moved from the shadows. The crowd gasped as a figure appeared from behind one of

He groaned, licking his lips and sucking his teeth. “Elijah never knows when to stop, does he? It's sad that I'll have to send your body back to him. Again.” Without hesitation, Azriel sprang into action, his movements fluid and precise. He grabbed the vampire and punched him right in the face, a tortured scream ripped out of his lips as I heard a sickening crack. Azriel fought with an intensity that left me breathless, each strike calculated and efficient. It was as if he were a different person, a warrior protecting what was his. I realized then that there was so much more to him than met the eye, a depth of strength and determination I had underestimated.