The chamber was silent; the only sound that could be heard was the soft whistling of the blowing wind sneaking in through the crevices of the glass windows.
Scanning the room with a hawk-like gaze, Azazeal searched for the delicate figure he'd just been holding in his arms, moments before. She hadn't been there when he woke up, and his arms felt empty, a sensation he was still struggling to come to terms with.
His eyes soon focused on Elora whose tiny body was outlined by the flood of moonlight falling through the window. She stood with her back pressed against the windowsill, head tilted back, eyes trained on the star-speckled sky.
The light embraced her soft features, illuminating her like an angel. There was a palpable innocence in her expression that quietly ignited something deep within Azazeal, a sensation that daunted him, but one he had no intention of smothering.
His expression remained one of feigned indifference, but his heart was beating more rapidly.
