Iryndra [2]

For a moment, Azriel's mind froze, unable to process the absurdity of the words that had just come out of the small girl's mouth.

That smile—fragile yet weighed down with sadness—made something in him twist. His expression shifted, cycling through confusion, bewilderment, and finally, disbelief.

'I must have really lost my mind...'

Yet no matter how irrational it seemed, Azriel couldn't turn his back on this girl—a Heptarch.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he forced his emotions under control. His voice came out soft but firm.

"What makes you think you're going to die?"

Iryndra looked up, her eyes shimmering, the flickering firelight reflected within them like fragile glass about to shatter. For a second, Azriel almost found himself captivated by those eyes. Almost.

She spoke in a low, trembling voice, each word tinged with an aching vulnerability.