chapter five,     descendants

𝕯arkling

            AFTER ENTERING THE FOLD, HE FELT PISSED. His own glorious creation, the proof of his enormous power and yet, no one knew it was him that made it, and for what was worth of it, his own creation turned against him.

            This was supposed to be a weapon against all of those people that been after his people for centuries. It was supposed to rewrite the world and help him save all of the people that have suffered. Only to be left with a Fold that didn't respond to his power because of the people his power has taken—they became monsters, who were refusing to give in to his abilities just because they weren't created by him. They could be only destroyed by a Sun Summoner.

            Sun Summoners are rare just like Shadow Summoners and that was a clear fact since four centuries passed searching for the person who had that ability and he found no one. To his pleasure, the fold was slowly expanding itself, but it wasn't fast enough and it wasn't under his control.

            The Fold created more problems when he couldn't control it. It would be way easier to silence General Zlatan with a snap of his fingers, but here he was, going through the void he has created himself and he felt like a stranger.

            He averted his eyes from the small, blue light on the deck of the ship, turning his head to the Squaller who was moving this ship forward as there were only a few people there. Whenever it was for the purposes of the Royal Family, only a few people were necessary to cross the Fold, not only smaller ships were safer, but all of the people here knew how to act here.

            Except for this time, there was Liya. But she was managing it well.

            "Could you describe it to me?" her silent voice reached his ears, making her look at him, noticing that she was on edge of breaking that railing in her grip even if she seemed contained at first sight.

            The Darkling was standing behind her, his chest almost brushing with her back as he leaned closer, her body reacting to their close proximity. Leaning to her ear, he murmured, "Oddly soothing."

            The woman breathed in through her nose, gently moving so he could face her side, pressing her lower back to the railing, gripping it with both of her hands. "I believe you only say that because it is a part of your ability."

            "Are you afraid of the dark, Miss Safin?"

            Her lips twitched in the exact same way when she was building up her walls, but to his surprise, she answered, "All I can see is pitch darkness. I wouldn't have lived for so long if I was afraid."

            The Darkling has never thought of her that way – always surrounded by darkness. He liked to think of himself as a better specie because of his abilities and because he knew that others were jealous of the power that was given to him. It took him some time to learn to love the shadows that followed her, so he completely understood her words—she was afraid of the dark until she was left alone with it.

            The main difference between them was that he could control it and she was left there to rot.

            "Do you find the shadows soothing?"

            "It's a part of me. If you want to survive in this world, you have to accept any part of you even if it is darkness," he truthfully replied.

            "Let me guess, your kefta is black."

            The Darkling chuckled, completely forgetting that they were going through the Fold and that he was feeling irritated, "It's definitely not yellow."

            "Why not? It would suit your blond hair."

            The man held himself back from snorting loudly – he shouldn't make any loud noises in the Fold. Blond hair? Saints, he was the complete opposite of any flashy colours. He was the Shadow Summoner and looking at him told the whole story and she had the audacity to imagine him with blond hair.

            "For your knowledge, I'm not with blond hair."

            Liya smiled and his heart beat faster. What the hell was wrong with him?

            "Can't change the image of you now. Too late," she breathed out, her voice slightly mocking.

            Who was this woman? Where was the monotonic Heartrender? And why did he enjoy seeing her like this?

            "That's the biggest insult I have ever received," he dramatically announced, moving to the railing, copying the way she was standing.

            Liya snorted, silently, "My brain creates the image of the person by their voice."

            "And how exactly do you find my voice?"

            The man noticed that she smiled, turning her head away as her cheeks were probably flustered with crimson, but in this darkness, it wasn't visible. Perhaps he wasn't intimidating her as much as he thought he was.

            "It's—manageable to listen," her voice was well-contained.

            Manageable to listen.

            He wanted to close his eyes in some sort of frustration that his ego got a little bit bruised—who says that? But a little scoff left his lips and she gifted him a victorious smile.

            "Are you sulking?" she teased, slightly moving her head to the side where a distant thunder was heard.

            "Not at all, Miss Safin," he hummed, gently stroking his beard as he let out a chuckle. "Manageable to listen. Really?"

            The woman smiled wider, a set of small dimples and smile lines appearing on her cheeks—oh. Never seen her smile like that. "I can't really say anything bad about my General."

            Rolling his eyes, he twisted his body so he could face her, pushing his elbow on the railing, "Is there anything bad about me?"

            "I guess you won't find that out," she sucked in a breath, creating a sound of mocking disappointment while the grin didn't leave her lips.

            Saints, he was smiling like an idiot.

            "I have heard many stories about this place," she admitted, changing the topic as soon as he realised that he should stop smiling. "I have never even thought about how you must feel since your descendant did this."

            Everyone knew the story of the Shadow Fold and the Black Heretic that created it in a sense of madness. Only that the Darkling was the Black Heretic himself and he was pretending to work hard to destroy it, searching for a Sun Summoner. He knew that he was deceiving everyone for the past four countries, faking his deaths, taking different names, and working with different Kings, but he had time. And as long as he had time, he won't stop trying to expand it.

            "It doesn't bother me. I know what I have to do even if he is my descendant," he said, hearing a distant screech of a volcra that alerted the woman to hug herself with her arms in a protective manner.

            "Do you ever think that this Fold wasn't a mistake?"

            Oh?

            The Darkling leaned a little bit closer, "What makes you say that?"

            Liya gently shrugged, tugging on the sleeves of her kefta, "I just think he did it for a reason. I don't think everything is told in the story and it has been centuries. Tales change within time."

            No one except Baghra knew about the creation of the Fold. Because of that, he gets a lot of resentment even nowadays as he has never heard anyone speak about the creation of the Fold in any way that wasn't negative. He didn't think of it as a mistake, he did it for his people, to protect them. Yet all of the stories portrayed him as hungry for power, drowning in his madness. He was hungry for power, but he got the taste of his own medicine when the volcra was created. It was embarrassing, but in no circumstances was this a mistake, a reason for him to be loathed – it was a sign of power.

            That's why her words made him silent for too long.

            "Why do you think he did it?" the Darkling asked.

            Brushing the strand of hair from her cheek, hugging herself again since the temperature in the fold was quite cold, she replied, "Love. Fear. Or the need to protect his beloved ones." She shrugged.

            "You don't think he is evil?"

            "No."

            The Darkling was left speechless.

            "You know that you are probably the only person in the world who thinks this?" He pointed out, his voice raspier than before as he didn't know how to act.

            It was weird to hear someone say that he wasn't evil when everyone loathed the Black Heretic. It almost felt... relieving.

            "As if anyone will listen to my opinion about the Black Heretic."

            "I'll listen," he admitted.

            Slightly furrowing her eyebrows, she turned away, gnawing at her bottom lip with her teeth—she was clearly thinking. She slowly clasped her hands together, pushing them to her chest and only then he could feel that he broke one of her walls. When she turned in his direction, her eyes slightly glossy in the shadows as she whispered, "Thank you."

            His heart thudded again.

            Both of them stood in very comfortable silence for a few minutes. It seemed like he was standing a little bit too close to her for her liking, but she didn't move, she just stood there still, only her head tilted to the distant sounds of volcra.

            "Why can't you sleep in the nights?" the man pried.

            "In order to protect myself," she admitted.

            He raised his eyebrows. "Protect from what?"

            "It is easier to hurt unaware people."

            So she has been hurt badly before. Used by someone. He knew he won't find out what happened if he would ask.

            "You are safe in the Little Palace. It's the safest place for any Grisha," he informed.

            She nodded agreeing, but from the way her lips turned into a frown, he understood that safety for her as a Grisha was the last thing on her list of things she cared about. She hasn't been staying awake because of Fjerdans, she has been staying awake so people wouldn't hurt her. And now he wasn't taking her to the Little Palace.

            He was taking her away from it.                 

· · ─────── ·♔· ─────── · ·

            STEPPING INTO THE MANOR OF GENERAL ZLATAN MADE HIM FEEL IRRITATED. The décor was better than in the Palace, but as soon as he saw that cheeky idiot make his way to them, wearing the uniform with countless medals, he was considering the possibility to throw up. He wasn't even on a battlefield once.

            "Ah!" Zlatan exclaimed, a wide smile on his face, "I didn't expect for you to show up this early."

            "General Zlatan, we made sure to not keep you waiting for too long," the Darkling said, his voice calm as he didn't want to appear too aggressive. Both of the Generals shook their hands and the smaller one looked at the little crew that came all the way from East Ravka. It was just him, the Heartrender and two King's messengers.

            "Who is this beautiful woman?" He stepped to the side, standing right in front of Liya, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles as if her kefta wasn't making him sick to the stomach.

            Liya clearly was confused, but she placed a tight smile on her lips, "I'm Liya Safin."

            "What a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman. I am General Zlatan," he introduced himself, releasing her hand and the Darkling couldn't help and rolled his eyes. "Let's have some tea, shall we?"

            All of them followed him, the Darkling holding the arm of Liya as they walked into a spacious office, they sat down on a couch, Zlatan in front of him as he sat beside Liya and the messengers sat at the end of the room. They were only there for observation, not the business.

            "The King directed me to you. I hope you won't be displeased about his decisions," Zlatan started, his voice sly.

            It wasn't the first time he has met him. Zlatan was one of the cockiest bastards in the whole Ravka. He got the whole General title from his father who passed away and he now, did the dirtiest business in the whole Ravka – he captured and sold Grisha to Fjerda or Shu Han. The Darkling wanted to slit his throat, but he couldn't do that without any evidence. That's why he was here – to find or fake some evidence and publicly execute him in that way for the Civil War to not rise.

            "We have been postponing our meeting for a long time now," the Darkling reminded.

            The brown-haired man chuckled, "You must understand, the situation at the border is really tense."

            The Shadow Summoner forced himself not to snort at his words. As if he was interested in the wars by the borders. "I understand – I paid a visit at some of the camps."

            "How generous of you," Zlatan sweetly mumbled. Then, he averted his look on the Heartrender that was sitting beside him. "A Heartrender?"

            "Barely," she replied, clasping her hands together, keeping a distance between the two.

            General Zlatan smiled and the Darkling wanted to toss the table at him that was separating them. "I don't believe that. A woman with such a pleasing face like yours should not doubt herself like that."

            Liya nervously smiled, her cheeks turning soft crimson and the Darkling felt like screaming. What was this infatuation tactic? He sounded like an idiot.

            "You are too kind, General," she softly replied and she raised her head to face his direction.

            The man looked at her for a few seconds, slightly furrowing his eyebrows, "You must forgive me my bluntness, Liya, but are you sightless?"

            "Oh," a surprised sound left her lips, rubbing her hands together, "yes, I am. I apologise for not stating that sooner."

            The General seemed oddly satisfied by this fact, "There is no need to apologise. I'm quite amazed to meet a sightless Grisha. Nature—has its course."

            She offered him a tight smile and nodded as a few maids appeared in the room, holding trays with prepared tea. As they were placing the teas down on the table and a variety of the Ravkan pastries, General Zlatan spoke:

            "I am sure that we can discuss the issue with the King after the tea in my office, General?"

            "The issue is a very soft word to describe the rumours we are dealing with, Zlatan," his voice almost pathetically declared his name.

            The man with the clinging uniform sighed as if hurt by that statement, "I hope we will be able to put all of those rumours down. As I stated to the King, I am searching for the ones who are spreading the rumours."

            "Right," the Darkling hummed as the maid came closer to him, placing the cup of tea in front of him and at the same time, he saw Liya freeze, her face losing blood as if she felt someone do something horrible.

            "Oh, my! Is that peppermint tea I smell?" Liya exclaimed, her voice rushed and overly joyful.

            The tea in his hands was indeed peppermint tea.

            Liya slightly tapped the table, leaning forwards, finding the porcelain cup of hers and gently pushing it towards the Darkling, "I'm not a really big fan of spice tea and I know that my General loves it just as much as I love peppermints. Let's change?"

            Saints, she fluttered her eyelashes so sweetly.

            Her rushed tone and the tense smile on her lips made him absolutely flabbergasted.

            "Oh, there is no need for that, Liya! I will just ask for the maid to make--," Zlatan panicked

            "No no!" Liya interrupted, masking her excited behaviour with a polite giggle. "We can just switch. There is no need to bother your hospitality, General Zlatan."

            The Darkling extended his tea towards her, dragging it through the table and she quickly took it, gulping it down in one go, releasing a choke since the tea was hot and within a few seconds, she swallowed it, her face crimson from the pain.

            What—what did he just witness?

            Judging from Zlatan's face, he was just as surprised by her erratic behaviour just like she was. The lifted silence was interrupted by the way she placed the cup on the table, gently pushing her tea towards the Darkling.

            "I apologise for my behaviour – I was completely perished," her voice was dry, but somehow politely excited.

            "No, don't—apologize," Zlatan's voice was distant as he was looking at the woman with wide eyes. "I will try to remember that you like peppermint tea from now on."

            Liya politely nodded and the Darkling leaned back on the cushion, eyebrows visibly furrowed until a little drop appeared on her forehead, her body twisted to the side a little bit as she clasped her hands silently.

            Did she just drink poison meant for him?