CHAPTER FOUR
BLESSING OR CURSE
[04]

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Jesper Fahey didn't always used to call the alleyways of Ketterdam his home. It was once a jurda farm in west Novyi Zem, home to him and his parents.

They were a happy family, with his Kaelish father and Zemeni mother. He was particularly gifted in working with small metals; spoons into rings, coins into keys. Which he inherited the small science from his mother, a Durast like him.

He cherished her with the strength of the sun. She taught Jesper everything she knew about how to shoot— and he was a natural.

The Zemeni believed being Grisha was a blessing. They called them the "blessed."

And Jesper did truly feel blessed. He had a loving mother and father and powers that made him feel special.

But then one day he stopped.

"Jesper I want you to promise me something." His father said to him in a hushed voice. Dried tear tracks were on his father's cheeks and more tears threatened to fall. "Promise me you won't ever tell anyone of what you can do and never use your powers. You must keep then hidden, do you understand?"

A young Jesper nodded. "I understand, papa."

His father left the room wordlessly and Jesper laid in his bed, staring out the window. The cherry tree outside seemed to be in mourning with him. Earlier that day they had buried his mother under that cherry tree.

Jesper really did understand why his father didn't want him using his powers. It's what killed his mother— his mother had to use her abilities to save a young girl from poison. But if she hadn't been Grisha, the poison wouldn't have affected her.

He recalled what the Zemeni believed about Grisha. They believed Grisha were "blessed." But right now, he didn't think being a Grisha was a blessing. It felt like a curse.

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A small Ravkan girl loved to stay up late at night, even though the orphanage had a strict bedtime. She would read in a small dark corner with a small candle lit and envisioned the fantastical worlds from her pages. There was more outside the walls of the orphanage and people to meet and romance of experience. She wanted it all.

Whenever Ms. Gustev checked up on the children to make sure they were asleep, Freya Petrovik was never caught.

It wasn't by the creek in the old wooden stairs that she knew someone was coming. But she could sense them, their heartbeats drawing near. And then she could hastily blow out the candle and slip quietly under her covers.

The other orphan children had tried to scare her — jumping from behind doors, scary masks — but she always knew they were coming. They called her the fearless, unafraid of anything they had tried.

And she hadn't ever been scared by their antics, she had never experienced fear. Until the day the testers came when she was 9.

It wasn't that she never wanted to leave the little world she had currently, but the outside world was new and frightening. On paper it's laid out and predictable, stuck ink on pages. This possibility could lead her to someone she'd never been and a life she'd never felt.

From her knowledge, the Grisha were powerful people who were able to summon and manipulate matter and life itself. They were to be feared.

The other kids in front of her had not been Grisha and they were sent away to do as the pleased afterwards.

Freya was the last to be tested. She stepped forward.

"It'll be quick and easy, just hold my hand." The woman said and outreached her hand towards Freya. She wore a fur hat over her short dark hair and a beautiful blue coat with orange and red embroidery, the colors of fire. "We're testing you to see if you're Grisha."

"I'll only be a second." The other coated woman reassured. She was not in blue like the one testing Freya. Instead she wore a purple coat with black embroidery.

Freya took the hand outreached. She instantly felt the woman's heart, beating loudly and squeezing slightly. The woman yelped and swiftly took her hand back.

"She is Grisha, a Corporalnik."

"What is your name, child?"

At that moment she felt small, and so did her voice. "Freya Petrovik."

"Freya, you life changes today."

The next events happened so fast, Freya hardly remembers it. One second she had just been tested and the next second she was being escorted into a carriage by the two women in the colored coats.

The carriage led them to a beautiful building with ornate architecture. A palace.

"We're in Os Alta now, this is your new home: the Little Palace."

Os Alta— the capital of Ravka she recalled, and the famous Little Palace where identified Grisha grow up and reside.

Freya stared out the window at the building. Several other carriages were pulling up to the front of the building as well. Other children that were tested, she suspected.

The carriage stopped and the women ushered Freya out. In front of the Little Palace's entrance, a tall man stood. He had a dark and overbearing presence. Like the two women leading Freya, he wore a long embroidered coat. Except his was pitch black like his ink-black hair.

His piercing eyes glanced over Freya and he gave a small nod.

"She is Corporalki."

The man simply hummed in dismissal.

The women led her away into the Little Palace's halls and into a room. It was to be her chambers for the years to come.

The first nights Freya cried into her pillow. It was soft and silky, the nicest thing she had ever felt, but constantly wet with her tears. She missed her room back at the orphanage with worn down sheets and worn down clothes and her books.

Her ratted bed was replaced with luxurious fabrics, her clothes were replaced with a similar colored coat that the women who tested her wore— which she learned were called keftas— and her books were replaced with combat lessons and school.

She should be grateful for the upgrade to a life where she was fed everyday and given a roof over her head. But there was an ache in her heart.

Her lessons were with the other Corporalki. They consisted of autopsies. Playing with the dead's hearts and spending enough time with them to become one was a heavy toll.

They were nameless and often times Freya's mind drifted. Would she become one of them? Just a body on a slab for others to touch the cold skin and do as they please?

After the trainings, the Corporalki were then separated into Healers and Heartrenders. Freya was given a crimson kefta, marking her permanently as Grisha and a heartrender.

Freya was now training to be a soldier for a disgusting king and a cruel general, and in her eyes, being Grisha was a curse, not a blessing.

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