Five years later.

The ship was rocking in tandem with the treacherous waves underneath it, each shift, each movement forcing bile to pool in her mouth as she looked upon the horizon, trying to seem completely and utterly at ease in her supposed element with her face blank and empty. Delia had forgotten how much she'd come to despise the ocean, forgotten how it felt beneath her as she stood at the hull, arms folded diligently behind her back with nothing in her dark gaze that flickered red with every passing minute, like a tailor was dancing her hand across her and making them change to show her monstrosity.

It was an easy thing to forget after all, many things were when she'd been in the disgusting underbelly of the world for years, searching for something that either didn't exist or did and would be the final nail in her coffin of sin, or be her demise...And yet here she stood, power rushing through her veins like a promise of things to come, and her gloves that slipped up all the way to her elbow holding a rather strange and pointed bulge over the top of her left hand, right over the second knuckle where something vile and venemous lay beneath her prison of flesh.

She swallowed tightly, taking one last look at the quickly approaching land of Ravka that had once seemed so far out of reach, before she turned her back and strolled over towards where Larisa Rominova stood watching her carefully as if she was a bomb about to blow the ship into smithereens beneath their feet, a fellow tide-maker who'd been her companion for the years she'd been away on the generals orders, lingering on the ship and awaiting the moment she, herself, could go home to the Little Palace when the basilisks blood was finally spilled to Delia's wicked will.

There was a certain fear in her gaze as she watched the shu girl walk towards her, a certain hesitation, a caution that hadn't been there at the start of her journey...but something that had transpired in time when she'd witnessed the aftermath of destruction, when she'd watch creatures and humans alike being brought to their knees with agonising screams with a mere twitch of what was once soft fingers, when she'd watch crimson morality rise into the open like deadly currents, bending to her will with the taste of rust and copper heavy in the air like a deadly threat that only got worse as the weeks turned into months and months turned into years.

"The general will want to speak to you about your...process when you get back, would you like me to take your things up to your room?" Larisa spoke softly, afraid to speak louder than a whisper as dark eyes looked upon her mortal flesh with a sinful nonchalance that seemed almost dead, like the life had been sucked out of her and leaving only her curse in its place.

"I don't care what you do, just stay out of my way." She finally said, her voice a cruel and rough whisper from a throat that had once screamed until it was raw, bloody and scarred on a night stained with sin and death, sending shivers down the actual tide-makers spine as the noise scraped against her ears like nails on chalk, trying desperately to ignore her own traitorous body as it tried to move, to get away from the ominous monster standing in front of her, wearing the skin of what was once one of her own, what was once human but now something so much worse as it stared at her with eyes that flickered red.

And Delia knew it too, could taste the fear in the air like a flavour on her tongue as she kept her dark unblinking gaze trained upon Larisa, watching the way she shook, the way she curled in on herself protectively, the way she'd pulled herself taunt, almost as it she was preparing for some kind of fight...as if that could help her if she decided to show her just how monstrous the world had made of her, her agonies stripping her raw and vengeful and dangerous.

But then there was shouts from the others, an excitement that the shu girl could feel as her fingers twitched by her side as if furious that it wasn't she who was making them her puppets as she felt their hearts pounding, breaths catching and their blood racing inside their prisons of flesh like a river red with crimson sin. The little palace was closer than it had been before, no longer a mere blur in the distance, but now something still and real as she stared at it darkly, trying to swallow the rage that sliced open her bloodied throat until it hurt, and not even caring when Larisa used her distraction to her advantage and practically ran down to the hull away from the not quite tide-maker.

Her hand gave a sudden tremor, clenching and unclencing into a tight fist as she felt something sharp and deadly threaten to cut upen the blue velvet of her gloves.

All those years ago, Delia had left the Little Palace scared and terrified, ruined from unrelenting cruelty from the other grisha who looked upon her like she was nothing more than a curse. It was almost funny looking back at it, at her life that she'd wanted to end because of the monsters the others made of themselves, the bruises that had lingered, the venemous words that haunted her mind like a siren's song, their ignorance, her isolation, her death. They, themselves had come to the Palace for salvation, and yet in the same breath they made it a place of damnation for the likes of her, the broken one, the cursed one, the one who was horrified and scared.

But oh, how the tides had changed, how they had drowned and torn apart and sunk the most merciful parts of her soul into the abyss below. Her hand that had once trembled with fear reminded steady and bloody, her shoulders holding the weight of the call of destruction, the taste of copper, of blood on her tongue as the others moved around the ship, their mortal corpses always under the threat of becoming her weapons as her fingers twitched and danced and longed to make them bow to her glorious purpose.

There was some part of her that wondered if they even remembered her, wondered if they remembered the girl they had a hand in slaughtering, wondered if they thought her dead or cowardly when she'd left without a trace in the quiet of the night. But there was a bigger, more threatening part of her that hoped they did, because she wanted them to know it was she that could bring them all to their knees if she so wished it. The girl she was had died at sea, and the only thing that survived out of her rotting corpse was her love for something she didn't dare name in the fear of staining it...like blood to white cloth.

All those years ago, Delia had left the Little Palace scared and terrified, running away with fear blossoming inside her veins from the very ideals meant to protect her and their monstrous intentions from the other grisha who'd condemned her...but now, she was coming home, coming back to change the world as the General once promised, only now...it was she who would be the monster...and they would be the horrified ones...and it was her choice in whether she'd help save the world...or destroy it.

"Get ready to dock. And make sure none of you breathe a word of our journey to anyone until I give you permission...we're going home."
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Disclaimer

I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but this was more of a hint to show just how much things and certain characters have changed. But don't worry, the next chapter should be longer...and perhaps we'll catch a glimpse of our favourite tailor. 👀