07||JUST NOT HOME

The air of the valley was fraught with gunfire and screams. Coldness seeped into her bones, blood drenching the snow all around her. With a groan, Anya stirred, quickly shooting up. How long had she been out? She looked around, death grabbing her by the throat and dread pooling in her stomach as her eyes scanned over the unraveling massacre in front of her. Drüskelle rained down from the mountainous sides of the valley, rifles shooting round after round. With a flurry of hands movements, a tidemaker flung a wave of snow, capturing a few of the grisha hunters in it.

"Are you okay?" She yelled, trying to be heard above the sound of the battle before a bullet whizzed through the air, piercing her abdomen on the inside of her kefta as her body keeled over onto the Oryalen woman. Dropping to her knees, she cradled the other woman's body in her lap, pushing her bright hair from her face. "No no no, it's going to be okay!" The young grisha woman muttered as she tried to stop the bleeding, the light already leaving her eyes.

A Drüskelle headed at the inferni in full speed, axe raised high. With the snap of her fingers, fire blossomed at the center of her palms, slinging it into his face as he dropped to the ground, screaming in agony. Flipping the axe in her hand, Anya looked around, spotting a gunman taking aim at a heartrender before cocking her arm backwards. The axe swung through the air, lodging itself deep into the skull of the Drüskelle, the heartrender nodding a thanks. Anya surveyed once more, her heart sinking. Everywhere she looked, grisha dropped dead on the ground even more then the Drüskelle combined.

The raven-haired's hands clapped together, a mighty wave of flames shooting from in between them, lighting the trees, lighting the gunmen, lighting everything in the path of her rage. Something inside her snapped, thinking of Zhana, Ilya, even Anastasia and the others. They were losing. They were dying. The Oryalen woman's chest heaved, fury coursing beneath the surface as blood and tears fell down her face, screaming her vocal cords raw.

Breathing deeply, her nostrils flared before she bunched her hands into fists, the sea of fire stopping its flow. Silence cracked through the air, and for a minute only the rustling of the trees could be heard. The inferni knew that it wouldn't last long. The Drüskelle were rarely with few, more were bound to come their way, especially after the hellfire she had just released. "ZHANA! ILYA!" She shouted as she looked around, heart racing madly in her chest.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anya saw a speck of purple lying in the snow, another man ontop of him. "Ilya!" The raven-haired skidded to a stop, pushing the Drüskelle off him, relieved that he only had a wound on his leg. "A-Anya." He sighed, thanking the saints that it was his friend. A laugh split on their faces as the raven-haired hauled him up, helping him lean on her. A few grisha stood up, some dazed and confused while others howled in sadness over their fallen friends. "Anya! Ilya!" A voice shouted behind The Oryalen woman. Zhana ran to them, ice blonde hair whipping around her head. The squaller wrapped her arms around them, happy that they were spared.

"I- I can't- I can't believe they would do this. My own people." The young girl cried into the inferni's shoulder who shot a knowing look to the Durast. A wounded healer, two heartrender with a few cuts, Zhana, Ilya with his wounded leg, they were the last ones alive. They were what was left of their batalion. "Anastasia! Ana! Where are you?" A girl with hair as red as copper, a blazing red kefta with black embroidery fluttering around, walked towards them.

"Thank the saints that you're alright Anya." The heartrender smiled. She reminded her of Genya, but instead of tailoring skills, the copper haired woman was a skilled heartrender. "Care to put your secret healing skills to use?" Anya said, looking at Ilya as he grunted. Anastasia quirked her eyebrow up at the remark, eyes widening slightly. Most heartrenders were limited in their healing but despite the rules, the Vasilieva woman honed them in secret.

"Let me see." Zhana shouldered his other arm as they put him down to sit on the ground, Ana's hands softly skimming over them as the blood seemed to flow back, the wound slowly knitting itself back together. "It's okay for now but you'll have to be careful." The heartrender said, standing back up as she held out her hand and pulled him up. Lonesome and silent, the group of six made their way through the dense forest, mourning weighing heavy on their shoulders with death on their heels.

The durast looked back over the battlefield, breath caught in his throat. The raven-haired looked at him worried and confused "What's wrong?" He blinked back tears in his eyes as he answered, his voice cracking. "This isn't war. This is genocide."

______________*~【☀️】~*_____________

"Welcome home." The voice echoed around the room. No one, not the oprichniki, not the guards, not the grisha order, not even The Oryalen woman herself could believe what was going on, shaking from the hold he had over her head. 'Don't show how you feel unless they need to be reminded that you're human.' She remembered the words a friend had once spoken years ago, suspicion creeping up her back.

Stepping away, Kirigan held her at an arms length and as the young grisha woman looked at him he almost seemed...genuinely happy. "Happy to back...moi soverenyi." She said, mustering herself to it. The general eyed her, scanning her figure up and down. "Your kefta...it's black." He said hesitantly. "I'll have a new one fetched for you." He nodded at a servant, a sign that arrangements should start right away. "Actually I've come to quite like the color black." The inferni furrowed her brow, the edge of her lips curling up as she slightly raised her head in defiance.

Anya recognized Marie and some others but saw no sign of Zoya or the sun summoner. Or Genya, although it was highly unlikely that she was at the little palace. Murmurs shifted throughout the room, grisha muttering among themselves. The shadow summoner was the only one allowed to wear the color, surely she must've know that? "We need to debrief urgently. Follow me." He quickly replied, cutting through the awkward gossiping in the room as a row of grisha followed the darkling to his war chamber. Dark double doors swung open, a large map stretching over a table in the middle of the room as old ones, with ink engraved on leather, hung on the wall. Anya filed inside, quickly followed by Ivan, Fedyor and a few oprichniki guards.

Ivan's hand raised up in a quick motion and the raven-haired could feel the slight tug at her heart, knowing what it meant. 'Ivan you asshole.' She thought. "Almost Sankta, can you tell us what happened?" She sucked in a breath, steadying herself as she formulated the answer. "We were sent north the help at the Fjerdan frontline but on the way there we were...ambushed, by Drüskelle, in the wolf's mouth valley." The Oryalen woman closed her eyes, unease brimming in ever corner of her being, as she took another breath.

"They were with so many that we didn't even stand a chance. I was able to put the first wave off for some time so we got out. Even though only a few had survived, our wounded slowed us down and we-" The black general's hand softly laid atop of the young grisha woman's shoulder in a show of comfort as his eyes scanned the map. "We failed to evade capture. They smuggled us through the tip of the fold, saying that the storms in the north east and permafrost were getting too fierce, and onto a put us on a boat before heading to Djerholm. Once there, they brought us to our cells in the Ice Court." The inferni finished, pointing across the map where they'd been, shivering at the thought of the icy tundra.

A guard scoffed. "Are you saying that you escaped the most high security prison in the world? I'm not sure if I believe you." Anya was ready to snap at him, annoyed but instead opted to bite her tongue. At least, with a sparky remark. "I missed the part where that's my problem." Fedyor left out a small chuckle, quickly regaining his composure before shooting her a wink. "We were with 6 and some other grisha that they had picked up before. Cass and Tia...they killed them on that boat. When we finally got out, it was just Ilya, Zhana and I..." the raven-haired swallowed.

"Must've been hard to see her own Fjerdan scum people kill grisha." A guard muttered under his breath, almost sure that he couldn't be heard. The wind was knocked out of his lungs as he was pushed to the ground by the Oryalen woman, faster then an arrow cutting through the air, silent like the wind, a knee planted on his chest and her dagger at his throat. "Now you listen to me and you listen very well." The young grisha woman snarled, teeth bared as if she planned on ripping him to pieces with them. "Zhana Helvar wasn't Fjerdan scum. She was one of the bravest and most kindhearted people I ever met and twice the soldier you'll ever be. So if you don't watch your words, if you don't shut up, I'll gut you like a fish and take away whatever it is that you call your dick and balls but frankly, there isn't much."

She pressed the dagger to his throat, just piercing the skin as droplets of blood pelted down. Ivan and one of the other Oprichniki scrambled to tear her of the man who seemed like he could slip into unconsciousness any second now. The second heartrender felt the pounding of the inferni's heart, adrenaline ragging through her before a small motion with his hands, manipulating her to the point of calming down. She took a deep breath, trying to settle what she was feeling before turning around.

"Thank you Fedyor." He nodded, presenting himself with a smile on his face but she could see the pity that hid in his eyes as he looked straight at her. Ivan only had a smug expression on his, seemingly glad that she behaved this way in front of Kirigan. "Everybody out." his voice suddenly rang through the air. The air was fraught with shock and unease, hurried glances shared with one another before everyone filed out of the room, leaving the two of them alone once more.

As soon as the door echoed shut, the tension in the room changed. Slowly, the general turned to her, inching closer as he did. Anya kept looking straight ahead, not being able to bear his heavy gaze, as her jaw clenched. "Please." He whispered, his tone so soft and fragile, his voice wavering. "Please look at me." He begged, desperate for even a glance. A lump formed in her throat, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the dark, blackened wood. Finally, the raven-haired looked his way, his hand carefully landing on her cheek.

A shiver of dread went down her spine, a turmoil of distress rippling through her at the feeling of his hand on the rip of her cheek. "Who did this to you?" The Oryalen woman swallowed, closing her eyes as if she was willing herself to push past this. "The Fjerdans. On the boat." She simply replied. The shadow summoner nodded solemly, his hand slipping down to hold her chin. "Who are you?" He asked, his onyx eyes glinting in the slither of light on his face. 'The purgatory inferni.' a voice almost shouted in her head. "I am the almost sankta." She simply replied, hiding the revulsion it gave her. "And who do you belong to?" The darkling asked once more, longing for the answer he wanted her to say, the answer he wanted to hear. 'Myself.' The inferni almost whispered. "I belong to the little palace. I belong to you moi soverenyi." The man infront of her was hesitant, not expecting the words he wanted to hear for so long feels so foreign and otherworldly coming from her lips, as if her sentiment wasn't fully behind it.

The black general's mind churned, a nagging voice whispering in his head that it was his fault. But surely that couldn't be? The two grisha hesitated, words struck in their throats as they didn't know what to. Or rather what to choose to say. 'Has it truly come to this?' Kirigan thought to himself, before turning towards the door. "You must be tired. I'll have one of the servants clean your ro-"

"Where were you?" She interrupted him, her voice as sharp as clean cut glass, her gaze strong and unyielding as she looked at him. "What?" He uttered, confused by her words. "You once said that you would be there for me. That we'd have each other's backs. But when I need you most, where were you?" The general didn't answer. He didn't dare to look her in the eye, or even just her face. Tension in the room felt a cord, so strung out that a measly breath could bring it all down. Anya stared him down from where she stood. He didn't need to answer for the words hung in the air, unspoken.

"Anya you have to understand I- I thought you were gone, I thought I lost you." He replied, almost yelling in desperation. Some part of her couldn't blame him, afterall she disappeared off the face of the earth for saints know how long. The rest of her wanted to fight him, kick in his kneecaps, punch him in the throat, cut him, hurt him, take his life away or shatter his heart inturn as he shattered hers. But she couldn't. Not now, not just yet. "I- I understand. It's fine." The raven-haired whispered, looking away again as her stomache became a turmoil, bile rising at the back of her throat. She had to leave. "I'm going to rest in my room if you need me." The Oryalen woman added before walk with a brisk paces throught the heavy double doors, the shadow summoner's painful silence ringing behind her as she left, rushing to her quarters.

______________*~【☀️】~*_____________

She ran as fast as she could, darting between old, unused servant halls and the gilded hallways of the little palace, out of sight. Her feet carried her as much as they could with the threat of her almost buckling knees. As soon as the young grisha woman's obsidian eyes spotted the dark doors with intricate flames carved into then, lined with golden strings of light, she burst through. Tears blinked in the corner of her eyes, blurring her vision as she ran for the bathroom, knees dropping to the ground as she leaned over the toilet.

Bile and vomit spilled from the back of the throat past her mouth, cold sweat breaking out on her face and clawing at her back as the infernj wretched out the contents of her stomach. Pain radiated throughout her entire body, her head hurting and her nerves frayed. Suddenly soft hands enclosed around her hair, slightly dragging them out of her face before Anya drew her dagger once more out of reflex, holding it against the throat of the unknown person. Her brown eyes shot wide open, her almost black hair falling on the blue kefta with gold embroidered tangles winding over her shoudlers, slipping past the hems and down her arms to her cuff and the buttons that lined the front.

The other grisha kept holding her hair back, the raven-haired too busy to conclude who she was as she shuddered, another wave of nausea hitting her, dropping her hand clutching the dagger as she turned back to the toilet. When it finally stopped, she rested her head on her clenched hand as she steadied her breathing. Without a word, the unknown grisha helped her up, the Oryalen woman's legs shaking underneath her. 'Fix yourself.' She thought. 'What a display.' Guiding her to wash basin, the unknown woman stood a little behind her after handing her a towel that was on the rack.

The young grisha woman splashed her face with the water, so cold that it almost jolted her more awake than she already was. The tips of her fingers delicately edged her scars, the smaller ones of the many healed as the much larger ones were still in the middle of the process. The sight was horrible. Instead, the inferni shook it off, drying her face off with the towel. "Do I- do I need to get a healer?" The young woman asked, a bit unsure. "Maybe. It's fine. Just the long journey that had a long effect on me." Anya lied, her eyes looking at the girl through the mirror. She was around her age, a bit taller even.

But it wasn't her shining dark hair or her Shu heritage that drew in the raven-haired's attention. The second time she looked at her kefta, really looked, her mind swirled at the sight of the embroidery, having seen nothing like it before. "Sorry for the dagger. One can be a bit on edge after travels with the likes of mine...sun summoner." Both their blood ran cold in a way. The Oryalen woman because she finally came face to face with the legend that the darkling had her most easily dropped for. The other grisha woman because she locked eyes with a most intimidating presence who had a reputation like no other. And yet, both felt like they could not blame the other. One knew nothing of the truth and the other knew to much.

The other woman cleared her throat before extending her hand. "Alina Starkov." She said determined. "But you may call me Alina." The young grisha woman showed the smallest hint of a smile as the corners of her mouth turned slightly up before shaking the other's hand. "Nice to meet you Alina." The inferni smiled at her beaming. "You may call me Anya." She looked back at the toilet and the basin, and then back at Alina. "Sorry you had to see that." The young Starkov woman shook her head immediately, trying to interrupt her. "No no it's fine!" She reassured.

A silence filled the air as words hung in the other grisha woman's mouth. "I can't- I can't imagine what your journey home must have been like." A small and quick smile appeared on her face as Anya thought back on it, trying not to get pulled into a deep dive. "Yes it was quite-" a knock at the door interrupted their conversation, a set of servants entering. As they looked upon the two grisha women, the servants muttered in old Ravkan, surprised to already see them together.

"Do you think one's going to hurt the other?"

"If they are then the inferni would have the upper hand. The sun summoner hasn't trained enough yet."

The raven-haired's eyebrow shot up at their words, unpleasantness filling her. "I'd be very careful with what you say next. I assume you want to keep your jobs yes? Then how about you stop gossiping and shut the fuck up." She snapped, startling the servants, obviously new in service. As they laid down whatever it was they were holding, the Oryalen woman turned to the young Starkov woman , who stood awkwardly behind her with a small smile on her face. "I think it's best if I go." She chirped. "I do need to cram in some more training." She laughed, hinting at the servants' words. The young grisha woman's face softened for a minute, not because she was sad that she was leaving but because she knew the all too eager look in her eyes. As if a sparkly mist of his lies clouded them. "Good luck. Botkin is a hard one for the right reasons. And so is Baghra."

As soon as the other grisha woman had left, the two servants pulled the inferni along, from one side to the other as they dotted over her in a not so nice manner, grimacing as they looked at her face and held their tongues. Hastily, they snapped the button of Anya's kefta open, trying to pull it off her. Anxiety shot through her body when the comfort of her reclaimed garment was taken from her, as if they pulled of her second skin. The raven-haired wanted to scream and shout at them, that it belonged to her and her only. That this should be her choice. But she quickly remembered one of things she realized in Fjerda's cells. In the little palace, there is no such thing as choice. Only the illusion of one.

So she swallowed her words, swallowed her screams and protests until they were nothing more but a whisper in the back of her head. Rolls of measurement tape were pulled out, pricks and pins and needles attaching themselves to laps of fabric. The young grisha woman felt something stir in her as she saw the familiar stark blue color of the second army etherealki kefta. Even with her gaze resting upon it, it just felt wrong. As if this wasn't her but someone else, his version of her. The inferni from another time, one she doesn't recognize herself from, she realized as she look in a mirror further away in the room.

After what felt like hours, the two servants packed up their goods and trotted out of the room, leaving Anya behind them as they closed the door. With the click of the lock falling into place, the raven-haired sank into a chair, her face and hair in her hands as she shuddered. And after what felt like centuries upon centuries, tears slipped between her fingers. This wasn't home anymore. Home was an illusion. Home was a lie, created to lull her into compliancy.

The Oryalen woman looked at her hands, seeing the lines of scars and callouses run them up and down. As she laid down on her bed, she remembered Inej's tight grasp as she held them, Jesper's jokes as he tried to bring life into a conversation or Kaz's stern eyes following and assessing Anya's every move. "I wish you were here." she whispered, exhaustion taking over her entire body as if she hadn't slept in weeks, squeezing her eyes shut. The young grisha woman pulled the blanket over her, not used to its softness anymore before snuggling under it as she fell asleep.

______________*~【☀️】~*_____________

The air was gone. Waves upon waves pushed down on her chest as she sunk deeper and deeper in the sea. The inferni felt the water fill her lungs, her eyes shot wide with fear. Darkness roved at her feet, everything feeling like it was burning up as she desperately tried to claw her way back up. It was pulling her down and as the air was crushed out of her, a single voice echoed all around her.

"Anya."

"Anya."

"Anya."

______________*~【☀️】~*_____________

Anya shot up from the bed, brow wet with sweat as she hastily looked around her, becoming aware again of her surroundings. "So much for some sleep." She muttered angrily as she rubbed her face and looked out the window. It wasn't dark yet but dusk was falling quickly, the sun starting it's descend behind the tree tops that separated the little palace from the grand palace.

A knock resonated at her door, pulling her attention away as she opened it. Red copper hair and stark eyes filled her view and for a split second the raven-haired thought Ana was standing in front of her before seeing the cream color kefta. "Geny-" She hadn't even finished her sentence before the tailor enveloped her hands in her. The Oryalen woman looked at her for a minute, scared and confused by her burst of emotion but saw the look in her eyes. "My god darling what did they do to you?" She uttered before walking into the room, a younger man in a dark red kefta with grey stitching the young grisha woman hadn't noticed before. 'He's skittish.' She noticed as he cast his look downward, clearly nervous.

"Oh the usual you know. Torture." The inferni chuckled darkly as she sat down, slightly regretting the joked as she saw the look in the Saffin woman's eyes. She wanted to tell her so many things, ask her a thousand questions but she knew who the other woman was loyal to, even if she couldn't help it herself. Maybe one day, as bad as it might be, Genya might see the truth. Anya turned to the third person in the room, assessing him slightly. "So who's this?" He stepped forward, deftly looking her in the eye even though he squirmed under her vision. "Maxim." he said. "I'm a healer."

The raven-haired knew why he was sent and by who, seeing as the red head was here as well. "Go on then." She said bitterly. "Get it over with." Maxim looked at her as if she was going to bite his hand off before he swallowed, stepping closer as his hands glided just above her skin. The Oryalen woman felt some of the smaller parts move, slowly but surely stitching themselves together and making her feel sick to her stomache. Closing her eyes, she tried to zone out despite feeling the lingering presence of the young man's hands, his face no doubt twisted as he tried to heal anything above the smaller scars. But then again, there were many, and there were big ones, so how good he was didn't matter if the wounds were inflicted to long ago.

After a while, he stepped back before he spoke, disappointment ripe in his voice. "I'm sorry. That's all I could do." The young grisha woman opened her eyes, the left one that still had the scar over it seeing clearer then before. Some of the smaller scars and cuts had ebbed away, others simply healed but it did not make a lot of difference to the damage. Clearing her throat, Genya and the inferni turned to the healer. "Thank you. You may leave now." Maxim nodded before retreating out of the door.

The tailor looked at the other woman as she spoke. "You could come downstairs to eat. Word got out and a lot of the grisha are losing their minds, rightfully so. And I'm sure there are some people who missed yo-" Anya laughed cynically she interrupted her. "Oh come now Genya we both know that's a lie." She started. "I was Kirigan precious priced showpiece and a lot of them hated me for it, we both know that much. So please, spare me the pleasantries." The copper haired woman bit her lip, nodding at her.

A silence passed and the raven-haired broke it once more. "So. How's David?" The tailor looked at her in slight shock, faking her confusion. "W- what do you mean?" She stuttered. The Oryalen woman quirked her eyebrow at her words, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh please, I'm not an idiot." The Saffin woman finally smiled, seemingly happy. "Things are..things are good." She breathed with a huff of air as she softly laughed. "Should I have someone bring some food up?" She added, clearly wanting to move on from the subject. "No it's fine. I'm not really hungry." The young grisha woman answered before Genya grasped one of her hands again and left, closing the door behind her.

The inferni took a deep breath, her lungs feeling normal again after the dream. Sitting down at her desk, she pulled open one of the drawers, Kesh's pouche with the scales still in there. Closing it again, Anya stood up, dressing herself in some fresh new clothes as she laid Inej's down on a seat, and headed for the door. Evening had fallen, the sun was gone and the darkness that she knew all too well felt like him.

But the moon shone bright, lighting up the dark night sky, rays shining through the windows as she deftly ran down the stairs. The raven-haired slid from room to room, checking if someone was inside before slipping into the Oprichniki dressing rooms. It was quite, almost too quite but she quickly opened the stalls that contained their uniforms, tucking one under her arms as she walked out. After a few minutes had passed, the Oryalen woman looked left and right before opening a door to the outside. With the moon as her witness, she hid the uniform, tucking it away exactly where she told Kaz she would.

Walking amongst the shadows, the young grisha woman walked back inside the palace, mind thinking back to the scales. Before she knew it, her feet had carried her away to the library on muscle memory and her hands pushed the doors open. Rows after rows of books were revealed, a familiar sense and ache in her chest. The inferni knew her way in the hallowed halls but knew the library like the back of her hand. Several minutes of walking later, she darted inside an aisle, hands skimming the dozens stacks of books inside before finishing one out. Odinakovost, etovost, amplifier, it was all here. Anya's fingers quickly skimmed the pages, racing through them before landing on the part of amplifier. Suddenly, she shuddered, her skin crawling as she felt a presence looming closer before it spoke to her. "Drakon Sankt'ya."

°°°°°°°°°°°°
SO. IT'S BEEN A WHILE.
Glad to have finally updated
even though it is
almost 2 am and I have
a class tomorrow at 8:30.

Anyways, I hope you all
enjoyed this chapter!
The last thousand words
or so were a bit harder
to write so they might not
be as good but oh well.
I have one thing to say
and one thing only.

Also
My Tears Richocet and
All Too Well being
Anya and the darkling
me thinks.

ANYWAY ENJOY
SOME MORE MEMES!