06||THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER RETURNS

Darkness enveloped Anya as she laid in her bed. It wasn't the calm sort, the kind that hugged you when you'd go to bed tiredly only to fall asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow. No, it was the uneasy kind, the kind that kept her awake as she stared at the ceiling, dread clawing at her spine. The raven-haired tossed and turned before but had momentarily given up on the chance of a good night sleep. The wind was howling as rain clattered with the tapping of tree branches against the small windows. The weather was ominous and if she had learned anything from the story of her birth, was that this weather was a foreboding omen.

Her feet hit the cold floor, hair framing her face as she sighed. "God damnit." She cursed silently at the insomnia. The Oryalen woman opened her door before walking to the bathroom, grabbing a slightly chipped cup, filling it with water at the sink before sitting back down on a couch."Can't sleep as well?" The young grisha woman noted as she sensed the presence behind her.

"How did you know I was there?" Inej wondered curiously, sitting down next to her. "When you have my occupation you tend to learn a thing or two about hiding. Not necessarily in shadows." The inferni quickly added. The wraith laughed at her quip, almost making the corners of other woman's lips turn up. "Was that an almost smile?" The Ghafa woman joked, slightly poking Anya in the ribs. "Shut up. You know nothing." She replies, a slight slap landing on the Ghafa woman's hand as she tried not to laugh.

As the laughter fizzled out, the raven-haired looked down to the floor before chucking the remaining glass of water with a downcast glare on her face. "I had the same look the first time I walked past the menagerie after Kaz got me out." The dagger expert said, breaking the silence. "I know the plan, he's told me but I can't..." the Oryalen woman voice almost wavered as she spoke before she reigned it in. "I don't know what I'm gonna do once I'm actually there." The inferni combbed through her hair with her hands as she leaned back in her chair, still not fully used to how short it felt between her fingers.

Inej regarded her, the woman of legend, sitting there next to her. It was one thing hearing and reading the stories of the mystical grishas of old but to actually have one sitting next to her, at least that's what she thought the other woman deserved, was something else all together. Anya was afraid. And not just by going back to the little palace. The thought that she would see him again after such a long time, see all of them, thinking that she might get swept up in the moment, that the general would charm the raven-haired into coming back to him, the possibility of it all, absolutely terrified her.

The wraith deftly grabbed her hand in hers, clenching her jaw as concern was written across her face. "Anya. Look at me. If I could face the menagerie, then you can face this. I just know you can. And we'll be there for you." The Oryalen smiled at the thought. "We?" She laughed. The Ghafa woman dropped her hand, arching an eyebrow as she smirked. "Well Jesper is definitely on board but..." she started, eyes looking at the door of Kaz's room. "I know." The inferni replied. "It's something that we have in common." She added, eyes wandering to the door of the young barrel boss, a forlorn look of understanding in them. "It'll take time for him to trust me." The dagger expert stood up, dusting herself off before turning to her companion. "It's best if we go to sleep. You've got a big day ahead."

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The dim light of the rising sun slipped through the branches of the trees, slowly but surely illuminating the room. Anya's heart beat rapidly in her chest as she looked in the mirror, face as cold as stone. Her hands gripped the rim of the bassin, nails almost chipping away at the paint as she steadied her breathing. "One last time." She whispered to herself. One. Last. Time.

The raven-haired cracked her knuckles before putting on her kefta, shrugging it on as some of the light bounced off its dark material. The winter fete was dawning on them in but a few days and if she wanted her companions to have a proper chance, today was the day for her to strike. The Oryalen woman walked for the door, not before a voice stopped her right in her track. "Anya."

The young grisha woman turned around, the half-light of the room framing his cheekbones as he stepped inside. "What is it that you want Brekker?" The inferni snapped slightly, crossing her arms as she looked him up and down with a slightly annoyed look. "Before you go, I'd appreciate it if you could acquire a guard uniform for me." Kaz stated simply. Anya looked at him, eyes narrowing. The young barrel boss found himself at slight unease by being under her petrifying gaze, raising his eyebrow to mask his thoughts, making it seem like it was directed at her own facial expression.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" The raven-haired replied skeptically, a slight hint of anger detectable in her voice. "After we investigated the room of Arkan's grisha contact, you said you wanted a chance at revenge. But looking at your behavior, it makes me question whether you still want that." Dirtyhands questioned. The Oryalen woman turned her head as she clenched her jaw, biting the inside of her cheek. "I do- I- I don't know." She stuttered.

The bastard of the barrel sat down in one of the chair, gloved hands folding over the crows head of his cane. "I think you, like me, want to achieve something but not right away. Rather in the long haul. A common goal that we share." The young grisha woman sat down across of him, leaning slightly over as her arms rested on her knees. "And what would that be?" He directed the piercing gaze of his icy eyes at her as they locked, a single word leaving his slightly hoarse throat. "Justice."

The inferni nodded solemly at him. "Justice is certainly what I seek. But that and so much more comes to it." She replied. Kaz reclined in his seat, closing his eyes as he pondered over his next words. "I have a plan. I know what I want to achieve to get justice, what drives me. So you just have to ask yourself, what drives you?" He wondered, his cane softly tapping against his shoe. It was silent and Anya weighed the heavy feeling inside her chest, debating whether or not to say something or leave his words to die in silence.

"My battalion was sent out north." The raven-haired started, the young barrel boss' head perking up from the sudden words that came from her mouth."We were...riding through a valley when they ambushed us. The lucky few that survived were set on a ship headed for Fjerda." The Oryalen woman had folded her legs on the couch next to her as she stared out of the window, not even being able to look at him.

Dirtyhands stared at her intently, noticing the depth and shallowness of some of her scars, scanning her face as he did so. Never did he expect her to say anything, let alone that she would start talking about her trauma. He knew he wouldn't. At least not any time soon. "I've always found the Fjerda vs Ravka conflict quite ridiculous if I might say so." The bastard of the barrel replied, making the young grisha woman close her eyes as a small sing song chuckle left her lips. But as quickly as her laugh came, it disappeared.

The inferni took a deep breath before she spoke once more. "It's no secret that Fjerdans hate us. They didn't give us any food and tortured us for days. One by one I saw the light leave my friends' eyes. And then they..." Anya's hand gestured to the scars littering her face. Kaz looked away as he clenched his jaw, recollecting the moment he and the raven-haired shared on the ferry, where she mentioned what had happened.

The raven-haired squeezed her eyes shut so hard, her voice wavered the slightest bit because if it. "I prayed to the saints that I was taught to believe in to save us, to save me. I prayed for other grisha to help us. But they never came. They'd chose to let their so called savior, their almost sankta, die." She gritted her teeth, hissing out her next words. "In the back of their minds, they never let go of the idea of a sun summoner. I knew that would never trult see me as what they sad I was. No one came for me that day, or any day since. So I had no choice but to save myself."

A dark chuckle escaped the Oryalen woman's lips, eyes watery, rimming with tears thar almost flowed down as she tried to reign them back in, her voice croaking from the effort. "I somehow made it out, scorching the ice court in my wake and stole a ship. There were only three of us left, from the entire battalion. But the ship capsized and..." It was as if breathing had become harder, the crushing weight of the waves seemingly pushing down on her chest once more. "They didn't make it. Hell, I almost didn't." The inferni laughed cynically, her fists bunching up her kefta.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." The young barrel boss stated simply, breaking the silence. Anya frowned slightly, not expecting anyone to utter those words, let alone the present company of the one they called Dirtyhands. "No. It's fine." The raven-haired replied, calmy steadying her breathing. "I was the only one to make it out alive. No one should ever have to go through that. That's what drives me Kaz. Unlike myself, I want future grisha to have a choice. I want them to be able to choose their own destiny and not have someone else write it for them."

The bastard of the barrel looked at her, seeing something that could maybe be akin to himself but he wasn't just so sure yet. "I'm sorry for dumping all of that on you." He frowned at her words, although he would never admit that he did. The Oryalen woman stood up briskly, making the young barrel boss jerk his head up. "Where are you going?" Her face was once more cold as stone when she looked at him. "Into the lion's den."

She turned to go as Kaz bit his tongue. Hand on the doorknob, the inferni took a deep breath, the dry air of the room filling her lungs, as if she secretly waited to hear him say one more word before turning it. "Anya." He said, making her halt in her steps once more.  "We have a saying that passes as good luck among the dregs." The young barrel boss started. "What is it?" She asked curiously. "Knock 'em dead?" If it had been anyone else, Dirtyhands would've knocked them dead by now. But he spotted the upturned corners of her lips, sensed the teasing quip of her voice and saw the light in her obsidian eyes shine. 'Fine.' He thought to himself. 'You can have this one.'

"No mourners. No funerals." Anya hummed at his words, putting on her in-deep-thought face, scrunching up her nose slightly as if she was mulling them over in her head, contemplating their meaning. "No mourners." She eventually uttered. "No funerals." The bastard of the barrel replied, nodding his hat at her as if he was sending her off.

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He had faked his death more then he could count, lived many lives, served many kings and carried a lot of names. Staski, Kiril, Leonid, Anton, Eryk and now Kirigan. Nobody knew his first name. Nor did he want them to. He had yet again established himself as leader of the second army, earning himself the title 'Black General'. And he had spent all that time waiting.

The dream that he had longed for for centuries was within his grasp. The sun saint wasn't just some legendary folklore tale anymore. She was real, her name was Alina Starkov and here she was, living and breathing in the little palace. His mind was racing, old morals coming back for one last fight. The general sat behind his desk, a hand keeping his head propped up as his dark eyes scanned a document but his mind was led astray.

Absent mindedly, the moments he had shared with the young Starkov woman came to him, smiling fondly at the thought. The shadow summoner clenched his jaw as he directed his gaze back to document about the winter fete but all he could seem to think about was the vision he had in mind for Ravka, for all grisha, to be set in motion. It was then that his mind wandered once more, only not to his precious new grisha. Not to the winter fete. Not to the dozens of diplomats that would attend. Not even about what he would do should he succeed.

The darkling thought of her, only her as his eyes landed on a picture, and suddenly his mind was all consumed by it. Something inside him stood on the brink of collapse. The almost sankta, Anya, was a true prodigy, his mentee, his friend and confidante. Was, the word felt so bitter and cruel in his mouth, he couldn't help but feel some semblance of regret. The black general felt a tightness in his chest when he thought about the last time he saw the raven-haired.

"I want you to lead your battalion to the front line."

"Why me?"

"Because I know I can trust you."

When the Oryalen woman eventually left, she told him that it would be okay. She would be back before he'd know, so she could fulfill her duties. "Don't get to many worry wrinkles on your forehead! You might look like you're aging!" She joked. But Kirigan had lost count of the days that went by, weeks, maybe months even, without having heard a single word from her. Except for the devastating news that none would return. There were no survivors. Those that did were taken away to a place where a more terrible fate then immediate death awaited them. No one was left to tell the tale.

Something inside the general hoped that the inferni had miraculously survived, that she would return to him. But he knew that that would never happen. He didn't care about how much it hurt it that she was gone and chalked it up to letting go of someone, just another name on the long list of those who died throughout his life, another pawn that would be taken off the board. Was she just a pawn to him? He shook his head at the thought, thinking back when he spinned this in his web of lies to his advantage.

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Ravka and its citizens were in mourning for Anya's death. At least, those that saw the young grisha woman as their savior did. And even fewer that saw the raven-haired as their friend. The others mourned over the loss of someone else. A brother, a sister. A daughter, a son. A mother, a father. The country was outraged. And there the shadow summoner was, his face frigid and torn apart by grief as he stood in front of an enormous sea of faces, thundering clouds roaring at the horizon. That was what it would look like to anyone who was watching from the outside.

Within, the darkling was absolutely demolished but he slowly built himself back up piece by piece, this moment being his stepping stone. The first of many that would lead to uniting the war torn country in his image. "Dear citizens, my fellow grisha. Ravka has know many hardships throughout its history and they have strengthened us. But what happened wasn't just a hardship, it was a monstrosity. An act of war against us in these volatile times." Agreeing grunts came from the crowd, some even shouting that they needed to do something.

"They thought that they could strike us at our heart because our country has been divided in two. That they could sew doubt into out minds and manipulate us! I say no more! We Ravkans have suffered at the hands of the Fjerdans for far too long!" A lump formed in his throat, and for a second the black general doubted the words that he was about to utter, before pushing them back down. It's what he needed to do. HAD to do.

"It's what the almost sankta would have wanted! Your sons and daughters! Your family! Those that were lost, they would not want their deaths be in vain, just so we could lounge around and do nothing! Say nothing!" Sternly Kirigan look over the crowd of faces. They were tired, some wanting the war to stop. Others only continued to spur it on. The general clenched his jaw once more before continuing. "If we want what is rightfully ours, revenge, then we should take up our arms and strike back against the northern threat of Fjerda now! Or we will pay the price later on in even more blood then we already have."

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The shadow summoner pinched the bridge of his nose as he put the paper down with discontent, almost crumpling it up when a headache of annoyance washed over him. He felt his mind slipping from what was important. 'Focus.' He told himself as he took a deep breath. 'The only thing that's important right now is Alina.' The darkling smiled. The young Starkov woman reminded him of Anya in a way. She was strong, grew in her confidence and she showed true promise.

He remembered their ride to the little palace, how she grumbled about sitting on a horse for so long. He remembered how they made a trip to the well, over grown with vines. "I'll be the brand new heretic..." The black general's mind wandered once more, to the moment late at night when he was going over battle plans before the sun summoner came to his chambers. "You are not alone." Her words seemed so loud, echoing through his head. Kirigan settled back in his chair, a soft lingering feeling of guilt pooling at the bottom of his stomache. She didn't know his name, she didn't know the truth. She didn't know who he truly was.

The general put the paper of the fete away, taking a deep and solemn breath as he moved on to a folder that had been delivered to him with haste. 'Intelligence rapport. Status: highly classified.' the front of the folder read in bold block letters. Curious, the shadow summoner flipped it open, scanning several of the documents carefully. 'In regard to previous statements en in light of recent findings, Ravkan spy officers have reported back, having discovered that-'

The doors to his chambers burst open, disrupting he train of thought as he looked up. In front of him stood Fedyor huffing as he came to a halt, slightly out of breath. "Get on with it." Kirigan snapped, his eyes still transfixed on his paper work. "General, you have to come and see this." His head snapped up at his concerned words, trying to understand the other grisha's facial expression. "There's something going on at the gates."

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Trampling hoves pounded on the ground as he horse galloped at full speed, Anya sitting on top of him. She thought of the last time she was at the little palace, the once sweet memory now bitter, riddled with anger and hurt. The raven-haired's mind wandered to the general, her jaw clenching. She was enraged, not just with him but at herself for ever believe his hollow, honey dripped lies. Did she hate him? Maybe she did. Or maybe she never fully could. In all truth she didn't know He resilience wavered at the thought, afraid of the answer.

The Oryalen woman didn't want to be brought back on the board as his chess piece, only for him to the discard her one more. He did it once before so what would stop him from doing it again? The young grisha woman felt sick to her stomach, sick that she couldn't just let go of him, move on. But she knew deep inside that she would never fully be able to.

Anya shook her head as Os Alta, and the little palace, were dawning in her line of sight. Slowing down, the horse eventually read to a halt not to far from the gates, its rider stepping off. "Good girl." She sat as she patted the nose softly before swiftly letting her go. Turing around, the raven-haired eyed to opulent gates, its watchposts embedded on top of towers like a crows nest of a ship. One foot after the other, step by step, the Oryalen woman walked closer as wind viciously howled all around her. In a split second, she could feel numerous pairs of eyes warily staring at her.

A lone Oprichniki guard stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of his Durast-forged sword. "Halt! Identify yourself!" he shouted demandingly. Calmy and surely, the young grisha woman held her hands up but kept walking forward despite the protests of the man. "I said halt!" he yelled once more. His voice wavered as he looked at her, not recognizing her with the half-veil covering her face. Not that many would. "What? You won't open the gate, even for me?" the inferni asked mockingly.

The guard sword sang as he pulled it from its sheath, pointing it at her before charging. Anya eyed him and in the mere second that she did, noticed a slight limp in his right leg. Deftly ducking under the sword, she stuck out her foot. The man almost splayed on the ground before she grabbed ahold of his wrist, jamming her elbow into his and then his shoulder, crippling him to the ground as he dropped his sword and fell down with a howl of pain.

The present oprichniki guards had gathered at the gates, before filing out around her, swords at ready. bowing down, the raven-haired grabbed ahold of the hilt from the fallen sword, eyes defiantly staring back at the group ahead. 'Come and get me.' she thought to herself. "Drop your weapon! We have you surrounded." A woman yelled angrily. The Oryalen woman pulled back her hood, her hair gracing her shoudlers as she took off the half veil. "I might be outnumbered.." she shouted, before twirling around her sword in her hand, at ready in front of her in one swift moment. "...but you are vastly outmatched."

They came storming at her with a barrage of their weapon, some even charging ahead as they raised their blade. Ducking under one of them,  the young grisha woman rammed her shoulder underneath his armpit and in the ribs, before using their moment to fling them over her shoulder. The next one swung his sword aggressively, ready to clobber her head in if it weren't for their blade getting parried and ending up deeply embedded into a nearby tree. "Nice try though." The inferni laughed.

Guard after guard after guard, they all ended up on this floor in a puddle of broken bones and bruised pride. Picking up a limited wounded guard by the shoulder, Anya pressed on it harshly. "I want you to open the gates." She simply stated. "W-why?" The young man asked as he shook in his booth. "I want to speak to general Kirigan. Tell him the almost Sankta is back." She hissed the last bit into his ear, the giard stumbling upright, fumbling with the keys to the gates before finally opening them.

______________*~【☀️】~*_____________

The ornate building that was the little palace was now closer then ever, it's lush front gardens disappearing behind Anya's back. Standing in the open hall that split the building almost in two, the raven-haired felt unease broiling in her stomach. 'There's no turning back now.' The voice inside her head whispered. Once inside, the golden elements were a sight for sore eyes, the Oryalen woman's hand gliding over the walls as a shocked group of servants and grisha buzzed all around her.

"Saints! Is that really her?"

"God she looks absolutely foul!"

"Surely this can't be her? She's dead."

"If she's back then what about Alina?"

One of the servants uneasily opened the door for her in one swift motion, a grand and ornate room presenting itself to her eyes. "Wait here." She said. Jesper was right, they were all blow off their sockets. 'Well anyone would I suppose, if it seems like someone returns from the dead.' The young grisha woman thought to herself, uneasily pacing through the room. She wrung her hands together, her chest heaving up and down as her breathing quickened. Dread pooled at the bottom of her stomach, making her feel sickly as it clawied at her spine, a chill making the hairs on her neck and arms stand up.

How was she going to explain everything? How did they even find them? Was it just a coincidence? The First Army soldiers in her batalion, the Second Army grisha, Zhanna, Ilya, everyone, how was she going to explain that she let them all down? The inferni halted in her steps, taking a deep breath as she remembered Kaz' sterness, Jesper's jokes and Inej's kind words. 'You can face this. And we'll be there for you.'

The doors swung open and there he stood, halted in his steps as other people filled in. Kirigan. He looked at her, eyes almost rimming with tears and, as much as she hated it, it felt like a shot through her heart. "Gener-" Before Anya could even get a word in between, he ran to her, wrapping his arms around her. The raven-haired's eyes were wide, the feeling of unease creeping up on her, flings of memories from the drüskelle ship shooting past her eyes in flashes, standing there as if she was almost frozen. 'Is this what Kaz feels?' She thought as she remembers the subtle times he pulled back from everyone, keeping his distance. And yet at the same time, the person she used to be wanted to hug him back more then anything.

The Oryalen woman squeezed them shut as she wrapped her arms around the shadow summoner who cradled the back of her head as he rested his chin on it, as if he was afraid that she would dissipate into thin air. The young grisha woman hated it. She hated the way it felt, she hated having to be here. She hated having to hug him so close and wanted nothing more then to leave this place but what she hated the most was how much he felt like faded memories that she desperately cling to while she should let it all go. The inferni hated how much he reminded her that he once felt like home. His voice barreled through the room, words heavy as he spoke "Welcome home."

°°°°°°°°°°°°
I know it took a
long while but I hope
that the wait was worth it!
Onto our usual
meme programming.

And seeing as you all
had to wait for so long
I have a surprise!

https://youtu.be/sMLIrZcqWZU

FINALLY.
BUT that's not all!

https://youtu.be/KMIg5AdxgBE

Feast your eyes on
this 9 minute (YES)
compilation of edits
that I made!
You can really see the
development yikes lol.
And yet that is not all!
Still not! Wow I really
am spoiling you guys!

https://youtu.be/i7AeEv1BIB4

I finally made a character
video for Anya! Enjoy
all the content!
And if you have an
memea that you made
yourself about the book,
you can always send them
to my tumblr number-0-iz!
Have an awesome day!