𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 — the dark is the same wherever i am

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 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 came for them once more, it had been entirely out of the blue. There had been no dots to connect, no grande feast like Nikolai's birthday acting as a prelude... It had all happened so quickly, that Aleksa hadn't even been able to seize her hold on the shadows until Nikolai had been plucked and carried away.

 A shadowed blur cut across her vision, and beside her, Alina stumbled back. Nikolai was gone, just like that. They couldn't help but stare at the empty ground before them, no brilliant and witty prince to try and charm his way into their good graces...

 Then, Alina screamed.

 Aleksa's head twisted in time as claws closed over her shoulders, lifting her feet from the floor. Another grappled for Aleksa, yet the moment her veins pulsed black and crawled the slope of her neck, they held back. They chittered with one another, wondering why they couldn't just step forth, why they felt the compelling desire to disobey their master.

 The nichevo'ya would always hold some form of loyalty to Aleksa, no matter whose palms they fell from. Aleksa spilled darkness from her hands, watching as the nichevo'ya practically danced within it, neither scared enough to run, nor loyal enough to attack.

 It was enough of a distraction for Alina to slip and fall right into Mal's awaiting arms.

 Alina twisted in his hold and her arms moved in a perfectly trained arc; a burst of blinding sunlight swept through the darkness, slicing nichevo'ya into pieces. They wavered and soon enough, exploded into nothing.

 She was bleeding, Aleksa could see that much... but they didn't have the time to call for a half-trained healer. Even amidst her pain, glowing fingers clutching at the punctures in her shoulders, Alina bellowed, "Get the others out!" She cried to Tamar, "Get them away from here!"

 "We can't leave you—"

 "I won't lose them too!"

 Aleksa pushed the Heartrender's shoulders, "I'll stay with them, take the others and get the hell out of here!" Through taut lips, a shrill whistle escaped her; she might come to need Cas's abilities, but she wanted the silly old thing to be safe, "Cas, with Tamar!"

 There was a distant symphony of caws, reluctant, rather peeved... but all the same, Cas didn't come into view.

 Alina continued to lash out with the cut, arcs of sunlight soaring through the sky in blinding discs and yet so few collided. The nichevo'ya were swift, capable of fizzling into the shadows before they were struck by even a glimmer of light.

 Aleksa reached out, eyes closed even amidst the chaos surrounding her. If there was one thing she could be certain of... it was that she was far safer with the nichevo'ya than the others. Mal kept his gun high as Aleksa spilled tendrils of ink, watching as they slithered like vipers towards the beats encircling them. Two. Two fell within her net, entirely ensnared and utterly loyal. They snapped their heads up immediately, wings beating, jaws snapping and claws catching their former brethren.

 Aleksander came from above and the beasts he'd conjured moved around him like a living cloak. Their wings tore through the air, sending harsh winds towards the three still upon the terrace, their claws jutted out, eager to spill blood... But there was no Nikolai.

 Each bullet Mal shot was swallowed by the wave of absolute darkness; the nichevo'ya swallowed each piece of metal, simply disappearing around them, only to reform seconds later.

 Aleksa could feel Merzost sapping at her skin and bones, yet still her own little monsters snapped their jaws. They beat through the crowd of their kin with a type of vigour Aleksander hadn't seen before.

 "Saints," Mal swore, firing another futile bullet, "How did he find us?"

 The answer came all too swiftly. There, suspended in the air was a body draped in red, like a rose petal suspended in the wind. The nichevo'ya had sunk their claws, drawing blood like trickling wine; it was Sergei, one of their Grisha. His face had become chalky, his eyes blown wide as terror seeped within... he seemed to be mumbling something, a prayer perhaps.

 The shadows parted way, and Aleksander's pale and gaunt face could be seen as clear as daylight, "Shall I spare him?"

 Aleksa grimaced as Alina tried to bargain, to plead for poor Sergei's life... even if the Grisha had sold them out. But that pale and sweat-encased skin showed only one sign; death. It didn't matter if the monsters dropped their hold, he'd die all the same. Aleksander knew that, and he planned to make it far more gruesome than it ever needed to be, because he wasn't unlike the monsters he commanded.

 "He betrayed me first, Alina." Aleksander sneered, "He remained in Os Alta when he should have come to my side. He sat on your council, plotted against me. He told me everything."

 Well, thank the saints they hadn't spilled a damned word of the firebird.

 "So," Aleksander continued, a hand waving through the air. His pale fingers looked as though they'd shed their skin, only his glistening bones left behind for Merzost to feast upon... He looked sick, hell if they bid their time for another few months, Aleksa was certain Merzost itself would kill him, "The decision is mine. And I'm afraid that I choose justice."

 Aleksa kept a steady eye on Sergei, even as the nichevo'ya holding him tore his limbs from his body. One swift move took his head clean from his neck, leaving only the barest glimpse of shock on his features. It toppled through the sky, disappearing through the clouds as droplets of blood trailed after it, like a pack of loyal dogs.

 It was at moments like these that Aleksa was reminded who she was, and where she called home. She was still a Barrel thug, a Dreg and a Crow. Death was an apt response for betrayal, and while she truly couldn't have cared less about Sergei's treachery against Aleksander... He'd gotten his punishment for revealing their plans.

 She could hear Alina and Mal stewing in their shock, in their absolute horror... But all Aleksa could do was what she'd always done. She fought even amidst death and betrayal. Her loyal beasts still surged and clawed their way closer and closer...

 But Aleksander seemed to grin as he watched her two lonely monsters tear through his crowd, "What a delightful show, dear sister —" He truly never gave up on using that title, "But just two? Come now, I believe I taught you better than this."

 He was goading her... and if she'd still been the girl who looked to him for answers, the girl who sought affection and comfort and praise from him... maybe she'd have tightened her stance and allowed more monsters to flood the skies. But she wasn't that girl, not anymore.

 She lifted her chin, obsidian veins writhing beneath her flesh, "Just two... and yet they've torn through a dozen. No wonder I learned so much more when I left your side."

 His facade cracked. Calmness shattered like ice and the tidal wave of rage began to flood, "Do you think your soldiers will fare better this time? Do you think the pirate prince will survive?"

 The mention of Nikolai was enough for Aleksa to falter. She might have pushed his affections aside, turned away from his glorious proposals of making her the queen of bloody Ravka... but he was still Nikolai, still someone Aleksa couldn't deny she might have loved if a certain Crow wasn't the only face she could picture.

 "What did you do to him?"

 "I have regretted many of the things I've had to do in this war," said Aleksander, a slight glint in those quartz-coloured eyes. "This is not one of them."

 One of his shadow soldiers swept from the sky in a blur... Aleksa swallowed as she watched Nikolai thrash in its hold. Her fingers jolted, no whispers, no commands, just a thought had her two monsters hurtling towards him. She might have been able to get to the Darkling, but Nikolai... she'd never forgive herself.

 Aleksander rose a hand, and it seemed that with the movement came bile in Aleksa's throat. Just a little longer... her monsters were so close —

 But when Aleksander gave his order... Nikolai remained in one piece. His limbs were stuck in place and the nichevo'ya that held him, merely tossed him onto the terrace. His body hit the stone with a vile thud, his bones cracking, his lips parting in a sorrowful groan.

 Aleksa dropped by his side, and Alina wasn't all too far behind.

 "Nik?" Aleksa sighed, smoothing away his golden, sweat-slicked hair. Even with blood trailing from his lips, and skin as pale as ice-cold snow... he still looked like their charming prince.

 His coat had been shredded, pale blue and glistening gold threads snapped and frayed where the nichevo'ya had sunk its claws. He tried to push himself to his elbows, they shook and rattled, and soon he was flat on the ground once more.

 He glanced up, and Aleksa was rather thrilled to find that familiar twinkle in his hazel eyes, "This was unexpected..." He groaned, and yet all the same he managed a sly little wink, "Glad to know you'd mourn me, my beautiful Aleksa."

 "I'll toss you off this terrace."

 "Ah, but your face will be the last I see. I'd rest in... begrudging peace."

 "You're an idiot."

 He made to retort, perhaps to utter something silly and along the lines of 'your idiot' even if he had proposed to poor Alina. The words never came, for his eyes peered over Aleksa's shoulders and her own soon followed.

 Two blots of shadows slipped from Aleksander's palms. Like ink from a pot, they trailed down and down until they slipped upon the terrace. Aleksa's nichevo'ya scrambled away, and Aleksa could feel the haunting whispers of Aleksander's summoning.

 There was something wrong with this bout of shadows. No amount of calling to them seemed to do a thing... and soon enough they slithered right into Nikolai's mouth. His eyes blew wide, his breath hitching in surprise... but all that did was force the shadows further into his lungs.

 Aleksa could feel them writhing within him, flooding through his veins, echoing as they trailed over his bones like a knife to the neck... "Oh, saints." She breathed. He was — he was going to turn into something not entirely dissimilar to the Volcra, "Nikolai..."

 He choked, "I don't like the pessimistic sound of your voice."

 Aleksa dipped her gaze. Her hold on her own nichevo'ya shattered, the tether between them snapping like a fragile little thing. They vanished, and the hoard following the Darkling chittered in victory.

 Nikolai coughed, never quite breaking his gaze from Aleksa. It was strange for him, he could feel the tightening of his chest, the feeling of something squirming within his body... and yet seeing the care in the Shadow Summoner's eyes almost made it worth it. Almost.

 His hands flew to his chest, tearing open the pitiful remains of his shirt. They all looked down, watching as obsidian began to bleed over his skin. It crawled over the expanse of his chest like vines, like swirling marble.

 It wasn't Alina that Nikolai looked to, it was Aleksa, "Aleksa?" He so scarcely used her true name, swearing her identity to secrecy. But the small ounce of a little boy within him came out, he reared his head with wide eyes and golden hair.

 Aleksa couldn't do a thing. Even as she seized his hand, intertwining their restless fingers... she couldn't get a hold of whatever was inside of him. It was volatile, it strayed from her with as much fight as it could muster... this was Alexander's doing. He'd let his soldiers get taken down by her own, all so that he could put every ounce of focus into seizing control of her dear prince.

 He threw his head back as the darkness fractured beneath his skin. His scream was grating, his fingers clawed at his neck, tendons flexing until they were drawn taut. He scrambled to his knees, chest heaving... Aleksa wanted to reach out, and yet all she could do was snatch Alina's hand from the air as it inched closer to Nikolai.

 He released another raw scream... and then his palms met the ground. Two black shards erupted from his back, unfurling like wings. His head shot up, tears leaking from his eyes — Aleksa had never seen Nikolai cry even when he'd been stung by an Inferni's flames.

 His face was smothered in sweat, droplets clinging to his chin, "I —" But he couldn't speak. His hazel eyes, the ones that took utter joy in winking and twinkling like stars... they turned black. Endlessly black.

 Aleksa, with a carefulness one could only learn from the Wraith, slowly broke from her crouch. She still had ahold of Alina's hands, and the poor Sun Summoner had threaded them together with a desperation unlike any other. Aleksa dragged her back, even if she wanted nothing more than to banish the nightmare chewing upon Nikolai's flesh.

 Nikolai met their gaze head-on. No clever hazel. No tick to his lips. No witty remark dangling from that silver tongue. His lips curled back, revealing pointed teeth of black... they were no longer teeth, but fangs lusting for blood.

 He snarled, lashing forth like a feral dog with a rope around its neck. His teeth were bared, his eyes endless as his hands scrambled for purchase.

 Aleksa couldn't bring herself to even raise her hands to fight as he stumbled... Alina, however shaky her fingers might have been, rose them all the same.

 "Hungry?" Aleksander said, and Aleksa could practically hear the grin on his lips, "I wonder which of your friends you'll eat first."

 Aleksa thought it would have been easier than this, to see someone you cared for rendered incapable of taming their own body, their own thoughts. She couldn't kill him, she decided that much... for while Aleksa Morozova could slice a man in two, or carve out their heart with a grin... she could never do it to someone she cared for. Loyalty... perhaps it'd be the death of her.

 "Come on," Aleksa whispered, looking at the mangled body of Nikolai Lanstov growing near, "You don't want this, Nik. I know you fancy me, but this is simply too far."

 The half-man, half-beast snorted... a glimmer of their poor prince shining through. His face spasmed in pain, his hands clawing at the ground in an attempt to get his body to stop moving closer. He tried with everything within him to tame the ravenous hunger within, and like the good man he was, and always would be, Nikolai managed to fight the desire for carnage as he tossed himself into the sky, black wings beating.

 He was gone in seconds, with nothing but a dull grey sky left in his wake. It started to rain then, as though the sky was weeping along with the summoners upon the terrace. Aleksa heaved a breath, trying her utmost to seal away the heartbreak carving into her face.

 "Eventually," Aleksander drew out, "He will feed."

 There was nothing to be done as Alina let out a cry of utter outrage and pain. She sent her arms forth, blinding sunlight bursting in perfect arcs. The light seared and streamed, slicing the nichevo'ya into two, bursting others like balloons...

 But Aleksa could sense the arrival of someone else. She peered over her shoulder — Baghra.

 She hobbled as a young boy — Misha — held her arm and drew her forth. Her black eyes, so similar to Nikolai's, glinted as the harsh bursts of sunlight continued firing and firing, slicing monsters, air and clouds.

 Aleksa took careful steps back, "Baghra what —"

 "Hush, girl." Baghra snapped, yet as ever, her words appeared softer than usual in the presence of the little shadow. Maybe it was her old age finally catching up to her, maybe it was the way her own shadows wished for release, to follow the young girl instead... Baghra seized her wrist and felt the shadows within Aleksa's bones come alive, "We will stop them."

 Aleksa said nothing, and as Baghra stepped closer and closer, one hand still clasping Aleksa... The youngest summoner brought her hand high. The two of them reached for the darkness writhing in the sky, for the black mass of limbs and claws and fangs... It was easier to stop them than conjure them, even easier with a centuries-old amplifier clinging to her flesh.

 The nichevo'ya stopped, hanging in the air. Their bodies grew limp, wings moving in a silent and calm rhythm. Aleksa felt as though she was holding the strings of a puppet as they remained motionless, waiting for her to tug and teeter.

 "Abomination." Baghra bit, her voice as cold as the Fjerdan wind whipping at their cheeks. Her head tilted just ever so slightly towards Misha, "Go on, boy, run to the scrawny little Saint." When Misha hesitated she patted his cheek none too gently, "Go on."

 All it took was Misha's name slipping from Mal's tongue for the young boy to bolt towards him, ducking under his heavy green coat.

 "Guide me," Baghra said, and so Aleksa started to walk. The itch of holding the shadows taut still trailed the length of her arms as they remained in the sky, watching through black eyes.

 They walked past one of the nichevo'ya who seemed to whimper, and Aleksa found that all it took was the slight cock of her head for it to follow her. Obedient little thing. Baghra had noticed, of course, and merely hummed in utter distaste. It didn't matter how much Aleksa claimed to feel no pull to Merzost, any remnant left a bitter taste on Baghra's tongue.

 Aleksander's face had contorted, and it was the first time even a spark of colour lit beneath his flesh. Redness encased his cheeks, barely there and yet visible all the same; the colour of outrage, "I should have known I'd find you cloistered with the enemy. Go back inside," he ordered. "My soldiers will not harm you."

 Baghra ignored him. When they reached the very edge of the terrace, the old woman let out a sigh... she sounded, almost contented, and Aleksa found she rather hated that little revelation.

 "What is it you want?" asked Aleksander. "And do not hope to plead for mercy for these fools."

 "Only to meet your monsters," Baghra said. She leaned her old walking stick against the wall, holding out her free arm. The nichevo'ya responded to her in a way not entirely unlike Aleksa; they were kin and all too eager to nuzzle into her palms, chittering softly like a hoard of cicadas, "They know me, these children. Like calls to like, the littlest shadow knows that well — better than you ever have."

 Had they not been surrounded by Aleksander's forces, had the yells and cries of Grisha and otkazat'sya fighting not grated against her ears... Aleksa might have jabbed at her for the compliment.

 Aleksander turned his nose up, "Stop this."

 Baghra's free palms began to flood with darkness, blots and tendrils seeping from her aged flesh like fresh ink. The sight was strange to Aleksa, for while she'd seen Baghra fill her old hut with nothing but shadows... she'd never done much more than that.

 "I will not fight you," Aleksander said, and Aleksa knew his voice was filled with nothing but sincerity... There was a jolt within her gut, he'd turned his forces upon her, his nichevo'ya, his cut and still decided it was apt to call her sister.

 Baghra let the shadows spill further, they slipped from her hands... and then she dropped Aleksa's, "Strike me down."

 "You know I won't."

 There it was, the final piece of the young boy with dark hair Baghra had once known. She chuckled, a true smile tugging at her dried lips, "It's true. That's why I still have hope." Her voice lowered, to a mere whisper as she craned her head closer to Aleksa, "Little shadow... You will win this, but you will be alone."

 Aleksa swallowed; her biggest fear... and Baghra, a woman who seemed physically incapable of telling a lie just to soothe the nerves, had spoken it aloud. It was true, they would win... but winning would take Aleksander's life. It would likely take Alina's... and with the way Baghra was speaking, Aleksa knew what was about to transpire.

 She'd be the last of them, a lone summoner with power that shouldn't truly exist.

 "I know," Aleksa whispered, her lip wobbling. She was quite glad Baghra couldn't see that, "It's alright."

 "No, it isn't." words ebbed in sadness; a final bout of kindness was all Baghra had left to give, "Help the girl, make sure she does not fail me again... and become something new. Leave merzost behind... leave Morozova behind."

 But Aleksa couldn't do that, could she?  Lest she drain her blood from her body.

 "The girls aren't strong enough to fight me either, old woman," Aleksander bellowed, though his voice was tightening as Baghra pushed Aleksa's shoulder, "Take up your stick, and I will return you to the Little Palace."

 "Baghra —" Alina tried, having swiftly understood what Baghra was about to do. A sacrifice, a mother giving herself up to show her son the consequences of his actions. She might have been the last person he truly cared for, even if he had stolen her sight...

 "My hut. My fire. That sounds a pleasant thing," she said. "But I find the dark is the same wherever I am. Remember that, little shadow. You will find the dark everywhere, and it'll always answer... you have a strange connection to the shadows, stronger than I, stronger than he..."

 "You earned those eyes," Aleksander said coldly, and though his downturned lips showed anger, there was just a sliver of hurt huddled away.

 "I did," She said with a sigh, "And more."

 Then, without even a hint of warning, Baghra slammed her hands together. Thunder boomed high over the white-capped mountains, tearing through the sky like a downpour of bullets. Darkness billowed from her palms like banners unfurling. They twisted and curled, they writhed and coiled... the nichevo'ya shrieked and jittered, writing in confusion as shadows curled around them.

 "Know that I loved you," Baghrea said to Aleksander, and the facade on his face slipped for just a moment, "Know that it was not enough."

 And that was the difference between brother and 'sister'. Aleksa had only craved love, and it would always be enough... she just never quite seemed capable of reaching it.

 In a swift movement, Baghra shoved herself up on the wall, the only thing that had kept her from toppling off the terrace. Aleksa turned away, able to hear the shuffle of her shoes, the whoosh of air that parted ways as Bagra tipped herself forth and vanished over the ledge. All but one nichevo'ya followed her, forced to tumble after her in an unruly rush. They were nothing more than a crashing wave of black that plummeted, drawn away by Baghra's power.

 Yet one stayed, one dutiful monster remind, untempted by the power Baghra had displayed; the one Aleksa had taken from the Darkling. It remained by her side like a loyal lapdog, crouched at her feet as its body writhed like worms beneath a thin slate of earth.

 "No!" Alexander bellowed, and his voice shook the skies. He dove after her, the wings of his soldiers beating in sync with his blistering rage.

 She'd brought them time, and now it was time to seize their chance.

 Alina was on the verge of weeping, but Aleksa took her wrist, another at Mal's back as she forced him forward. She was careful of poor little Misha who sobbed into Mal's coat, burying his face as his cries rattled his shoulders.

 "Now! Go!" Aleksa cried, tugging on Alina as Mal scooped Misha into his arms. They ran through the observatory as nichevo'ya streamed past them in a flurry, each of them all too eager to chase after the trail of shadows Baghra had left behind.

 Aleksa couldn't quite recall how many times she and Alina had raised their arms, forming blades of both light and dark to clear their way. The lone nichyevo by Aleksa's side tore past those loyal to Aleksander, wiping them upon the ground as its skittering cries echoed out.

 She mourned as she fought. Allowing emotion to guide her hand. Cut upon volatile cut left her fingertips. Waves of shadows thick enough to sink ships billowed from her palms, striking like harsh ocean waters against a craggy coast.

 Only when they'd made it upon the deck of the Bittern, did Aleksa finally let her arms rest. Only then did she turn her sights to the masses of people weighing their ship down. She couldn't be sure what Nevesky had said as he clapped Alina on the shoulder... but soon enough, he and his men vaulted themselves over the side of the ship, all to ensure that their remaining Squallors could carry the ship high enough.

 More sacrifice, more people toppling to their death.

 Aleksa watched them all land safely, guns at their shoulders as Grisha and otkazat'sya alike began to rain fire.

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DATE: 11-08-2024

:･ﾟ★ i love that quote from baghra, honestly. she slayed. she ate. she absolutely devoured her son, js <3

aleksa and baghra > musty, crusty and dusty aleksander

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