She burns white-hot, a dying supernova, for a mere second - and then it's gone, back to a reduced shadow (light?) of its former self. Alina wheezes, and looks at Mal's face - paler, deader.
"Save him, please,", she wheezes to - Tamar? Tolya? Mozorova? -, hears the faint need for light, and when she turns her hands, Alina produces a shaky ray of light, and unwanted relief washes over her. She never let herself be struck by these powers, and yet, and yet.
The black sky gives way to blue, and in the background, thousands of Sun Summoners appeared, chasing away the darkness the Darkling had created so long ago.
Shadow and light continue dance. Alina wins, but loses.
Mal is pronounced dead. Alina feels dead.
She faints. When she next wakes up, she is alone, a glass of stagnant water by her side and the taste of apples in her tongue. Alina drinks, feeling exhaustion on her bones.
"Hey,", a voice calls, and Alina looks up (hopes to see Mal) to meet Genya's soft expression. The redhead sits by her side on the floor.
Silence moves the dust around them.
"How are things outside?", is this her voice? So raspy, so unused, so sad? Alina is unsure.
"Chaotic. There are people saying you're dead."
"I feel dead."
Genya smiles.
"Go back to sleep, Alina. When you wake up again, I'll make a redhead out of you."
Alina laughs. It is a weak and hollow sound.
When Alina is well enough (can she be?), she visits Nikolai. He had a book on his lap, a bottle of kvass by his side, and the gloomiest expression she had ever seen him put.
The door closes, he jumps (like loud sounds scare him), and looks at Alina for one second as she sits by his side.
Nikolai makes a witty commentary, she replies in kind, banter following soon after.
He couldn't read as a monster, and by the looks of it, Nikolai was learning how to again. He passes a finger (nicked and cut and scarred with small black lines) over the page.
"So, Sankta Alina. I was going to offer you a position as a Kerch magnat's daughter, maybe a Shu princess, but it seems you're quite alive,", he jokes. She cracks a smile.
"Would you rather see me dead? Unbelievable,", Alina replies. "And to think I was going to marry you."
Nikolai perks up, and Alina regrets her joke.
"Would you?"
Alina's hand slips to the emerald in her pocket, its weight oddly familiar.
"I… I don't know,", she admits, and Nikolai nods.
"It's him, isn't it.", and it is not a question. Alina doesn't think it should've been, anyway.
"Mal had a name."
Nikolai's eyes tear away from her, and she feels… Guilty. It's ridiculous.
"Sorry,", both of them say at the same time, and look at each other with surprise. Then, like they had practiced it, Alina and Nikolai start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.
When laughter ceases, Alina takes the bottle of kvass to herself and takes a swig of it. She offers it to Nikolai, who accepts it, and after drinking it, puts it back where it was.
"You know, I can wait a few years. I'm young, I don't need to be married right now,", Nikolai muses, and Alina nods. "I have time to wait for you, hm?"
Alina snorts. Sure. Nikolai? Wait for someone? A joke.
"Yeah, sure. I hope that, when you die childless, the meeting to decide who will get Ravka will be peaceful,", she replied, and Nikolai made a dramatic motion.
"I cannot, then, in good mind, make my will normal. To be my heir, I'm going to need a creative poetry and symphonic music competition to be put in place."
She laughs, and when the sound startles her, Alina laughs more. Nikolai soon joins her, and she decides she'll later blame this on trauma.