THEN

Yelena took her time on the way to Serdtse's main square. She knew to enjoy her solace while she could as, despite her living on the outskirts of the village with only her father as company, she still managed to feel suffocated.

Was it possible… to feel both painfully alone yet also overwhelmingly crowded?

She supposed it was because that was how she felt. Her only companionship was that of her father, yet even on the best days, the dark-haired girl longed for a reason to venture outside of their small hut for one reason or another. Typically, she managed to kill time by gardening or foraging. Even hunting occasionally. But the trips into town she could stretch to last all day—an entire day of freedom.

Her hands gripped the strap of her canvas bag protectively. It was quite the walk into town and the woods were an unpredictable place. There could be animals lurking in the brush, dangerous if she spooked them. Or possibly even a rogue hunter or thief, taking cautious steps among the fallen branches and dried leaves.

It was growing colder every day as winter approached with icy fervor. Winter was always the most dangerous time for her and her father. When the crops would die off, the villagers would branch out to search for food and they would wander closer to her home. If she was normal—an otkazat'sya like them—then she would have no reason to worry. But, the small Lebedev family relied heavily on her gift to sustain them through the bitter months.

The hunting parties that could happen upon their home—and thus the garden that lay not too far from the rickety, wooden hut—would question why the plants continued to grow despite the frost covering the ground around them.

Yelena and her father had already survived one witch-hunt. There was no guarantee that they would survive another.

The minutes passed like hours as she continued toward the town, not that she was complaining. The woods silent around her. Even the chirping of the birds was scarce as they started to migrate south. Soon, she wouldn't even have the animals to turn to in her times of need.

However, eventually, the silence of her morning stroll was interrupted as the bustle of town took its place. The people of Serdtse were early risers. They had to be. Their community was relatively small and most of their business came from the small port that was set up on the Sokol River. It was a frequent stop for ships bringing supplies to and from the True Sea to inland Ravka at Ryevost. But, the merchant ships would never stay long before continuing on their journeys.

Yelena would sometimes dream of sneaking aboard, hiding among the cargo as a stowaway until the ship would carry her somewhere far away from the life she lived. But, those were dreams for a child, dreams that were abandoned just as quickly as they were thought up. She had responsibilities, to herself and to others. If only it was so simple to just run away.

The dark-haired girl kept her eyes on the cobblestone paths that weaved between buildings, avoiding bumping the surrounding townspeople. She had lived outside the village for a few years now yet she could still hear their whispers. Chuzhezemets, they would call her. Outlander. They knew her, yet she was still foreign to them. A stranger among the people who had lived there for their entire lives, as had their parents and grandparents before them. Her light, tawny skin and curly hair had not helped her to blend in either. She only stood out in a sea of pale faces and smooth locks.

Thankfully, over time the whispers had died down, as had the curious and cautious looks. They seemed to grow used to her and Yelena hoped that was a good thing.

The dark-haired girl continued deeper into town, her steps filled with purpose as she propelled herself forward through the growing crowd. She had her errands to run, but she always made sure to stop at one shop first.

The bell above the door rang as she entered the cramped shop. Books and other oddities scattered the shelves in a disorganized fashion. Yelena could barely keep the small smile off her lips, as she knew whose job it was to keep the shop neat and orderly. It didn't seem like they were keeping up with their work.

"Malin!" she called out, not spotting the bright head full of long, white-blonde hair. The girl was the closest Yelena could call a friend, except she was otkazat'sya so they could never truly be friends.

"I'll be there in a second," the Lebedev girl heard from the back room of the shop followed by a loud thump and a string of curses. This time she did allow the corner of her lips to pull into a smile. It felt odd. To smile. To be happy.

"Are you alright back there?" Yelena called to the other girl.

Suddenly, Malin popped around the corner, an easy grin stretched across her face. She raised a hand and waved at Yelena dismissively. "I'm fine!" she chimed. "I also have a surprise for you," the dark-haired girl raised a curious eyebrow at the remark.

"For me?" she questioned, causing the blonde to roll her eyes dramatically.

"No, Yelena. I was speaking to that old pair of boots in the corner." Malin was the only one who ever referred to Yelena by her name. But, perhaps that was because she was the only person that had bothered to learn it.

The blonde girl bent down behind the counter, her waist-long hair fanning out over her shoulders. She muttered a low 'Ah-ha!' before standing abruptly, a wrapped, brown package in her hands."Here," she said, handing it to Yelena.

The dark-haired girl took it gently, not sure how to react to being given a gift. She could hardly remember the last gift she was given.

Opening the brown wrapping, she uncovered a thin book, bound with careful stitching and a pressed wood cover. It was a rather extravagant gift, even from Malin whose father owned the shop. "Where did you get this?" she asked. Books were rare around these parts. Most of their information was passed along on scrolls or loose parchment and that was for the people who were literate enough to actually read and write. Real bound books were filled with only the most important of information, most of which was religious text detailing the lives of the Saints. "I can't accept this."

Malin brushed her off. "Please, spare me your modest drivel. I'm tired of watching you scribble your little drawings on shreds of old parchment. They need a space that's worthy of them to be presented on. Besides, it's not like I paid for it."

"Malin!" Yelena scolded, causing a boisterous laugh to bubble out of the other girl. "It's not funny. You're going to get caught one day."

"That is never going to happen," the blonde ensured. Malin had a horrible habit of nicking things that didn't belong to her. It was never anything major—a scarf here, a bag of jurda there. She didn't do it because she coveted… things. She did it simply because she wanted to and she could. Much to Yelena's dismay, she'd gotten quite good at it. "I snatched it off a merchant at the port who just left for Os Kervo not too long ago. By the time he even notices that it's gone—if he notices—it'll be far too late to do anything about it."

"Whatever you say. Just don't come crying to me when they cut off your hands and you need help to wipe your own ass," the dark-haired girl quipped, now holding the thin, blank journal to her chest protectively.

Malin scoffed. "You would leave me to suffer. Even after I've given you such a thoughtful gift."

"Yes," Yelena answered, her voice even and any evidence of a smile gone from her face. It didn't last long though as the two girls quickly erupted into a fit of laughter, unable to keep up their acts for long.

"Honestly though, enjoy the damn book. I'd do just about anything to not have to watch you brood for another day. It's depressing."

"I don't brood!" Yelena objected indignantly, but she was ignored.

"Where else are you off to today?" Malin asked, changing the subject although she was rather satisfied with how defensive Yelena had gotten. "I would love to tag along on the excitement, but father's out for the morning and it's just me here."

Malin's father ran the curio shop in town. It had a wide range of objects for sale, mostly things he had acquired over time from one person or another. Things people had no need for but others might in the future. He would also help track down items for customers for an added fee. A task he was most likely doing as the two girls stood in the cramped shop.

"Well, I need more jars. If I'm going to make enough coin to last us through winter, I'm going to have to spend all week canning."

"Everything you grow turns out wonderful," the blonde said dreamily. "You should really start charging more. These fools would pay top mark."

"You think?"

"Absolutely! No one else's produce can compare." Maybe she would. Adding a little more weight to her coin pouch couldn't hurt.

"Oh!" Malin exclaimed, startling Yelena with the sudden outburst. "I almost forgot to tell you. You're no longer the newcomer around here."

Yelena narrowed her eyes. "Really? Are they staying for good?" she asked, trying not to seem too hopeful. While people came and went from town frequently, they did not usually stick around for long. She and her father had been the most recent, and they had arrived years ago. If this newcomer stuck around, then they would become the new center of attention, the new object of their gossip, and Yelena could be free of the townspeople's wary gazes and poorly hidden, scathing remarks.

"As far as I know," the blonde shrugged. "It's a young man and his mother. Saw them this morning when I was opening up. He's handsome too. Like someone plucked the perfect man from my thoughts and brought him to life before me."

Yelena let out a laugh. Malin's flair for the dramatic never failed to amuse her.

"But," the blonde continued, her wistful tone now tinged with faux melancholy. "It was too good to be true, I suppose. He's much too broody for my tastes. Walked around town looking like you, averting his eyes and keeping to himself."

"That doesn't make him broody. He's just not as outgoing, and dare I say, obnoxious as you," Yelena said, defending him. She didn't even know him and she doubted he was Grisha. She shouldn't even care. Her father always told her that as Grisha, they were more than otkazat'sya could ever hope to be and that the otkazat'sya were driven by their envy as a result. Grisha lives didn't matter to them, so why should their mere opinions matter to her? Yet, a part of her—perhaps her childhood naiveté—held out hope that Grisha and otkazat'sya could live together and that's why she cared.

"You wound me, truly," Malin rebutted. Just before Yelena could continue her unfounded defense of the boy she didn't even know, the bell above the door rang again and another customer wandered into the shop.

Malin's face lit up in a wide, forced grin, nothing like the genuine ones she shared with Yelena moments before. She greeted the customer, playing a new role as a gracious shopkeeper. The customer greeted her back before his eyes flittered to Yelena. His wary eyes were enough to send Yelena on her way, not wanting to subject herself to his stare any longer.

With a brief wave, she left Malin in the curio shop and continued with her errands, her new book tucked into her bag. She hummed a gentle tune to herself as she walked the lullaby her mother would sing to her as she drifted to sleep as a child. Yelena turned to the tune often for comfort.

She spent the next few hours moseying about the town square, moving from shop to shop and gathering the supplies she needed that she could not create herself. By the time she was finished, her bag was packed with a roll of twine, some spare cloth to finally patch her ripped skirt, and a few apples. She also carried a crate filled with repurposed jars. A very heavy crate.

Yelena approached the edge of town with little incident. Despite enjoying her walk to town, she was not going to enjoy the trip back with her newfound cargo. Especially since she couldn't even see where she was stepping.

The dark-haired girl struggled under the weight of the crate and right as she went to adjust her grip, her foot caught on a loose cobblestone and her ankle rolled, sending her to the ground.

Except she never hit the ground.

Two arms reached out to steady her, helping to support her weight as she found her footing once again. "T-Thank you," she said, her voice catching as she gathered her wits after her near wipeout. "Would've been a mess if you hadn't been there," she added lightly, trying to appear friendly and disarming. With any luck, that would be the end of this conversation and whatever villager that decided to be her hero for the moment would go on with his day. Then, they could both pretend this never happened and ignore each other's existence when she inevitably ventured back into town the following week.

But, when she turned to the chivalrous man who dropped his arms from her when she steadied herself, she found herself falling into his dark gaze.

Yelena knew she had never seen eyes as dark, yet inviting as his. Without even asking, she knew that this was the newcomer that Malin had mentioned because surely she would've remembered seeing him in Serdtse before then. The blonde girl had been accurate in her description. He was perfect.

The blonde shopkeeper had been right. He was handsome. His hair nearly as dark as his eyes, a light stubble covered his jaw. His skin was pale though, contrasting against the black, dyed fabric of his attire. He stared down at her, not in the apprehensive way that most did, but almost as if he was intrigued by her.

It was then she became vaguely aware that she was staring. "I'm Yelena," she introduced on a whim. She never bothered with introductions before, so why now? Malin had to twist her arm to get a proper introduction from her when they first met, but with him, she needed him to know.

If asked, Yelena would never be able to properly explain the pull he had over her, even from this first encounter. It was magnetic. A force greater than her—and there weren't many—set her nerves alight. No longer was the hum coming from behind her lips, but from within her.

"Be careful, Yelena," he responded. His remark wasn't scolding or condescending as she would've expected from anyone else after her act of clumsiness. It seemed… cheeky—teasing—as the corner of his mouth twitched while he held back the slightest of smiles.

He turned to walk away, but the Lebedev girl couldn't let him walk away so soon. She was spoiled today. First, her new notebook. Now, this chance meeting with a handsome stranger. But, she wanted more still. She couldn't let him leave without knowing his name.

"What? I don't get to know the name of my savior?" she said, just loud enough to catch his attention. She didn't know when she got so bold. Malin was definitely rubbing off on her. It worked though and he turned back to look at her.

"My apologies. I'm Adrian."

NOW

The Unsea lay before her; the winds that kicked up at the edge whipped her hair around her and into tangles. She would loathe trying to unweave the strands later, but she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet.

She was half a mile north of Kribirsk, a place to which she often found herself venturing. When she stared into the Shadow Fold, it was almost as if she could imagine the village of Serdtse off in the distance. But, it wasn't there any longer. Instead, it was a pile of ash encased in opaque and unyielding darkness. Its citizens turned to monsters; men, women, and children.

They were monsters before they were volcra, the bitter voice in the back of her mind tried to remind her but she pushed it away. No, she would no longer allow those thoughts to taint her views. The otkazat'sya were ignorant, yes. But, ignorance was better fought with knowledge, with education, rather than brute force. She had spent a long time trying to convince herself into believing that.

She reached out, her hands almost touching the abyss, but she stopped just before they could. Ribbons of darkness unfurled from the Fold, drifting out to brush against her fingertips like the soft caress of a long-lost lover.

Yelena closed her eyes as the familiar hum filled her once more. She remembered the first time she felt it, how confused she had been yet she fed into it anyway. She enjoyed the feeling of invincibility it gave her. Feeling invincible was dangerous, but how could she not feel that way? There she was at the edge of the Shadow Fold, a place daunting to even the bravest of men and the cause of so much death, yet she was unafraid.

The notion of death did not frighten her. Part of her longed for it and the escape it would offer after the centuries of accursed life she had been gifted. She could never be afraid of death. It was merely the other side of the coin for her. Like called to like, a lesson she would never forget.

The journey back to Kribirsk, her new home, for the time being, was going to be a long one, but she was used to it. Besides, the town was quickly filling with First and Second Army alike, preparing for the next trip across the Unsea.

It was ironic really. Once upon a time, she was embittered by her forced loneliness, wanting to branch out yet terrified to do so. But, now, after spending so much time around both otkazat'sya and Grisha, she found it exhausting to be around others. Having come full circle, she preferred isolation.

Although, she did have her exceptions. Friends and loved ones she longed to have by her side once more.

The army encampment that surrounded the awaiting sand skiff appeared as Yelena grew closer to town. She snuck back into the town limits under the cover of darkness, trying not to draw attention to herself as she returned to her room. It had not been easy for an unmarried woman like herself to secure a roof over her head for an extended period of time. Thankfully, one of the innkeepers was… a family friend, and owed her a favor.

Katya had much of the same spunk Malin had, something that Yelena looked upon fondly. The young blonde was one of the few Grisha the dark-haired woman knew that managed to avoid being swept up by the Second Army.

When Yelena had asked, the blonde girl simply shrugged and said, "The only payment I accept for my secrets is a strong bottle of kvas." The Lebedev woman took that as a challenge yet still had not been able to find a bottle strong enough. Or, maybe being a talented Corporalnik made it harder to get drunk.

The moon was high in the sky when Yelena finally entered the inn. Dmitri, the barkeep, greeted her with a nod of his head as she hurried up the stairs to her awaiting bed. The sheets weren't the finest, but they worked for her. She had worse. And she was paying half price, so she didn't really have room to complain.

She collapsed onto her bed, only caring enough to kick her boots off before attempting to fall into a deep slumber. But, before she could, a knock sounded against the heavy wooden door. Holding back the audible groan that she wanted to unleash, she pushed herself to her feet to answer it.

Katya stood on the other side, a small dinner plate in her hand. She didn't say anything at first. She just pushed past the dark-haired woman to set the plate on her nightstand. "Thought you might be hungry since you skipped dinner tonight."

"You know, for someone a fraction of my age, you really enjoy mothering me," Yelena joked.

The young blonde huffed. "Well, someone has to look out for you, Santka Yelena," she teased. "Just because you're practically immortal doesn't mean you can't starve to death."

"Oh no, you've figured out my plan," the older woman drawled out, earning an unamused look from her blonde friend.

"Don't joke about that," Katya said seriously. Yelena knew that joking about her death made Katya uncomfortable, but sometimes that what death seemed like to her—a joke. "So, what made you skip dinner this time?" she pressed, worry still tingeing her tone.

The older woman had a habit of skipping out on meals and so Katya had made it her responsibility to break Yelena of that habit, even though Yelena had assured her multiple times that it was far from her problem.

"The usual," Yelena answered, plucking the plate from the nightstand and sitting on her bed with it. The smell made her realize just how hungry she was. She took a forkful of the braised meat and chewed it before elaborating. "More tourists clamoring to have their fortunes told. A couple of First Army soldiers wandered by too."

"You mean you scamming people over your fake fortunes?" It was true. The tawny-skinned woman's most recent con to earn coin came in the manner of impersonating a Suli fortune-teller. But, only half of it was a lie: she wasn't really a fortune-teller.

Yelena sighed. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news Katya, but all fortunes are fake. You simply tell them what they want to hear because no one likes to pay for bad news. If being able to see the future was a reality, I would know about it and the Second Army would've swept the poor sap up to use in a second."

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest, "I suppose you're right." Her long, wavy hair was tied into a loose braid as she turned to leave the room. She hesitated at the door though. "I heard word that tomorrow is the day when the last of the First and Second Army will appear for the voyage across the Unsea."

The dark-haired woman furrowed her eyebrows. That was to be expected as the trip was in two days. So why was Katya tell her something she already knew?

The younger girl must've seen the confusion in her eyes. "He's going to be at this crossing, Lena. The Darkling will be in Kribirsk in less than a day. Thought you might want to mentally prepare yourself for that one."

Yelena halted her movements, her fork halfway to her mouth. Slowly, she lowered it back to her plate, her appetite suddenly escaping her. It wouldn't be the first time she saw him in quite some time. But, the two had found that sooner or later, they always ended up returning to each other. For better or worse.

Over time, there had been others, brief romances and flings—and she was sure there had been others for him too—but they were fleeting moments in her otherwise long life. Nothing could ever compare to the hold he had on her heart. Because to the rest of Ravka, he might be the Darkling.

But, to her, he was her Sasha.

New update! I'll probably get one more update out before the end of the week. It will also be a kind of precursor chapter that will follow Tasiya before the actual Shadow and Bone storyline. I can't write for Shadow and Bone until I get home at the end of the week because that's where my copy of the book is.

So I've made my final decisions for how I'm going to approach this book. I'm mostly going to use the books, but I'll take some details from the show. The most major idea I'm going to pull from the show is the eventual crossover with Six of Crows because I think it'll work rather well for what I have planned.

As I was writing this chapter, I realized who I was drawing some inspiration from with Yelena's character so let me know if you catch on to it. The person she is during the THEN sections is a vastly different person than the NOW sections. But, hey, that happens when you're alive for a few hundred years.

Lastly, the trolls that are plaguing the reviews of every writer in this fandom right now, what is your goal exactly? You are judging a story purely on the Darkling tag in the summary. I don't even know why I'm bothering to write this and address you because it seems very obvious that you aren't actually reading the stories. But, #writetospite I guess… If you honestly think you can bully people and shame them into quitting their stories, you are so entitled and arrogant. Please remove yourself.

ANYWAY…

Don't forget to review and let me know what you thought (constructive criticism and real thoughts please, not just anonymous hate for the sake of hate) and also follow/favorite!