You're his mother." Baghra's shadows seemed to be pressing closer, the inky blackness close enough to smother me. Fear crept down my spine, and my mind raced.

Aleksander's-her son's- shadows had never frightened me, not really. I find them strangely beautiful, just as hauntingly beautiful as their master. They felt almost familiar, in the same way my light was familiar, the way he was familiar. They were almost an extension of him. I had wondered how they would feel on my skin. Would they be cold and malicious? Soft and comforting? Powerful and tender? I wanted to reach out and touch them, almost certain they wouldn't hurt me, he wouldn't hurt me.

I knew most feared them, what child had not been afraid of the dark once upon a time? I had feared it once too, knew I should probably fear it now, fear him. But I couldn't make myself.

Shadows had never been kind to me, Darkness brought no comfort. Since I was a child, since my village burned, I have been alone. My days usually filled with the orphanage, with Mal, and it was easier to forget my terrors. But at night, in the dark, there was nothing to distract me from the emptiness inside me, the fear. Children with families could hide in their mothers embrace when the nightmares and monsters in the dark came. What did I have? Nothing, no one but Mal. My only real friend.

But not even Mal could protect me at night. In the evening, they separated us lest anyone get any scandalous ideas. We were separated when we joined the first army, me tucked away with the rest of the cartographers and him with the soldiers. Our paths crossed often enough, but never for long. And I was alone again.

The dark brought nightmares with it, shadow-filled dreams of a village-my village-burning. Screaming, the smell of burning flesh, and those oppressive shadows dancing around the edge of my vision. My mother begging, someone, something for her daughter's life. Kneeling in front of a wall of shadow sobbing.

Please, she's just a child! She's innocent! She's done nothing! My father, in a pool of blood, slumped against the wall, unmoving.

In my nightmares the shadows had answered.

It must be. She will bring death to us all.

And then Mother fell silent, a line of shadows taking her head from her body. I could do nothing but sob as she slumped to the ground, blood soaking the floor of our home. The shadows had rushed toward my hiding place outside the window immediately and I ran. It was never fast enough. And no matter how many times I hoped I'd outrun the snarling, angry blackness, it caught me each and every time, pushing in from all around me. Suffocating me.

More often than not, I'd wake screaming, sure the darkness would be there to finish the job. It never did. I'd been told by Ana Kuya that my parents had likely perished crossing the Fold. But the dream felt so real that it made me wonder if it was more then just a dream.

I snapped back to the present and found Baghra's cold, calculating eyes boring into me.

"My son tried creating his own army with merzost. He didn't think about the people who lived there, what such power would do to them. Turned them into the twisted, evil things that attacked you." I heard Baghra continue, heard myself respond. But it did not feel real. No. She must be wrong. He couldn't have. I didn't want to believe it. I'd barely known him a few months and yet... there was something there. I was sure of it. Had been certain of it. Something that had felt so real, and so right. For once I hadn't felt so alone. Could it really have all been a lie? Some trick to use me?

My mind couldn't help but flash back to the way he looked at me at the Winter Fête, an almost longing, hungry look in his eyes. How his kisses felt needy, almost desperate. Like he needed me. Me. It had sparked a rush of desire, and I couldn't help but marvel at how perfectly I fit in his embrace, how perfectly we fit together. This was where I belonged. He had seemed similarly affected. The way his hands never stayed still as he kissed me, hungrily memorizing and claiming as much as he could. The tenderness in his eyes when he finally forced himself to break away, only to return a moment later to give a final, breathtaking, kiss. I'd never felt this way before. I'd never wanted anyone like this before. Had it really all been a manipulation? Did he really feel nothing for me? Could he really fake this connection between us? Why?

"He's had many names, served many kings, faked countless deaths, waiting for you... waiting to use you. To take your power for his own. You must leave now, before he makes a slave of you with that stag. While you have a choice still. The world will burn if you don't heed me, foolish girl." I stared at the handsome face in the portrait in front of me. There was no mistaking it. Those dark eyes, beautiful, and powerful. Strong jaw, inky black hair… Aleksander's face stared back at me. It was true then. Partly at least. He was the Black Heretic. He created the Fold. He wanted to use her. He was centuries old, had lived more lives than I could even comprehend. Did that mean it was all true? Had he been biding his time, stringing me along until he could use me for his own purposes? Was that all this was? I felt sick.

Then the shadows shifted around us and Baghra cursed, glaring at something behind her. I spun around quickly, foolish hope blossoming in my chest, knew it was him. Certainly, he had an explanation. Baghra had to be lying. Had to be. It had to be a trick.

And there he was, stepping out of the shadows of the tunnel, onyx eyes hard and angry, glaring at us. No. Not at us, at Baghra, at his mother. Aleksander's hands were fisted at his sides, his jaw clenched, his whole body radiating tension and anger. His shadows whipped restlessly around him, and a few tendrils found their way to me, reaching for me. I found myself reaching for them, wanting nothing more than to step towards their comforting embrace, my light calling out for me to comfort his angry shadows, comfort the rage I could almost feel racing through him.

But Baghra's hand grabbed my wrist in a bruising, almost punishing grip, keeping me in place and I hissed. Too tight, who knew the old bat was so strong. Aleksander's rage rolled off of him in waves, and I could clearly see how others could be so afraid of him, his face was murderous. And I just wanted to comfort him, just wanted him. Stupid. Stupid. He's a liar. I shouldn't trust him, shouldn't want to be anywhere near him…but I do. Fuck.

"That's quite enough, mother." He hissed, drawing closer.