Note: Sorry for the long delay. Finally, the story is starting to kick off. I hope you will enjoy it. Let me know!

Beware there will be mentions of self-harm.

What did I just do? I stared at him in confusion. He turned me down. The buzz of alcohol quickly disappeared and left hurt and rejection in its wake. I closed my eyes and rubbed an ache creeping up my temples. Fuck. It dawned on me like a spider crawling up my back. I was drunk. I didn't mean to kiss him. I didn't mean to tell him anything. I just felt lonely and wanted to fill in some of the emptiness I constantly felt. What was I even doing?

"Anja," his voice was gentle, "Anja, please look at me."

I clenched my fists and turned on my heel, but he was faster. He wrapped his hands around me, keeping me in place. This wasn't like me. I couldn't focus.

"At least let me explain before you run away again!" he pushed and pushed and pushed. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, it had its charms.

"You don't have to. I get it," with a groan of frustration, I ran my fingers through my hair. I must've appeared such a fool, opening up my legs like we were anything more than just friends. No, we weren't even friends. Before tonight I haven't seen him for weeks and I should've known that this was just another tactic to manipulate me. Getting me drunk and then prying out anything that I wouldn't've given if I were sober. It worked wonders. Was it a manipulation though?

"No, you don't. You are drunk Anja. I just don't want you to do something you'll regret in the morning," his bare hand brushed against mine and a calm sense of surety flooded me. A deep hollow panic flooded my gut. He was doing it again. Fricking amplifier. Could he amplify my feelings as well?

"Lies," I breathed out, "You are not scared that I'll regret it. This is not about me. It is about you. I am making you want me. And 'wanting makes you weak.' That is what you fear."

"Listen to me," he begged. Him. The Darkling. The Darkling begged me to listen to him.

I finally met his eyes. There was hunger. And pain. And a part of sincerity there. And lies. All that made him the Darkling. And with that realization, I finally pushed him away, instantly feeling the loss of our powers combining. No matter what he said it wouldn't change my mind. He had millennia to perfect his persona. I had only one lifetime. He looked away but not before I saw the perfectly practiced flash of pain on his face.

"It is very late," I smiled sadly at him and slipped out of the doors. A silent plea whispered so lowly that I wasn't sure it was there, but I braced my heart. Stay.

I had a plan, and I would be damned if I would let my loneliness or hormones take that from me. I hurried across the corridor and slipped into my room, locking it behind me. I caught sight of myself in the vanity mirror. I did look like I just had some fun. Cheeks were red, lips slightly bruised, eyes shining, clothes crumpled. I took my time. I understood what happened then. It wasn't me. Maybe not even alcohol. I just followed every single beat of the original book. I could change bits and pieces. Alter the characters that didn't matter. Just not the original plots of the story. The story needed Alina and Darkling to kiss. And they did. Could it be that the story was pushing me? I slumped back against the wall, overcome with rejection, and hurt. I was already used to distancing myself from others, but this hurt.

"Who's the lucky fella?" asked a familiar voice from the shadows.

There was no time to think. I instantly called light, focusing it on a small ball, thinking of a bullet, and sent it after the source of the noise. Nikolai just barely rolled out of the way, the light leaving a few burn marks on his fake face.

"Whoa whoa calm down! It's me!" he protested and raised his hands in defense. "Damn, that hurts."

"I would say I'm sorry but I'm really not," I admitted. "Get to the point Nikolai."

"I wanted to make sure that I didn't misinterpret it. What do you know?" he asked rather bluntly.

"Well now, that is the question, isn't it?" I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him so badly. It was the same impulse I felt with the Darkling. Whatever it was pushing me towards him. "Will your Grisha kill me if you will not be satisfied with my answer?"

"My Grisha?" Nikolai raised an eyebrow. Or maybe I imagined it in the darkened room.

"Your crew. You've collected quite a few unique Grisha of your own," I said after a moment. "They are close by, aren't they?"

He hummed but didn't say anything. I moved closer to see his expressions. He wasn't as skilled in pretending as the Darkling was. He might involuntarily give something up.

"And back to your original question. I know everything, Nikolai. Or almost everything. Now back to my question. Or maybe I should rephrase it, what would it take for your men to kill me?"

"Why would I want to kill you?" he asked. "Who are you? A spy? Do you work for the Darkling?"

"Don't we all?" I shot back.

"What exactly do you know?" his voice turned serious for a moment.

"I know more than enough. Some of those are not secrets of my own. I don't even know where to start…" I took a few minutes of silence to gather my thoughts. There was just too much information.

"Start with how you know all that?" he asked the right question then and there. His face turned sour, and he narrowed his back.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I wasn't sure if I even could answer that.

"Try me."

"I read it in a book," I said then.

Nikolai blinked a few times. "What?"

"I read everything. About this world and the people that live here. I am not Alina Starkov. I just woke up one day as her. I used to be a completely ordinary girl with a happy family and friends in a completely ordinary world. Different from this. I don't know how and why I got here. I've been trying to get back ever since."

In the silence that followed we stared at each other.

"So, you are telling me, that you traveled to a world inside a book."

It sounded crazy. I knew that. I nodded and shrugged. He sat back, looking like he had just been told his mother was into BDSM and he was supposed to join in.

"You are insane," he finally said.

"Maybe a bit. But I told you the truth."

"Drunk then."

"Nikolai Lantsov. You grew up at court and craved attention. You were a bit of a troublemaker? You wanted Vasily's attention and tried to copy him to make him I don't know proud? Happy? However, Vasily paid little attention to you, so you continued to misbehave. I don't remember the exact age, but you were young. You pranked your tutor, and another boy was punished instead of you. From then on, you behaved well. Later on, you and the boy enlisted in the First Army. You were with him when he died.

After the service, you went and became an apprentice to a shipwright, a civil engineer, and a gunsmith, excelling in all professions. This led to you becoming Sturmhond, the privateer, who was given to you by feeding a captain's fingers to his dog. You kept your identity private, except for your most trusted friends Tolya, Tamar, Privyet, and a few of the Etherealki.

Should I continue?" I stared into his eyes, trying to make him understand.

"No. That is enough. So eighter you are a spy of the Darkling and he knows things he shouldn't. Or you can see the past and gone crazy. Or you are telling the truth." Nikolai contemplated his options. "Whatever the reason, I cannot let you get away from my sight until I know the reason why."

"So, what does that mean?" I asked.

"You are leaving with me. Tonight."

"No, I am not. The Darkling will not let me go. He will follow me to the end of the Earth and hunt me down. Genya saw me speaking with you tonight. She will tell. He will make the connection." I argued. I would try my damn hardest to not follow the plot of the book.

"So, what do you propose? Should I kill you here and now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That would be swell but unfortunately, you will not be able to. For whatever reason. Hey, doesn't matter, want to try anyway?"

"No."

"I actually believe it or not have a plan," I smiled and began explaining. We talked in hushed voices for a few hours. Conspiring and planning what was going to happen next. The night was nearing its end. He stepped away and slightly opened the door to ensure the corridor was empty.

"Are you sure?" he asked, turning his head back.

I did hesitate. If I said yes, I would stay in the Little Palace. I would be Darkling's shining toy and would be pranced around before the nobility until they were satisfied. I could say no. I could take him up on his offer. But would that really change anything? Wouldn't I be just following the plot of the story? Not with Maylen who never turned up for whatever reason but just with Nikolai instead. I needed to change the story for the good. I needed to get to Rusalye but on my own terms, not anyone else's. I shook my head. Focus. Voices were coming from down the hall.

"As you wish." Nikolai bolted and I stayed.

The voices passed and I let out a sigh of relief. What would I say if they found the second prince of Ravka in my bedroom? There was no good excuse for it. My mind was abuzz with the possibilities. From across the room, I started at the dinner plate and utensils next to it. I needed relief. To focus. I strode across the room and gripped the knife blade hard in my hand. I didn't want to think anymore. I wanted peace. And, as the blood left my palm and I bled pure sunlight, I was free for a moment.

That night I dreamt again. Not the visions of the silver-haired boy. Not the horrible future that awaited me. I dreamt of the past.

The "perfect" neighborhood doesn't exist. To some, the perfect neighborhood is one where all the homes are close together, so neighbors built a community, easily see, and interact with each other. To someone else, the perfect neighbourhood would be the one where the homes are spread apart, so you can have more privacy and solitude. While there are some general features that most people would agree on, it would always be based on personal preferences. That is for a very simple reason: people have different preferences.

The house we stood in front of was in a neighborhood, that I would describe as "perfect." The sidewalls were wide and overhanging trees with comfortable benches underneath. It was quiet and had minimal traffic as it was the middle of the day. Each house was spaced apart just enough to have a garden full of beautiful flowerbeds and perfectly maintained bushes and trees. The neighborhood was fancier than what I remembered. We stood in front of the house. If I were to describe it, I wouldn't do it justice.

That was the time we moved to the new house. It was full of laughter and good memories. I helped mom unpack all the boxes and got my own room with a big canopy bed, a vanity table, and a whole adjusted dressing room.

"A girl needs a room to herself," said mom.

My favorite room was however the study room. Inside it was carved cabinets, a table, and many libraries full of foreign-looking books. The walls were covered with nautical-looking maps with ornately barbed compass roses and sticky papers. A leather armchair sat in one of the corners and a cane next to it. My father spent hours and hours in that room. He never let us touch anything there. All blinds were always drawn so it felt like an actual night, as if the sun had set the moment, we stepped in. So, when he left us, mom locked the room and threw away the key. For all of us, the room was locked and forgotten. It was his room.

We loved that house. I remembered the time we spent playing in the garden. I was happy there.

In the morning, the injuries sown themselves together by the sizzling light I produced. The cuts weren't deep anyway. So, nobody really noticed. I hid them well, under the black and gold kefta. I learned a valuable lesson. I could get hurt. By my own volition or maybe even by the ill intent of others. That meant that I could get tortured. Not that it mattered much, the pain was more of a relief than I would've thought. I still felt. I still bled. It made me feel alive.

Next few weeks passed in a blur. Secret messages were left in my room, and I wrote the replies. The plan was unfolding itself better than I would've thought. The only unpleasant thing was that I got the menstruation. How did we call it at home? Oh yes, the invasion of the soviet army. Even more unpleasant thing was how they handled it here. A freaking dirty rag soaked in vinegar. It got rid of the smell by overpowering it with the other smell, but it felt like it was burning my insides. The Darkling didn't leave me alone. I got used to seeing him waiting for me everywhere I went. At the end of the corridor, behind the armchair in the library, sitting at the edge of my bed, outside by the lake. I sometimes found myself looking for it when he didn't.

I stayed quiet and compliant until the day I called Darkling's little Tailoress at the first rays of sunlight to my rooms. Soon enough Genya was hurrying through the doors. She was just as perfect and beautiful as always. Hiding her inner scars so well. One had to admire her. I explained what I wanted from her, and she just nodded quietly, setting down her tools in the vanity mirror. She couldn't have expected me to want to change everything, but she was perfectly prepared for it anyway. My skin prickled and itched at the places she touched and for a bit, I couldn't see out of my eyes at all. I briefly wondered if Tolya had to do this every morning for Nikolai. I clenched my hands to keep them from scratching. But in an hour or so she finished.

I sat back and marveled at her work. Tears welled up in my eyes and I almost started crying. It was almost me looking back. Me. My face. My hair. My eyes. My stupid lips and cheekbones. For once in all the time I had been trapped in this world, I was looking at myself.

"Are you okay?" asked Genya in a concerned voice.

"Yes, yes, I am, thank you, Genya," I stood up and gave her a hug. I couldn't see her face, but she froze at the moment. I quickly let her go and moved a few paces away, smiling awkwardly. She couldn't have known what it meant for me. No one could. I always hated looking at myself in the mirror. I looked at my flaws and had a habit of comparing myself to others. I wanted a smaller nose, bigger eyes, fuller lips, and longer lashes. But now, those thoughts disappeared like a distant memory.

"I get it," her voice was low, kind almost. I could see a small smile playing on her lips. "I've perfected myself, but I've had my whole life to do it. You, on the other hand, are not my best work. If you allow me, I can tweak it to perfection."

"No, no, this is perfect," I crossed my arms and looked out of the window.

"Don't get too excited. It is temporary. What are you doing anyway?"

"I haven't asked you yet, but would you like to leave the palace for a few weeks?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she crinkled her nose.

"I will explain everything, it will be all up to you if you'll take me up on my offer. I promise. Now, would you mind getting me servant robes?"

After that, we moved quickly. The "war" council was supposed to start in an hour, and we needed to be there. Genya instructed me on how to stand, how lower my head, and bow before the passing people. I didn't think about it before, but what Genya had to do even though she was Grisha was… degrading. No, humiliating even. She had to pay respect to other Grisha, but they ignored her with contempt. Even though she was one of them. She had to directly serve the Queen during the day and the King during the night.

Genya offered me the last piece of advice before we descended the stairs to the Darkling's quarters: "Don't expect much. All men in power have a tendency to listen with closed ears."

It was dark. There were several people standing around the rounded table, which was littered with maps and papers, and toy soldiers. The furniture was made of dark wood and not enough light penetrated the dark curtains. It felt stuffy and imposing. At the very end of the table stood the Darkling. Next to him stood Ivan, Zoya, and some other Grishas. I saw Sturmhond deep in conversation with some other Otkazat'sya men. No. I reprimanded myself. Not Otkazat'sya, other people. The influence of being around Grisha made me shiver. When did I start thinking about people as us and the others?

I also recognized the Apparat instantly. He was clothed in the same ragged robes as in our previous encounters. He looked up and when he saw me, he smiled, touching his dirty black beard. His flat black pupils lit with the same fanatical intensity. I stayed in the corner of the room quietly with my head dipped, waiting for my chance.

"God works in mysterious ways. He is sending the visions to the Saintess on purpose," the Apparat finally said.

"We cannot overlook this!"

"We can't send the Sun Summoner on the mission. Yet. She is not ready."

"God will protect her! She is His soldier, and she must do His work," argued the Apparat. Some people grumbled and the argument broke out.

"Why not send her to the Fold then?" asked someone.

"She is not ready," repeated the Darkling. "And besides, because of the Winter Fete, everyone that was present now knows how she looks. There might even be portraits of her distributed across the Kingdom. And to Fjerda. And Shu Han. Soon, even the little kids will know. It's not safe."

"Well, thanks for pointing it out. I have a solution for that," I finally stepped in.

"What is this?! Now even servants can speak to the matters of the state?!" asked someone angrily.

Before another argument broke out, I brought my hands together and quickly expanded them. With a loud crack the room filled with my brilliant light.

"Hi," I laughed in the stumped silence that followed, "it's me. Hello."

The plan was actually pretty simple, much to the Darkling's disagreement. We would travel through to the True Sea with Sturmhond and others, which accompanied him to the Palace. It had to be a small company so we wouldn't be recognized. Genya as a Tailor would change the face of one of the Grishas in the palace to Alina's and then would travel with us until we reach the Fold. Every morning she would change my face. Then she would return to the palace and continue changing the face of the said Grisha, so no one would be any wiser that I would be gone. We would onboard the Volkovny and travel to the Bone Sea to find Rusalye, where I would kill him and claim him as an amplifier. Sturmhond and his crew would of course be handsomely paid. Overall, it was not a bad plan.

Once all was finished, Aleksander ushered everyone out of his office, and we were left alone once again.

"You will not go," the Darkling was seething with anger. If it was a cartoon, his face would be red and white smoke would come out of his ears.

"That is not up to you," I kept my smile hidden. No need to aggravate him further. "It is up to the King of this country whenever he will let me."

"Why are you trying so hard to get away from me?" he caught my wrists and pushed me to the wall. His hands were hidden in pair of leather gloves, so I was safe from his amplifying powers. That didn't mean he couldn't be intimidating.

"Why are you trying so hard to push us together?" I pressed back.

"Like calls to like. You cannot change your nature, Anja. And you cannot change your destiny. We are meant to change the world. Together," he whispered in my ear.

"That is where you are wrong, Shadow Summoner. I can and I will."

In a few short days, we left the palace. Nikolai and I sat on the same horse, and we went on ahead of the group. Nobody questioned their captain and even though Genya tried to protest, she was outvoted. The scent of grass and dirt after the morning rain. The freedom of riding amid the wind. It's been too long since I've been outside like this. It felt like I'm the one with nature again. I've missed this. But I had to wonder, why was he riding so fast? I haven't ridden a horse in a while, so this wasn't easy for me. A few weeks ago, I would have been embarrassed to hold onto him so boldly, but now I no longer cared. I absentmindedly noticed the goshawk, flying above our heads. Was it the same bird I rescued? I couldn't tell from the distance.

"Giddyup!"

The landscape began to change. The hills and trees replace the bare dirt. The wind picked up and blue clouds rolled from the east to darken the sky. The ground came to an end on a cliff that overlooked the river. In the gloomy light, the wide muddy river looked unappealing. It had a mix of color, something between brown and grey. There was a small village at one of the corners of it. When we finally stopped, Nikolai effortlessly slid off the saddle and I took his hand as he helped me down. The village was small. When I got off the horse I nearly collapsed to the ground.

The place looked gloomy even from the entrance to the village. The people there appeared unwell and dead inside as if they were in a daze, going through the motions. Steam seeped from the windows and many gardens were overflown with weeds. Two young girls knelt among the greenery filling their baskets with delicate purple flowers. Nikolai took the reins of our horse and tied him to a tree in the shade.

"It doesn't feel… like a lively village," I looked at my companion.

"It's been neglected, that's why. Be a darling and don't wander off too far," he looked back at me, then he disappeared to the nearby house.

I walked around, looking at the buildings falling apart. Not many people were bustling around. An older woman with lined skin and warm brown eyes emerged from a building as I approached it. She wore her greying hair in a simple bun and was smiling widely.

"Peace upon you stranger," she greeted me warmly.

"Good evening, madam," I answered.

"Would you like to accompany me to a sermon?" she asked. "I'm already late but the priest won't mind."

As I was unsure what to do with myself, so I agreed.

"He knows all our suffering! That is why he has good things in store to console us. Everyone, you can be joyful! Enjoy his blessings!" the priest proclaimed. He had a weird, fanatical glint in his eyes. "Do not suppress your God-given desires anymore! Gluttony is no longer a sin!"

The church was full of people. I looked up at him, surprised. Huh? This sermon sounded strange. I faintly remembered going to church with my father when I was little. Something felt just off.

"My lovely flock, God has bestowed a gift upon you to let you enjoy your lives!" he fished a small flask out of his pocket and poured it into the already prepared calix on the altar. "These are Sankta Alina's tears, they will set us free! A new God-given holy water will give us a taste of heaven by awakening our deeply hidden desires!"

An older couple staggered forward. The husband was holding his crying wife. I quickly recognized the old woman from the outside. I could faintly hear him whisper: "Just like last time, love. We can be with our bellowed child again…" the rest was too low to hear.

Another person rose up, this time a younger guy with a scar on his face. "Anna will fall in love with me, finally."

What was happening? I started to get up as well but someone behind me tapped my shoulder. Looking back, I could see a young girl pressing a finger to her mouth.

"Shh… You mustn't drink that lady."

The old lady from before drank from the cup and fell to the ground. "Ah! Lida! My baby!" she cried out and extended her arms. She rocked back and forth cuddling the empty air above her. The man was laughing hysterically and running around. The older man was screaming happily at the top of his lungs.