My name was the first giveaway.
Anastasia.
Too long, too many syllables.
Nothing was quite my own; not my body, my history, my position in the First Army, and certainly not the sunlight that coursed beneath my skin.
I was an unwilling thief to a girl who would never realize what she was meant to do, an orphan who always spared a smile for her fellow cartographer. It was because of, and despite, my unfair knowledge of her future - now impossible - that I didn't smile back.
Well, most days. Even without her title as a Sun Summoner, Alina fit the bill in every other way possible.
Sweet as she was smart, it made perfect sense why she would - should - be the real Santka.
With any luck, no one would know of any Sankta Anastasia, or the name I actually went by, Sankta Poppy. I was nobody, especially not a Grisha in hiding. It was dangerous on the best of days, even without the Darkling's search for the Sun Summoner.
However, my luck - of lack thereof - seemed to be the only thing to cross over to this...once fictional...world with me.
Memories of another life slipped away in exchange for new abilities, a new face and friends. I mourned for the first few months, but thankfully, went mostly unnoticed. Young orphans crying in their beds wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence.
It'd taken me almost a year to realize who Alina was; she was small, petite, and pale...not to mention several years younger.
Her and the tiny, curly-haired Mal scampered from hall to hall, hiding from Ana Kuya wherever they could. On the days I studied alone, which were surprisingly often, I would silently gesture towards forgotten cabinets or empty corners. It hurt to see how adorable, how unknowingly naïve they were. Five years wasn't much of a difference, not really, but the weight of the future was heavier than time.
Now, I stood quietly by a break in the massive tent, peering into the gap to where Alina Starkov and the Darkling stood.
As much as I tried to convince her otherwise, the stubborn girl still managed to sneak our crew onboard the skiff traveling across the Fold. I hadn't been prepared for how much I would feel for our little team, even with my best attempts to be unlikable. Maybe loss isn't something you can prepare yourself for, but I'd be damned to not at least try.
While I couldn't make out what exactly they were saying, I didn't need to. The Darkling's cape swirled behind him like one of his shadows as he turned, likely to get his little talon-ring. I scrunched my nose at the thought; sharp objects didn't sit well with me, not after accidentally impaling my arm on a particularly pointy caliper. Mercifully, no one had been around to observe the light spilling from the broken skin. By the time Ana Kuya had come around, I had bandaged the minor wound with a clean shred of my shirt. I never brought it up afterwards, and she never asked.
Warmth radiated beneath my fingertips, eager. The more I used my ability, I was learning, the more quickly it seemed to respond to my call. Perhaps it was for the best that this would be the last time.
The Fold was worse than I could've ever imagined.
Even with the foreknowledge of volcra, the giant creatures were both heartbreaking and terrifying. Fast as they were massive, they dipped in and out of the shadows with ease, plucking up my screaming companions until the dark swallowed them whole. I had barely noticed when Alina started calling Mal's name, only when a wiry volcra latched onto her. Heart pounding a violent rhythm in my ears, I thrust my hand out, projecting the fiery light around Alina as much as I could. From there, I let it explode with my panic, forming a dome around the pair and expanding outwards. Something sharp pulled at my braid, sending me flying backwards. The last thing I remembered was the flickering light, and Alina Starkov falling down into Mal's waiting arms.
Inside the tent, the Darkling was gripping Alina's arm, eyes locked.
Shaking off the shadows, I leaned forwards, allowing the light to rise past my skin. It swirled around my hands, soft and comforting, though I knew it could easily burn if I allowed it. The beating within my chest returned, whether it was from the memories or my ballsy attempt at making Alina appear to be the Sun Summoner. Ridiculous it may seem, I didn't have any other choice.
The Darkling could not be allowed to have access to that power... my power.
The guilt for framing poor Alina settled, as it always did, like a barbed snake in my gut, but there was no place for it here. I could save the regret for later.
As the Darkling's taloned finger dragged down her arm, I projected a straight beam from the area, shooting up and through the thin material of the tent. Leaning closer, I tried to see how close it was, tried to encourage the light to wrap around the wound - and her arm - as it had inside the Fold. Heat ran beneath my skin, across my hands and arms and face and neck, like an old friend. Gasps filled the tent, murmurs of shock and praise. The Darkling and Alina didn't move, only watching the light seemingly pour from her. I smiled, alone.
So far, so good.
As the light faded, I dropped my hands, tucking them beneath my cloak. With all the Grisha and First Army in the area, I would need to be as far away from this tent as possible. I stepped back, only to run into something firm and unforgiving.
Saints.
The rich, red-stained fabric of the man's kefta told me all I needed to know. My heart retreated into my stomach, leaving only calloused fingers curled around my bicep. The Heartrender dragged me away from the flap in the tent.
"What're you doing out here, girl?" His tone alone made me want to retort, but I bit down on my tongue. Dropping my gaze so he wouldn't see my face, I focused on my own panic, allowing it to cut against my response.
"I'm sorry, I, I just wanted to see the Sun Summoner. I saw the light, and, well…" Peering up slowly, I tried to look the part.
Nothing I said was technically a lie; I had wanted to watch the proceedings, though for a very different reason. Still, the man's silence was unnerving.
"I won't do it again, I promise. I was just curious, that's all." I tried to hold my hands up, even with his unrelenting grip, "Please don't tell the Sergeant." The Heartrender glanced towards the tent, then back to me.
With a sigh, he let go, shoving me backwards. As I caught my balance, the man's posture relaxed, arms crossing.
"Get back to work, girl, and I won't."
Gritting my teeth together, I nodded again, bowing my head down briefly in his direction. Before I could wonder if the gesture was overkill, the dark-eyed Heartrender had turned, moving towards the tent where the Darkling and Alina were. I studied the entrance for a moment, unease coiling around my intestines.
Why hadn't they moved her, yet?
As soon as the test was complete, the Darkling should've ordered her to the nearest carriage for the Little Palace. Had I missed it, somehow?
A shout came from behind, eliciting attention from those who lingered around the tent. Malyen Oretsev was looking worse for wear, limping badly across the field and desperately calling for Alina. Someone grabbed his arm, trying to restrain him. The barbed guilt joined the cacophony of unease, pricking unwanted moisture behind my eyes. Tearing my gaze away, I moved as quietly as possible to the cartographer's tent.
If everything went according to plan, nobody would be hurt. All I had to do now...was wait.