SECOND MEMORY - Embraced by the shadows

Alina's POV

A Fjerdan pulled me out of the carriage and dragged me into the forest. I did as much as I could to kick him, but it was useless. He gave me a punch in the face and pulled out an ax.

The environment began to feel cold and deafeningly quiet; I think it was the sensation of death approaching. My eyes began to close accepting fate, but the gallop of a horse brought me back. I saw the Darkling rising shadows beneath him. My captor looked up and spoke the dreaded name in his language; the next thing I registered was how half of his body fell next to me.

"Are you hurt?" he said as well as making sure there were no more enemies.

My mouth opened and said, "Not, not really."

"The others will have fled now they know I'm here," he said.

By all saints! I was vulnerable on the ground in front of the Darkling. Until that moment, I realized who he really was, why he was feared. I was scared to the bone, not of almost dying, but of him.

He extended his hand to me and ordered me to ride with him. In a second, we were on the horse. All the words left me, I was in shock. The Darkling used a hand to guide the animal, and the other put it on my stomach to hold me. This wasn't necessary because I could hold onto the hom. The cold that I once felt when he summoned the shadows disappeared and was replaced by the warmth of his chest against my back. He murmured in my ear, "This will be quick, miss Starkov." And I couldn't comprehend how being embraced by the shadows relaxed me.

The journey wasn't short, we had been riding for hours, and my tailbone was killing me. I asked him to stop and take a break. He first dismounted the horse and took my hand to help me, but I rejected it. With little grace, I stumbled on the grass until I could put my hands on my knees and let out a groan of relief. Oh fuck, it sounded a bit sexual. Fuck off appearances!

The only gesture I saw of him was a slight raise of his eyebrows, surely disapproving. It was the third time he extended his hand to me; he was giving me a black, silky handkerchief.

"For your face," he said.

I wasn't used to men paying attention to me, or being kind in any way. Even Mal treated me like one of his male friends. The actions of the Darkling, his perfect and neat air around him made me uneasy and, suspiciously, I took the offered handkerchief cleaning my face. How would he expect me to be clean and presentable if I was a member of the first army that had just been beaten and dragged to the ground? But when I touched my face, I felt pain and saw my attacker's blood and mine. So, maybe the Darkling didn't care about my looks but of my well-being?

"What happened back there?" I shouted at him while he was already preparing to resume our journey. He said something about the Fjerdans but not what I wanted to know and asked again.

"I meant how you sliced one of them in half from a dozen paces." It seemed my question amused him:

"Would you rather I'd used a sword?" he replied with a mock on his face.

It hurt my pride he made me feel stupid with my questions, but I genuinely wanted to know how his little science worked. I realized that my question didn't amuse him, but it was how I asked the question: in a demanding way.

"Sorry." I tried to remedy it.

"It's fine." He came to me as if he could read my thoughts and my real interest in his summoning. He then explained:

"There is matter to everything. Even air. Or shadow. Too small to see". He was already next to me. His dark eyes found mine like the first time I saw him in the tent. Penetrating, searching for something inside me.

"The cut is something a Summoner can do, but it requires tremendous skill. And I would only use it as a last resort. Like that ambush," he continued.

"Saints... Is this my life now? Hunted wherever I go." I berated him like it was his fault.

He first made a pause for his answer, as if trying to decide what would be the best to say: "You get used to it"

Has he ever felt hunted most of his life? Has he ever felt the way I do now? Scared, alone, and lost? That couldn't be possible, the man in front of me - because this particular answer and its implications made him so -, radiated power and indestructibility. I would later think of it. It was too much information.

"How do they even know about me?" I kept asking.

"Your little light show in the Fold was visible from miles away. Whatever their original mission was, they must have diverted to find you. That's why I'm traveling with you."

I was showing weakness and my voice reflected it. "They're scared of you?"

But his reply dumbfounded me:

"I think they're more scared of you"

"But, why?"

"What your power means to us. You may well be the first of your kind, but we've always had a name for you. For what we hope you can do."

Now he was invading my personal space keeping his explanation: "Enter the fold. Destroy it from within. With proper training, some amplification, you could be the..."

"No!" It wasn't me the one supposed to be the person he described.

When the Darkling spoke, his emotions were inscrutable, of this, I've been meticulously observing. But my denial moved something in him. Darkness surfaced in his eyes.

"Not, what?", although his voice was threatening, it was MY life that he was talking about. Not his, not my friends, not the Royal Corps.

"Why can't you get rid of it?" I reproached.

He put on his mask again, and calmly replied "Do you think I haven't tried, Miss Starkov? If I enter the Fold, I'm a beacon for the volcra. All I can do is make it worse."

"Then just... Can't you use some Grisha science to transfer this to someone who can use it?" I wasn't giving up my fight.

He said with disgust: "You would give up your gift?." I think I constantly triggered his emotions and vice-versa.

I puffed out my chest and raised my face as high as I could so as not to be intimidated. "Gift? You dragged me away from my only friends and now, according to you, I'll be a target for the rest of my life. You wanna know why you've never found someone with this power? Maybe it's because they don't want to be found."

But my enraged speech only accomplished the opposite. In a fraction of seconds, I could see his eyes reflected admiration, passion, wanton. As soon as they showed, as soon as they vanished.

"I'm not going to ask you again. Were you tested as a child?" he patiently waited for my answer.

"We were different enough already. Didn't want to be even more alone." I don't know how I said that to him. It was a private feeling of inferiority, of feeling misplaced all my life for being an orphan and half Shu. I accepted who I was but others didn't. My shell was opening for him without my consent.

Being too observant and methodical, once again, I counted the second time he invaded my personal space. I could feel his warm breath on my face as he spoke:

"You're Grisha. You are not alone." And in his words were promises of belonging. Scared, alone, and lost. He reflected those same emotions as I did before.

The Darkling, the Black General, General Kirigan. None of those names sounded human. If they weren't the names of a man but of a fearsome being, how could a monster have empathy for me? He asked me who I was, but I wanted to ask him right there who he was.

The habit of reaching out for my hand was becoming a routine. He helped me climb the horse.