I blinked my eyes open, the world gradually coming into focus. I was in a tent. The interior was black, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. I was lying on a sofa, a thick blanket draped over me. Through my still quite hazy vision, I saw outlines of people moving around me, their forms indistinct in the dim light. I struggled to sit up, my body heavy and sore, when the realisation hit me — I had made it to the camp of the second army.

"I need to see General Kirigan," I managed to croak, my voice barely audible.

"Then you are in luck," a deep voice spoke, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned my head slowly, and there he stood, The Darkling. The only known shadow summoner, the feared leader of the second army, the refuge for all Grisha. I knew it had to be him, his presence alone commanded attention, but I still struggled to believe it. He looked so… young.

"It's you," I said as our eyes met. Despite my body protesting the movement, I straightened my posture and tried to compose myself the best I could. I didn't want him to see I was frightened.

"And you are?" The Darkling raised an eyebrow, his voice calm and distant.

"My name is Klara Solberg… sir," I began, forcefully steadying my voice. "I was discovered as a Grisha and was no longer safe at home in Fjerda."

"Is that so? You don't sound very Fjerdan to me." The Darkling's voice was low and smooth. "And what makes you believe you would be safe here?"

"I came to you because I heard that every Grisha can find their place with the second army. And I am a Grisha. And…I…" I stammered, "I had nowhere else to go."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "What kind of Grisha are you?"

I hesitated. This wasn't how I imagined meeting the Darkling. I naively hoped I'd be alone with him rather than surrounded by high-ranking members of the army, watching my every move. I didn't want to draw that much attention to myself, but lying to the Darkling was not an option.

"I...I'm a shadow summoner," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

The soldiers and Grisha in the tent exchanged glances, their faces twisted with mocking amusement. The murmurs of disbelief transformed into quiet laughter, filling the room.

The Darkling's expression remained inscrutable, his eyes locked on mine. The laughter faded as he raised a hand, commanding the attention of everyone present.

"Enough," he declared with a sharp voice. The room quieted instantly, the weight of his authority suffusing the air. He turned his attention back to me, his gaze unyielding.

"Prove it," he said finally. "Demonstrate your power."

My heart pounded in my chest as panic gripped me. I didn't expect to be put on the spot like this. You stupid, stupid girl. Why would they ever believe you?

The truth was I couldn't prove my words. Ever since my escape, I wasn't able to use my powers, no matter how hard I tried. But who's going to believe that?

"I can't," I admitted, defeat in my voice. "I haven't been able to use my powers since I escaped my captors. I tried, but it feels like…like they were gone," my voice trembling under the weight of my words. What if they truly were gone? I couldn't return to Fjerda, and it seemed there was no place for me anywhere else. A shadow summoner who suddenly lost her powers before she had a chance to prove them, seeking refuge in Ravkan's war camp. Everybody would think I'm a spy.

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, scepticism etched on the faces of Grisha and soldiers alike. "How convenient!" someone scoffed.

"I swear it's true!" I felt my voice trembling. I knew how it looked, how it sounded, but I couldn't help it.

"They tied me up so I couldn't use my powers, and as they prepared to kill me, I…The shadows… they somehow… erupted out of me. They poured out of me in all directions, and I didn't have any control over them. It killed most of the men, but in the end, I felt like they completely drained out of me… like… like I had none left." I was sobbing at this point.

As I escaped the Druskelle, the only thought in my mind was to get to the Darkling. He would understand. He would help me. He helps Grisha. My hopes crumbled as sounds of mockery and disbelief from the crowd grew louder and louder.

"There was always only one Darkling," someone sneered.

"This is ridiculous."

"Are Fjerdans really that stupid?"

"She's obviously a spy."

"Let's just send her back where she belongs."

"Please, no..." I whimpered. "I'm not a spy, I swear..." My voice got lost amidst the noise.

"Quiet." The Darkling barely seemed to raise his voice, but the command sliced through the crowd like a knife, and the room fell completely silent. His eyes bore into me, his patience thinning. With measured steps, he closed the distance between us, his every movement deliberate. I fought the instinct to back away from him.

Without breaking eye contact he extended his hand towards me. "Show me," he said. I didn't understand what he was asking, but I didn't want to anger him. Hesitantly, I reached out, my hand trembling as he took hold of my wrist.

Suddenly, my fear receded. His touch filled me with warmth and a sense of calm. But there was something else… It felt as though he was calling forth something inside me, and I felt an irresistible urge to respond. I dared to meet his gaze, my eyes locked on his. He frowned slightly and reached out to hold my other hand as well.

"Come on," he whispered softly. "Come to me."

He wasn't talking to me. I held his gaze, almost hypnotised, as the feeling overwhelmed me and just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, the room seemed to darken. A barely audible sigh of relief escaped my lips as inky tendrils of darkness surrounded me, swirling around us in a mesmerising dance.

Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd of onlookers, but all I could see was the slight curve of a smile on the Darkling's face. He believed me. A wave of relief washed over me. My powers are still there, they won't send me back, I am safe. As he released his grip, the calm certainty within me vanished. My legs buckled, and the Darkling caught me against his body with one arm.

"Take her," he instructed, handing me over to a man in a crimson kefta like a sack of potatoes. "Get her to my coach. I want her in the Little Palace as soon as..." The Darkling fell silent, staring at the bloodstained palm of his hand. He slowly turned back and ran his eyes over me, his gaze intense and penetrating. I suddenly became acutely aware of how I must look.

Tired, bloodied, and dirty, dressed in a stolen Druskelle uniform, the fabric tattered and torn, the oversized sleeves billowed awkwardly under my arms. His eyes lingered on my hand — a tear in the fabric revealed my wrist, still warm from his touch, raw and stained with blood, marked by the bruises left by tightly bound ropes.

"Were you tortured?"

I shuddered at the memories that flooded back. "Yes," I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. "The Druskelle... they caught me." The Darkling's gaze remained fixed on me, his eyes narrowing, and the Grisha in the room gasped in horror.

"When they discovered I was a shadow summoner, they believed I was sent by you. They thought I was a leader of some Grisha resistance group and hoped to extract information about our plans and other members," I explained, composing myself.

Without uttering another word, the General issued the same command again,

"Show me."

My heart raced at the thought of revealing my wounds to the crowd of people assembled in the tent. I looked around nervously, and the Darkling, ever perceptive, immediately understood. In a single gesture, he dismissed everyone except for two Healers, who carefully approached me.

His eyes remained fixed on me with expectation, the unspoken command hanging in the air. I mustered courage to remove the uniform. The fabric fell away, exposing my battered body covered in bruises, cuts, burns, and whip wounds that crisscrossed my skin. The gasps from the Healers were audible, their eyes widening in horror as they immediately began tending to my injuries.

The weight of the Darkling's stare bore down on me as I tried to hold my head high despite the shame I felt, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. His gaze flickered momentarily, and he swiftly made his way to the entrance of the tent, summoning three more Healers, their arrival hastened by the urgency in his voice. With a silent nod from the Darkling, they sprang into action. The pain I learned to ignore in the last weeks slowly faded under their hands.

As the Healers tended to my wounds, the Darkling paced back and forth, his anger palpable in the air. Finally, he turned his attention back to me and spoke, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "How did you escape?"

...I slightly changed this chapter and added some etra info – for anyone who came back wondering how does Kirigan know about her parents 😊 ...