"We're nearly there," he said gravely, peering out of the window. He nodded to one of the Heartrenders riding on our side, and the coach came to a stop.

"You'll have to excuse me now, Klara," he said, his tone serious. "Do not leave the coach unless you absolutely have to. And under no circumstances use your powers. It would only lead them to you," he commanded. "Am I being clear?" I nodded as the door opened, and three women in crimson keftas entered.

I didn't understand what was happening, and I felt a slight pang of frustration that he didn't share all details of the plan with me. But I knew better than to question him in a moment like this. With a nod, he stepped out and closed the black door behind him. I felt the coach shift as he climbed to the perch and took the reins.

"What's going on?" I asked the women surrounding me as the coach began moving again. They didn't seem eager to engage in conversation, but after an awkward pause, one of them finally spoke up. "Not all of them will recognize you. So we're here to act like your doubles and your bodyguards in one," she said, her tone tinged with bitterness, as if she considered the task beneath her. "Nobody will know you're not a Heartrender unless you decide to put on a little shadow show." I could hear the contempt in her voice.

What have I ever done to her?

I didn't want to talk with them anymore. It wasn't the best time for an argument, and I struggled to keep my fear in check. Memories of the few days I spent locked in the Druskelle base flooded my mind, making my fear all too real.

To my surprise, one of the women looked at me with compassion. "Don't be scared, it's just a precautionary measure. They probably won't even get this close to us," she reassured me. "We have a large Etherealki unit clearing the road for us, ensuring a safe passage. There are a dozen Heartrenders and soldiers protecting us, with more reinforcements close behind. And most importantly, we have the Darkling leading the way, blinding everyone with his shadows. They won't even know what hit them," she said with a wink. "My name is Oksana, by the way," she added, smiling reassuringly.

"Klara. Nice to meet you, and... thank you." I managed a shaky smile in return.

War cries echoed from outside, signalling the beginning of the battle, and the atmosphere inside the coach shifted. The three women exchanged concerned glances.

"That... is a lot of heartbeats," Oksana frowned.

I peered out of the small window at the front and saw the Darkling bringing his hands together. With a loud thunderclap, darkness flowed out from his palms. Long tendrils of shadow snaked through the crowd, seeking out Fjerdan warriors with unerring precision. Their first target were the eyes, plunging the men into disorienting darkness. They screamed, blinded and unable to escape, making it easy for Ravkan soldiers to pick them off one by one. But the shadows weren't finished. If an unfortunate warrior survived long enough, they slithered up his body, tightly twinning around, squeezing the breath out of him. It was a terrifying sight.

Amidst the cries of agony and the roar of battle, my gaze remained fixed on the Darkling. My shadows seemed so soft and gentle in comparison, like children's toys. The ones pouring off his hands were strong and sharp, almost gleaming. They were powerful and lethal.

"Isenulfs!" a young Inferni screamed, pointing at the approaching enemies. The witch hunters fired their weapons, hiding behind trees, while their huge wolves were unstoppably closing in. I gasped, my hand instinctively flying to my mouth, as I saw a massive white wolf hurtling towards the Darkling from the side. Without even sparing a glance, the Darkling's hand sliced through the air with casual indifference, and in an instant, the wolf crumpled to the ground, cut in two.

Suddenly, the coach came to an abrupt stop, causing me to lose my balance and fall.

"Are you okay?" I heard Oksana's voice just as the doors flung open. Strong arms grabbed hold of my feet, dragging me out. I tumbled to the ground, and the grip around my ankle loosened immediately as the three women followed behind me, their hands extended in front of them, faces contorted in concentration. The man who had grabbed me writhed in pain at their feet along with five other Fjerdans, clutching their hearts and spitting blood.

I quickly stood up, taking in the chaotic scene of the battle. Everything was happening so fast. The fight had only just begun, yet the ground was already littered with bodies, their faces illuminated by flames consuming the trees around them. The fiery Etheralki turned the forest into a blazing inferno. I shuddered in disgust as the air thickened with the scent of burning flesh.

I jumped back in fright as the black coach flew through the air before a young Squaller's outstretched hand and landed sideways on top of two Fjerdan warriors, trapping them. I noticed several Druskelle writhing on the ground, screaming in agony under concentrated looks of Darkling's Heartrenders. Shadows seeped on the ground, suffocating seemingly everybody else. The air crackled with the deafening sound of gunshots. Most of the bodies I saw were our enemies, but I noticed several dead Grisha, their throats torn open by the Fjerdan wolves. Nevertheless, the Darkling was right. Our odds were overwhelming and it was obvious that the fight would soon be over.

My attention snapped back to the overturned coach, its movement catching my eye. A bearded man had climbed on top of it and was reaching out to grab me. Instinctively, I ducked his grasp and pulled him off the coach, grabbing his legs. As he landed at my feet, I kicked the knife from his hand, sending it across the ground. With a single fluid motion, he rose and punched me in the face, leaving me momentarily disoriented. I felt the hot blood streaming down my face as I looked into his eyes.

His face...

My vision cleared with a sudden realisation, and a surge of determination washed over me. I managed to evade his punch and launched myself at him, landing on top of his chest as he tumbled to the ground. Fueled by fear and desperation, I started blindly punching his face. Instinctively, I summoned a cloud of darkness that wrapped around us, making us invisible to everyone... or almost everyone. My shadows poured out of me, coiling around the terrified man's body. They poured into his open mouth, obscuring his screams, wrapped tightly around his neck and slithered over his eyes, sealing them shut. I felt a splash of his blood land on my cheek, mixing with my own as I landed punch after punch. In the midst of my frenzy, I noticed another cloud of shadows swirling around me, forming a protective circle.

I was still throwing endless punches on the gurgling face below me as their master approached me.

"Klara," he said softly, appearing suddenly next to me. "I think that's quite enough." His voice sounded muffled, as if coming from a great distance, until his hand landed on my shoulder. "It is over, Klara. You can stop now." His voice snapped me out of my trance.

Dizzily, tears streaming down my face, I gazed up at him. His expression was serious, his unwavering focus solely upon me, while his shadows effortlessly carried on the fight with the struggling Fjerdans behind him. As the world started to come back to focus, I looked down at the suddenly silent man beneath me.

His features were barely recognizable. His nose was visibly broken, crooked and swollen, with blood pouring from his nostrils. Several teeth were missing and others shattered, leaving a jagged and bloody mess. His lips were swollen and split and his beard was soaked in blood. Tremors shook my body as the Darkling's hands reached under my arms, helping me to my feet. As I looked around, I realised the battle was already over. The Fjerdans had retreated, leaving the lifeless corpses of their fellow fighters behind.

…

I stared blankly ahead, tears still streaming down my face, as an unfamiliar healer tended to my injured nose and bleeding knuckles. The voices around me seemed distant and distorted, as if coming from a different world.

I didn't resist as someone lifted me up and carried me away. People moved around me, their voices filled with urgency. My name echoed in the air, repeated several times. Then I found myself gently placed in the saddle of a horse, a firm presence settling in behind me, their strong hands ensuring my stability. The horse set off, and the world around me became a hazy blur. Even my thoughts were shrouded in a thick fog.

"You should rest," the person behind me murmured, their warm breath brushing against my ear. It was unmistakably the Darkling. I tried to respond, but only a muffled sound escaped my lips. I noticed him removing one of his gloves as we rode, and then his hand slipped beneath the collar of my kefta, resting on the nape of my neck. Sleep overcame me almost instantly, not giving me a chance to fully appreciate the warm feeling of security his touch evoked within me.

…

"We are in Kyrsk," his voice broke through the haze as I slowly regained consciousness. Opening my eyes, the fog dissipated, and clarity returned to my mind. I shook my head to shake off any lingering drowsiness and looked around. I could sense the Darkling's arm tightening around me as his warm breath brushed against my ear. "Careful," he said, "you might still feel dizzy."

Dizziness still lingered, but it was no longer due to my previous disorientation. I was suddenly acutely aware of his closeness, his body pressed tightly against mine, moving in synchrony with the rhythmic strides of the horse, as we galloped through the busy city.

Get. Yourself. Together.

We arrived at the entrance of a grand hotel, adorned with a gilded inscription that read Sankta Anastasia. With graceful ease, the Darkling dismounted the horse, took me around the waist and effortlessly lifted me off the saddle as if I were as light as a feather. I stood beside him, his hands lingering on my waist.

"Are you steady on your feet?" he inquired, making sure before releasing me. I nodded quickly, eager to be free from his touch and the things it made me feel.

A simple snap of his fingers summoned three servants, who took charge of me. I watched as the Darkling walked away, leaving me in their care as they led me into the hotel.

…

I spent the next two hours feeling like royalty as they escorted me to a luxurious room adorned with deep blue curtains and a grand canopied bed. I couldn't help but wonder why such opulence existed in a small and unimportant city like Kyrsk.

After devouring the meal that was brought to my room, the healer from before - Svetlana, paid me another brisk visit and then I took a long bath. I sat in the hot water infused with lavender and ferociously scrubbed the blood off my skin, until it was all red and sore. Yet, I still didn't feel clean.

Getting out of the tub, I collapsed onto the bed, soaking the soft blue bedspread. That's when the tears came, and they wouldn't stop. Images of the bearded man's face, the desperate sounds he made in his final moments, and the haunting look in his eyes replayed in my mind. I didn't feel sorry for him, nor did I regret his death, but I still couldn't stop the tears as memories of three other faces from my past resurfaced, intensifying my grief.

As I wiped my tears and composed myself, I was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Come in," I called out, hastily wrapping myself in a towel. A young servant entered the room.

"The Darkling has requested your presence, miss," she said. I glanced out the window, noticing the pitch-black darkness.

"Now?" I questioned, confused.

"He mentioned there's no rush and that you can take your time," she replied, though her nod suggested otherwise.

"Can I have a moment then?"

She stood by the door, her impatience evident.

"He has requested your presence, miss."

"But... he said to take my time..."

"We don't keep the Dark General waiting," she stated matter-of-factly.

I groaned. It seemed there was no escaping it. I looked around, searching for my kefta, and when I couldn't find it, I met the servant's gaze.

"Your clothes are being cleaned, miss, but we've provided an alternative," she gestured towards a white nightdress and a pink silk dressing gown neatly laid out on the bed.

"Absolutely not," I declared. "I don't do dresses and I certainly won't wear anything in that colour." She gave me a disapproving stare as I continued. "I guarantee you that if you get me something, anything in a dark colour and without a skirt, I will make this a lot easier for you. And the Dark General," my voice dripped with sarcasm, "will be granted my presence much sooner." I crossed my arms over my chest as I watched her walk away dissatisfied. It was a small win, but it still lifted my spirits. At least I could decide on this one small thing.

After quickly washing my face and running my hand through my messy short hair, I focused on getting myself together. It wasn't about looking pretty for him; I simply didn't want him to know that I had cried.

She returned with a black men's pyjama set and a black dressing gown, disdain clear on her face, her lips pressed into a thin line. The pyjamas were way too big for me, but I rolled up the sleeves and trouser legs and gave her my sweetest smile.

"Perfect," I said, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

I got nervous as we stepped out into the hallway. The pyjamas hung awkwardly on me, and the first button was a lot lower than I would have liked, revealing more of my chest than I was comfortable with. But I still felt much better than I would have in that dreadful white nightie. I nervously closed my dressing gown, following her through the corridor.

She stopped at the door adjacent to mine and knocked. "Enter," came the Darkling's voice, and the servant opened the door for me. The room was spacious and adorned in black. Dark wood lined the walls, and a cracking fire illuminated the space with a warm glow. I noticed a big carving of the eclipse above the fireplace - the Darkling's symbol.