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.
The muted murmurs of voices drifted from outside, and the occasional clang of metal on metal punctuated the quiet. My body ached, heavy and sluggish, but I forced myself to sit up, clutching the blanket as though it might steady me.
That's when it hit me—I'd made it. I was at the Second Army's camp. Relief surged through me, though it was quickly followed by a wave of anxiety. I couldn't let myself falter now.
"I need to see General Kirigan," I managed to croak, my voice barely audible.
A quiet fell over the room, and the people in it fanned out around me. I blinked. They were all high-ranking members of the army.
"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. He was taller than I'd imagined, much younger than I imagine and... stikingly beautiful. His presence filled the room effortlessly and his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through me. He didn't just command the room—he owned it.
"It's you," I breathed, unable to keep the awe from my voice. I sat up straighter, ignoring the ache in my body, and tried to compose myself. I wouldn't let him see how frightened I was.
"And you are?" The Darkling raised a single brow, his tone calm but distant.
"My name is Klara Solberg... sir," I managed, my voice steadier this time.
"I was discovered as a Grisha and was no longer safe at home in Fjerda."
"Is that so?" he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't sound very Fjerdan to me." His voice was low, smooth, but there was a hint of steel beneath it. "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."
The Darkling studied me for a long moment, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "What kind of Grisha are you?"
My heart sank. This wasn't how I'd imagined our meeting. I naively hoped I'd have a quiet moment to explain myself, not face a room full of scrutinizing eyes 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 hesitated, biting my lip. "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 stomach twisted painfully. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. You stupid, stupid girl. Why would they ever believe you? My hands clenched the blanket like it was a lifeline. 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. My chest tightened as I forced myself to continue. "I haven't been able to use my powers since I escaped. I tried, but…" My voice broke, and I drew in a shaky breath. "It feels like they're gone."
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 must think that 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.
"I swear it's true! They tied me up so I couldn't use my powers. They were going to kill me, and then…" My voice faltered as the memory surged forward, raw and vivid. "The shadows—they just… erupted out of me. I couldn't control them. It killed most of them, but afterward…" My voice cracked. "It felt like they drained out of me completely." 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."
"Quiet."
The single word wasn't loud, but it silenced the room instantly. The Darkling's patience was thinning—I could see it in the hard set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes.
He stepped forward, his boots making no sound against the floor. His movements were slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in. I fought the instinct to back away from him. He extended his hand toward me.
"Show me," he said.
I hesitated, not understanding what he meant. Tentatively, I reached out, my hand trembling as it hovered over his. When he grasped my wrist, my fear disappeared. 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. The tension in my chest loosened as a single thought took hold: My powers are still there. They won't send me back. I am safe.
But the moment his grip on my wrist released, that fragile certainty slipped away. The sense of calm he'd pulled from me was gone, replaced by exhaustion so overwhelming that my knees buckled. Darkling swiftly reacted and caught me against his body with one arm.
"Take her," he instructed, handing me over to a man in a crimson kefta who took me, gripping my arms just tightly enough to steady me.
"Get her to my coach. I want her in the Little Palace as soon as—" The Darkling's voice faltered, the sentence unfinished.
The room, which had been bustling with quiet whispers seemed to still as everyone turned their eyes to him. His gaze was locked on his own hand, now stained with blood. Slowly, his eyes lifted to me, their intensity making my stomach clench. I suddenly became acutely aware of how I must look.
Tired, filthy, and bloodied. I wore a stolen Drüskelle uniform that hung awkwardly on my frame, its tattered fabric streaked with mud and grime. The oversized sleeves bunched under my arms, and my wrist—still warm from his touch—was raw and bruised where ropes had cut into my skin.
His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Were you tortured?"
I shuddered at the memories that flooded back. My throat tightened, but I forced the words out.
"Yes," I said, my voice low but steady. "Druskelle caught me just as I was crossing the border." The Grisha around us inhaled sharply, a ripple of shock spreading through the room. Someone murmured a curse under their breath.
"When they discovered I was a shadow summoner, they believed I was sent by you. They thought I was part of a Grisha resistance group." My voice steadied as I spoke, the act of recounting the facts grounding me. "They wanted information—plans, names, anything they thought I could give them. But when I wouldn't talk…" I trailed off, swallowing hard.
His jaw tightened, a flicker of anger crossing his face. Without uttering another word, the General issued the same command again,
"Show me."
My pulse quickened, and I instinctively glanced around the room. The crowd of soldiers and Grisha stared back at me, their expressions a mix of curiosity, horror, and doubt.
Darkling's dark eyes followed my gaze, and he seemed to understand my hesitation immediately. With a single gesture, he dismissed them all.
"Out," he said, his voice as sharp as a whip crack. "Except you two."
The onlookers didn't dare to linger and the tent cleared out quickly. Only two Healers stayed behind, their faces pale and uncertain as they approached me.
His eyes remained fixed on me with expectation, the unspoken command hanging in the air.
With trembling fingers, I reached for the edges of the tattered uniform. The fabric rasped against my skin as I removed it, 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 and a warm, tingling sensation spread through me.
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 measured voice breaking the heavy silence. "How did you escape?"
I took a deep breath, steadying myself before responding.
"After what happened with my powers… a lot of them died. At least, I think they did." My voice wavered slightly, but I pressed on. "They were thrown against the walls, just… motionless. I was still bound, but I managed to find a knife and free myself." I sighed in relief as the pain I learned to ignore in the last weeks slowly faded under the skilled hands of his Healers. "I stole a horse and the uniform," I continued, my voice steadier now. "But the others—they noticed. They followed me the whole way here. They might still be nearby."
The Darkling's frown deepened as he processed the information. "Where did they hold you?"
"They have a secret base here, not far away from the Fjerdan border."
Surprise flashed across the Darkling's face "In Ravka?" He frowned.
I nodded. "It's hidden in a cave system within the forest, close to the edge of the Shadow Fold."
"Would you find your way back?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, the intensity in his voice unmistakable.
The very thought of returning made my stomach churn, but I forced myself to nod. "I could," I said. "If that's what you need, I can lead you there. We can leave immediately if—"
The corner of his mouth twitched, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across his face. He said nothing, but the expression told me he wasn't convinced by my attempted bravery.
The Healers finished their work and bowed deeply. "Moi soverenyi," they murmured in unison before filing out of the tent.
Suddenly, it was just the two of us. Though I was glad to escape the prying eyes, his presence alone was far more intimidating than the entire Second army. I shifted uneasily, hyper-aware of how close he stood.
His dark eyes flicked over me as if to make sure the healers had done their job well. Within seconds, he undid the buttons of his kefta and draped it over my naked shoulders.
"Show me the base on the map." He commanded.
I focused, forcing myself to remember the path I'd taken. My finger trembled slightly as I traced a route on the map spread across the table.
"It's situated within the forests near the border," I began, my voice steady. "To reach it, you should follow the path to Halmhend and head west for approximately 15 miles before reaching the border. It's quite close to the edge of the shadow fold…" I continued, trying to remember some significant landmark. "There is a peculiar rock formation, somewhere around here," I said, gesturing to a spot on the map. The Darkling moved closer to me, leaning over my shoulder.
The Darkling leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine as he examined the map. His proximity made it difficult to concentrate, his presence both intimidating and strangely intoxicating.
"I know the place," he said. "But there is nothing there."
"I know the place," he said finally. "But there's nothing there."
"It's underground," I explained. "The entrance is hidden in the rocks, and the tunnels twist and turn like a maze. If you don't know the layout, you'll get lost."
"How many entrances?"
"At least two," I said, though I could hear the uncertainty in my own voice.
The Darkling's gaze flicked to me, sharp and penetrating. He didn't move back, his face close enough that I could feel the faint warmth of his breath.
"Thank you," he said finally, his voice soft but firm. "You've been very helpful, Miss Solberg."
The adrenaline that had kept me alert was fading, and exhaustion weighed heavily on my eyelids.
"I believe it is now time for you to get some sleep," the Darkling said, his tone measured and calm. "If I remember correctly, you've been suffering from severe sleep deprivation. My Heartrenders had to put you under just to give you a chance to rest. The few hours you've had will hardly suffice," he added, his voice low and even. "We can move you tomorrow."
"They did what?" I asked, my voice shaky as I took an instinctive step back. My legs weren't steady, but I didn't care. "Why?"
He seemed unbothered by my retreat. "It was a precautionary measure," he replied simply, his calmness almost disarming. "It isn't every day that a Fjerdan storms into my camp demanding to see me."
I felt my mouth dry up.
"When you arrived," he continued, "you were so depleted that your words were barely coherent. When was the last time you slept or ate?"
I tried to think, but the days before my arrival blurred together into a haze of pain and fear. "I don't know," I admitted truthfully, my voice small. "It's been at least three days. Maybe more. But I promise, if you think I fabricated the existence of the base, that I'm delirious—"
He raised a hand, interrupting me before I could finish. "I believe you," he said firmly.
He turned slightly, gesturing with a sharp snap of his fingers. A servant appeared almost instantly.
"Please attend to Miss Solberg's needs and ensure she is well-guarded at all times. And bring me my kefta back." The servant bowed and quickly set to work, but the Darkling turned his attention back to me. His expression softened slightly, though his tone remained steady. "Rest and regain your strength. We still have much to discuss once you awaken."
He stepped back toward his desk, but before I could leave, he spoke again, his words cutting through the air like a blade.
"And, Klara," he said, his voice dropping just slightly, "you are safe here."