Sun Queen

♛ Sixty ♛

♛ Alina POV ♛

The first thing I notice about the camp was absolute, overwhelming look of hundreds of hearts giving up on living. Every face I passed on my way to the 'preparation room' was sagging and low. Their eyes looked like corpse eyes, blank and and unmoving.

There were close to two hundred Grisha as far as I could tell, crammed into the T shaped building. The camp was buried between pointed three mountains, surrounded by hills upon hills of snow. A never ending blizzard beats against the thin window panes, sounds of rattling and shaking echo down the hall. I didn't see much from the ride over here. I was kept in an iron box on the back of a wagon, with only a slit near the top of the wall as a window.

The second thing I noticed was orange. Although the building was made of pure concrete with a few thickly barred windows, orange bloomed amongst the gray. Orange was buried under each Grisha fingernail, it shined under their waxy skin, orange stained the thinly stitched shirts and pants they wore, orange was the cause of the nightmares they wore around their necks.

Jurda parem was orange.

Three guards flanked either side of me. The two closet to me held chains attached to my shackles, to help pull my hands away from each other. My hands themselves were trapped in one of Fjerda's inventions against Grisha, a long wooden bar with two holes on either end to hold a Grisha's hands apart.

We had entered at the bottom of the T building, through dozens of gun-heavy guards and doors covered in steel bars. The entire camp is swarming with them. Fjerdan security is as good as the stories.

When we reach the top of the T with the two branching hallways, the silent guards push me down the one to the left. There are a few 'rooms' along the walls. Although the rooms here do not bear the iron bars of a cell, their padded and locked doors are prison-like enough.

At the end of the hallway there's a set of two swinging doors. The guards break at this point, only the closet two stay with me as we walk through to what I'm told is the 'preparation room.'

It's exactly what I expected, just like the rest of the camp, the rumors are true. About a dozen metal tables with restraints are lined up against the far wall. To my left and right are tables filled with ink covered papers and folders, hunched men and women scribbling notes under dim lamplights. They all wear long white coats under their Fjerdan furs, the white cloth peeking out near their ankles. There are guards within every three feet, watching me with twisted, shiny, black guns in their hands. I can tell by the muffled sounds that the concrete walls in here are thicker. I hate to think why.

One of the guards signals to a man with a crooked back and he hobbles over, a snarl hanging over his lip.

"Is this the Sun Summoner?" He asks, morbid excitement waving through his voice.

"Yes." I answer for myself, lifting my chin with dully faked courage.

The man's eye widen so far his eyes almost pop and I can see the strings of red in his eyes. He smiles with all his teeth. "Excellent, I'm Dr. Semenov. Head of our department. We're happy to have you here."

I don't doubt.

"Please, follow me." His eyes suck back into their sockets a little as he feigns pleasantries.

Still shaken by his bugged eyes, I walk towards the far wall, fear snaking into my gut when we approach the metal tables. There's a small snap as the wooden bar is removed from my wrists and I can hear all the guards click off the safety on their guns.

I shiver. Already I've been stripped of my kefta and like the other Grisha. I wear the same thin shirt and pants, my longing eyes staring at the heavily fur coated doctors. With a blizzard howling quietly behind the concrete, I feel as if I'm encased in ice.