Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Forty-two: Nikolai Lantsov, Past

Forty-two:

Nikolai Lantsov, past

The Fold worsened.

The Darkling was gone, Alina was gone in name, and The Folds darkness only grew. "What do you mean it's gotten larger?" Nikolai demanded of the two grisha scouts that had come back to report their findings.

"Exactly that," they said, "it's even taking up more of West Ravka from the reports. And the peasants well...."

"Well, what?" Nikolai said.

"They say it cries."

Nikolai shook his head. "It's a great, big giant shadow. Shadows don't cry."

The two soldiers glanced at each other. One of them, a blond girl with a lovely face, stepped forward hesitantly with a nod of encouragement from her brother. "Your majesty, I don't mean to contradict you, but I heard it. It sounds.... heartbroken."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain what you didn't hear were the cries of the Volcra?"

Her brother stepped forward. "With all due respect, your highness, we've heard those cries. We know those cries. This time it was different."

He glanced at the girl. "How so?"

"It's in anguish. When it cried it was as if I could feel it's pain. And sir, I think I came up with an idea of how to defeat it."

Nikolai crossed his arms. "Well? I'm waiting."

"The Fold was a product of The Darkling's power. He was trying to save Ravka when it was created, wasn't he? Well, grisha power manifests from intense pain. I believe that when The Darkling failed, it broke him, leaving an intense rip in his powers. That's how The Fold manifested. It was his powers having an intense reaction to the grief that he was going through."

Nikolai's brow furrowed. "That.... does not seem as crazy as it sounds."

The girl beamed.

"Alright, so The Fold is a manifestation of The Darkling's grief. How do we get rid of it?"

"Tell him, Alyona," her brother, Rurik, encouraged.

Alyona took a great breath. "When The Sun Summoner lived, The Fold seemed to react to her powers. Everyone assumed it was only because of the light that The Sun Summoner had. But The Darkling was different with her, too. The problem was all he could see was her power."

"We know the story," said Nikolai, "young girl with immense power dies because of the mistakes of a cruel, immortal being."

Alyona shook her head. "That's not the story, though."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "It isn't? Enlighten me. Because I was part of it. Were you?"

"They were in love," said Alyona, "but The Darkling didn't understand that was where their strength came from. He understood how to use power, not how to elevate it. The Fold is The Darkling's heart, and to get rid of it, The Fold needs Alina."

Nikolai frowned. "There's just one problem, soldier. The Darkling is dead as is Alina Starkov."

Alyona smirked. "Sir, I think we both know only one part of that story is true."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying?"

"It's only, you were in love with Alina too. Engaged, according to the rumors. I've seen someone after their love dies. They're distraught, miserable, unable to get out of bed. You learn the sound of heartbreak when you're a soldier watching people's loved ones die. So, either you didn't love Alina Starkov, which according to people who saw you kissing in villages along the way is impossible, you are heartless bastard, or Alina Starkov isn't really dead."

Nikolai frowned. "I'm sorry to disappoint, soldier. I'm a heartless bastard. There are things you have to do as a Prince to gain power. Including marry saints. Now, if you excuse me, I have a meeting to discuss battle plans that don't include fairytales and folklore."

"But!" Alyona insisted.

"Your dismissed," he said darkly, and then he went into the war rooms where his inner circle was waiting for him.

"You look pleased," said Zoya from where she sat at her seat next to his, "either you've tumbled another wench or the scouts came back with an idea on how to destroy the Fold."

Nikolai smirked. "You are, my dearest general, the only wench I should wish to tumble. Though you keep on giving me some nonsense about propriety, and it is breaking my heart a bit you know."

Zoya glowered at him, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. "Brat," she murmured.

"Careful, Zoya. You're beginning to sound a lot like Baghra. Now, who wants to help me fix a broken heart?"

"Nikolai," Zoya seethed, "I will summon----"

He smirked. "Dearest general, did I ever say that it was mine?"

Zoya's eyes narrowed. "Then who----"

"The Folds," he answered.

From her seat not far from Zoya, Genya Safin turned her eyes on him, "I'm sorry. Did you just say The Folds?"

"Yes, Genya. The Folds. We've a broken heart that needs fixing."

"Whose?" Zoya asked.

"The Darklings," he said, "it seems that's what The Fold is. A manifestation of The Darkling's pain. And there is only one person who can fix it."

Zoya heaved a sigh, pressing her fingers to the temples in her forehead as if she had suddenly developed a headache. "Please don't tell me that you mean who I think you mean."

"Absolutely," he said with a smirk.

Zoya's shoulders stiffened, and she shook her head. "Madness. Absolute madness. Our King has gone mad."

"Yes, but you haven't said no."

Zoya jutted out her chin. "I still could."

General and King looked across the room from each other, a silent battle of wills. Finally, Zoya pursed her lips together. "And how, exactly, do you suggest we...fix The Fold?"

"I've an idea," said Nikolai, "and it involves a little madness, a heist, and fixing true love."

Zoya heaved a sigh. "Of course it does."