Beautiful and Broken

3.

What I've observed at that moment was an amount of light unseen in my prior time spent in the Fold, a corridor made of light around a skiff, followed by a violent change in the material of the Fold itself which made the light disappear for a few moments, and a wave of volcra descending to the source of it, to which I was also trying to get as fast as I could. By the time I arrived, the skiff was brought down, the source of light departing from it, all of the occupants apparently dead or very close to it – except one person, who seemed to be fighting the volcra in a peculiar way. 

He was using the very material the Fold was made of, altering it into shapes that moved on their own, attacking the volcra with surprising efficacy. But it only lasted a few moments, their creator collapsing on the ground, the shapes vanishing and the man or woman at the mercy of the Fold. I've summoned lightning, only careful not to hit the shipwrecked magician – or Grisha, I supposed. It worked just as well as before, the volcra quickly deciding to keep their distance from the light I've summoned around us.

He was a man, and gravely hurt. I've touched him to find out if he was still alive, and I've felt an uncanny amount of power surge trough me, the light I was continuously summoning reaching the size of the corridor seen not long ago. I've let go, only to realize that he was probably an amplifier – a specificity of Grisha magic, certain people or animals being able to multiply a magician's power to a great extent. At least I've learned he was alive, so I could try some healing, more careful this time to put a barrier between my power and his. I've searched for the most serious wounds, urging his blood to cloth faster and his flesh to close, if only to an extent so that I can keep him alive until I can get him out of there. He regained consciousness quicker than I expected, the first thing he's whispered being a name: Alina.

"Not me", I answered. "Can you walk?"

"What are you then?"

"Later. Can you walk or not?"

Instead of answering, he made an attempt at getting up. I've helped him, using some magic to balance his weight with my not so great physical abilities to be able to half-carry him. By the time we reached the end of the Fold, he pushed me aside, standing on his own, and I've felt him reaching inside the Fold, summoning.

"Follow", he said, and the same shapes he's created before have emerged from the wall of darkness.

They were vaguely human, with a torso and two legs and two arms, but the resemblance ending here, their entire shape being made of shadows. It didn't last too long, as he's exerted the little power he had, promptly collapsing again. Great, there goes my healing.

This time I went about it much more thoroughly, as the imminent threat of volcra was gone. As I was done with his interior wounds – some broken ribs, fortunately none of them piercing any vital organs, some internal bleeding which was to be expected, then the pieces of flesh ripped out of him, and also a dislocated shoulder –, and I have started to work on his face, I found him rather handsome.

"Pity that healing is not my forte, this will leave some scars", I've mumbled, more to myself than to him.

His unexpected smile startled me. I should have learned by now that he had an unusual ability to get himself together.

"No problem, at least they'll see my true nature now. So, what are you?", he asked as if anything that happened after me helping him on his feet was a brief intermission.

"I'm Altair, witch of Atlantis."

"Witch of what? This is no time for jokes."

His smile vanished, his gaze turning cool. Small wisps of shadow were creeping out of nowhere around us.

"Atlantis. I'm not joking."

"Atlantis is a legend, a place from fairy tales..."

"Maybe for you, as Ravka had no diplomatic or economic relations with us for what, a few hundred years. But I assure you, we exist."

In lack of an answer I've focused on fixing another scar on his forehead.

"And what should I call you?", I inquired.

"They call me the Darkling."

"And what's your real name?"

"Just that. But you may also call me General."

"No thanks, not an army person. Do you only address each other by function here in Ravka?"

"Fine", he grunted. "Does Aleksander suit you better?"

"It definitely suits you better."

A smile again.  

"And I assume you must be some few hundred years old at least, though you don't really show your age," I guessed.

He laughed so hard I had to stop working on his wounds. Another thing I've found out only much later was how rare a sound of his I've just heard.

"You...", he said, having to stop because he didn't regain his breath from laughing. "Only two other persons in whole Ravka know this, and you find out ten minutes after meeting me. What are you, really?"

"I'm a scholar, we know how to come to conclusions when we see some matching facts", I offered in the tone of an academy presentation. "Your magic and the magic of the Fold are familiar to a high extent, which leads me to think that you are connected to it, very probably having created it, which obviously didn't happen a human lifetime ago."

"More close to hundreds of years, actually. Are you not threatened by me, Altair of Atlantis?" There it was again, cool gaze and shadows and all that. Some changes of temper, my new acquaintance had.

"I've just saved your ass in there, that must account for something even between Black Heretics."

"Maybe it does. I only know one other like me. But I won't hurt you. I'm willing to find out more, I'm much too curious about you right now."

"Oh, thank you for the reassurance, I can rest easy now." I've put all the fake honey of a tavern girl serving an annoying patron in my voice. He expected his age to shock me, but mages of Atlantis lived much longer than humans. By the time we finished our education and received our first field assignment, most – me included – were already past a hundred years. So the only thing remained to be threatened by was his magic, but not in his current state, even though I supposed I would need to reach deep for my power to oppose him if he were fully healed and rested. Of course I had no intention of disclosing any of it. The single thing we had in common was mutual curiosity, and that wasn't enough to amount for any trust in my book.