𝑫𝑹𝑰𝑭𝑻 [currently being edited]

chapter 12 - replaceable

Aleksander couldn't fall asleep, seeing Aruna, his little moon crying was permanently replaying in his mind. They hadn't talked about the future, what they would do with their immortal time.

If she was even immortal?

There had been no moon summoners, nor would there be anymore. Baghra, his mother, was the only other confirmed immortal being, who was to say that Aruna wouldn't age.

Like calls to like

They were always so alike yet different. Aruna was kind, caring and selfless. Aleksander was greedy and power hungry.

Yet they both loved the dark, found comfort in the shadows and faint light of the moon. They found comfort in themselves rather than other people, Aleksander had observed Aruna for a few years now.

Watched how she presented herself, how hard she worked, how she worked so seemly with the other grisha, of all ranks, never letting her black kefta stand out how he made his.

He wanted to be different, have power, be bold and make people notice you. Everyone noticed Aruna already, but not because of her black kefta, because she was kind.

Because she helped whenever she could, because she sang to the new, scared grisha children, because she helped the maids and trained the grisha.

They noticed Aruna for all the right reasons and him for all the wrong.

Yet he could not find fault with, because he was one that noticed her as well for all her reasons.

He noticed the blush on her checks that contrasted with the faint freckles. He noticed it all.

Now he just had to act on it, and make sure the sun didn't out shine the moon.

After All his mark was an eclipse not a sun.

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She was back in the tunnels, the dark comforted her, the smell of salt did not. The bitter taste in the air was overpowering, how desperate she was to smell the fresh air again.

However she would not panic again, mother would not feed her if she did not collect enough, she did not have time to panic.

How she wished she would overgrow these tunnels, be to big or lanky to fit, not small and quick.

How she wished to make dolls with the other village girls and grab fish from the streams.

Yet she spent her time in the mines, when the sun rose she went into the mines until it set, sometimes if she was quick enough she had time to bask in the light until she had to return home.

If you could call the poorly constructed cottage a home, the old flour sacks on the flour to call a bed, the rough material often reopening the wounds made by mother. Some parts now stained and stiff with the remnants of old blood.

How she would hear her mothers screams of 'not enough', 'replaceable'.

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Aruna was not in the salt mines anymore, yet her mothers words still span around her head, staring at Aleksander, his peaceful face, he was always a graceful sleeper. Aruna was not, she would toss and turn, spread her arms out, as if she was unconscious testing the space.

Testing the space because the mines were small, you could not spread your arms out in the mines. But someone else could, you were replaceable.

Her mother was right.

She was replaceable and Aleksander had finally gotten his replacement.