𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑶𝑾'𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑨𝑹 - 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

CHAPTER XV.

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𝟕:𝟎𝟗 𝐚.𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.
𝐎𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐚, 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐤𝐚.
༻✧༺
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          𝕹essa waited and waited for the peace that never came. She waited for the liberation, the freedom, the serenity that should have followed the completion of her mission. But none of that came. She just remained there. Next to the body. In the pool of blood. Her soul, darker than it ever was. And the anger tarnished. And the silence came. She had finally killed him, and had never felt so alone.

She looked down at her hands drenched in blood, at the mutilated body beside her, thought about the dead guards in the corridor. She did not regret any of these deaths. Each and every one of them were necessary to complete her goal.

Her dagger was still stabbed in his heart, and she took it removed it, creating a repulsing sound, slowly getting up like a new-born monster from hell, her hair, her clothes, her face covered in crimson red, even unable to shed a tear.

And in the shadows, a movement. A voice. That voice. Just as rough and deep as in her dreams. As in her nightmares. And when Nessa thought she could not fall deeper, she just did. 

No.

"It appears...that I have gravely underestimated you." 

She could not feel anything apart from the blood on her and the knife in her hand. She was going mad. She remembered a story that Inej once told her, a belief that the Suli people had, that if one does too many terrible actions in their life, a ghost was born from this dark side.

Inej's people called it someone's shadow. Nessa had no idea whether she was being haunted...or was the shadow.

"I will not make this mistake twice."

His face came in the light, slowly, like the fallacious universe was delighted of every ounce of terror that went through Nessa's body. And then his body, perfectly intact, dressed in the same black kefta. The exact same replica of the mutilated corpse laying in a pool of blood. And on his face, this hauntingly flawless face, the usual superior arrogance was gone. And if one looked closely, in these at first sight impenetrable eyes, one could see a spark of wariness.

"It can't be." Nessa let out in a hoarse voice, so raspy from screaming that she barely recognized it. "You're dead."

The Darkling lowered his eyes on the corpse, his corpse, barely even recognizable, then back to Nessa. "I wish I could say I am haunting you, but the poor soldier you killed was nothing like me. Well, apart from the incredibly accurate job of my best heartrenders."

Blurry pieces of the puzzles assembled in her confused mind. The sloppiness of his moves. His words, so uncharacteristic of him. The absence of any use of power. No, no, no. But a major part of her brain, the one torn apart with pain and suffering, this part denied the truth laying in front of her eyes. The one that would send her into oblivion and in paradise. The one that would destroy her and put her back together.

She clenched her grip on her knife and took a step forward, unsure of what she was about to do. Maybe she'll stab him. Just to make sure he was real. "Prove it." She grunted, her throat aching. 

The Darkling's body tensed when she advanced towards him, as he wanted to take a step back. The roles were reversed. He was afraid of her. He had seen what she could do. Seen her at her most vulnerable and worst. Seen all the parts of Nessa that herself did not want to see. 

But instead of backing out or attacking her, he raised his right hand, the one with the ring.

And the shadows closed on Nessa.