A darklina story~How would the story end if the battle at the climax of Seige & Storm between Alina and the Darkling happened at a different place and time-After the Darkling became the reigning king. What would have happened if the Sun Summoner sur...
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TᕼE ᖇOOᗰᑕOᑎTIᑎᑌES to fill with sun and shadow. I will not give in. I feel the Darkling's grip on my shoulder tighten. Mine imitates him, holding firmly to his upper arm. Suddenly, the connection seems like too much to bear. I feel a moment where we are one mind.
My vision peters out and I can not see the room anymore, yet I still feel the muscle of his arm flex under my fingertips. I will not let go.
My mind is not my own anymore. I soon realize that I am in a memory. Aleksander's memory. I see Aleksander standing in front of a line of the King's men. Their uniforms suggest four, possibly five Kings prior to the current reign. In front of him, there is a woman. They are both bound with their hands behind their backs. Aleksander has a look that I have never seen on his face before. Hopelessness.
"No!" he screams. The woman is stabbed by one of the soldiers. She crumples to the ground and the Darkling cries out in anger. The woman... It must be Luda.
I am torn from one memory into another. I find myself in a damp, dark room. On a small bed, there is a familiar face. It is Baghra. She looks much healthier and younger, but it is undeniably her. The Darkling and Baghra are arguing about the war the Darkling started on Grisha by trying to protect them. Though he looks the same, Aleksander seems so young, so human.
"Oh, Aleksander. Where is the girl? Your Healer?" Baghra asks.
"Dead. She died because of me."
"She died because they always do. They're not as strong as you and me."
"You're the one who taught me how to kill, mother. Their blood is on your hands as much as mine," the Darkling growls.
"I taught you so that you could protect yourself. Not them. I told you as much, but you are so stubborn. You wouldn't listen. Maybe you will now."
The Darkling only shakes his head.
"Go. Flee here and come back after the King's death," Baghra pleas. "Chose a new name, a nobleman's name. Wait until there is a problem only Grisha can solve."
"What about the Grisha in danger now? We need to act now. We need to teach them how to fight."
"Most Grisha aren't fighters! They fix things. They make things."
"Then we make an army. Morozova did it. We are his bloodline. We can play on his legacy.
"You mean to use Merzost?" she questions angrily. "We practice Small Science, not magic."
"I can create, just like he did."
"Then you will die, like he did."
I do not need to see what happens next. It is the story that every child is told at a young age. Regardless, I am pulled into another fragmented memory. The day he created the Fold. I can feel his anger, grief, excitement, and other complex emotions when he uses Merzost and discovers it to be out of his control. I watch the shadows consume the land and those inhabiting it.
