horology | the darkling

let go

the scientist - coldplay

but tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
oh and I rush to the start

/

'loving you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction' - d.j.

-

michail

News of Seraphina has spread faster than wildfire. Or the waves that the Tidemakers could summon. If only Grisha devoted as much as their time to training as much as gossiping. Michail scoffed quietly to himself as he tiptoed down the corridor. Seraphina's room was in sight, white doors eerily. Seraphina was not going to be easily killed. If the extent of her powers was as much as he feared, he would need a lot more than just physical force. He would have to make sure she couldn't mentally toy with his mind.

It'd been a few nights since he saw the General creep out into the woods. Michail had been flicking light rays out of his wrists, anxiously staring out into the distance. He turned back and eyed the bottle on the table; it was empty. He wondered how long he had been drinking; it was the early hours of the morning now, judging by the clouds that had suddenly started to roll in from the east. He curiously averted his gaze back to the sky; the weather had becoming increasing unpredictable. There was probably a reason for that but he doubt it was something exciting, probably was just Fjerdans conducting tests on captured Grisha. He chuckled but didn't appreciate his dark humour. It was a pathetic joke. The Darkling came back looking pale and haunted. There was something in his eyes, a fear that seemed to be consuming him. He rushed up the stairs and disappeared, slinking back into his own room. Michail closed the curtains, dark shadows enveloping the room once more. He dreaded to think what could cause the Darkling to tremble with fear.

The moon seemed cruel tonight. The waxing crescent brought back memories of his father. His only memory was the crimson sphere his father had given on his 4th birthday; it was supposed to be a representation of Mars, the red planet. This is the planet of the God of War, his father had said. In ancient times, they named it after him because of the colour; it was a reminiscent of blood. His father was a kind man, or so he thought. But wasn't a planet though that he had left Michail with; it was marble. His father left him with nothing but a marble and a lifetime of self-doubt. His mother had thought he had run away; she spent endless hours crying and left him to fend for himself.

Michail shook himself out of the thought. He was at Seraphina's door. Memories he didn't want came back to him once more.

Michail had been in love once. Once. And she loved him too. He had just come out of training, a young Grisha officer. She was an amazing woman, in her second year of the army. She was a Squaller, strawberry blonde hair that always smelt of diluted jasmine flowers. She also had brilliant grey eyes; they sparkled in the light of the rising sun when they trained. Michail was popular around the barracks but he didn't feel seen. Drinking with friends seemed to phase into the daily routine but he more he drank, the more he felt like he started to become a background. A scenery. An accessory. She was his reporting officer, but she was kind. Harsh, brutal but she saw him. She wasn't like the other Grisha; she didn't have the condescending look of an officer, she was just... kind. He remember that one time, when he was a little more than tipsy, she sat down next to him. He smelt the flowers. She ordered herself cider, chatting to the barman in fluent Shu. She turned to him and started talking. It was like she could read his mind; she asked him about this nobody ever did. Her eyes shone in the dim light, stars in a dark sky. Michail remember thinking she looked perfect despite the mud caked on her boots, despite the messy bun of the blonde hair, despite dirt on the corner of her eyes. She made him feel like the drinking was worth something; he would have given his future to have one more conversation with her. To hear her laugh. The last time they were together was 23 days later, he remembered it because it was her mother's birthday. He took her to the top of a hill, away from the light and the people. They talked about the sea, their families. She asked him what he wanted and he said you. Then, he kissed her, very gently but surely.The stars gazed down on the two mortals with pity they had seen this story many times before. He would have kissed her longer if he would have known what fate had in store for him.

Seraphina reminded him of her. Somehow. She looked nothing like her but they had the same laugh, the same heavenly laugh. She made him feel safe, even for the briefest minutes. He had never felt more alive that when they gazed at the constellation that night, a long long time ago. It was like Alisa had been returned to him. He clung on to that picture, so hard and for so long that he deceived himself into loving her. He wanted her to be his strawberry blonde officer so badly that he would have done anything to keep her. He kept indulging himself in his delusions, plunging himself back into the murky waters of deception. Even though he was warned about the raven haired girl, as soon as he laid eyes on her, he didn't listen. But Seraphina was nothing like her. Alisa would never have done what Seraphina did. His Alisa. She wasn't cruel.

Alisa died without the dignity she deserved. They were set on a mission into the Fold. Orders from on high, they said, but everyone knew who commissioned the order. The Darkling. They had heard stories about those unlucky bastards who were sent as guinea pigs into the overwhelming terror filled void but they didn't think they would suffer the same destiny. Alisa was very brave about the ordeal; he remember he walking around the troop, reaffirming them that everything was going to be alright. That their saints would keep them safe. Alisa said she never believed in saints because the dead don't perform miracles. She was right.

The others called it a freak accident. A flaw in the machinery. The new boats that the engineer Durasts had constructed were too weak for the Squaller winds. They held out but the masts crumbled in the Fold. They were sitting ducks for the Volcra, easy targets. Michail remembered their horrifying screeches, like screams of the dead. He didn't even see what happened to Alisa; it was all so dark. There was just screaming, a lot of screaming and then nothing. He shut his eyes and crawled under one of the planks. Coward's move. Nobody could have survived. But he did. When he emerged from the helm, the masts were on fire but there was not a body in sight. He searched for Alisa, for so long that he was sure he was going to pass out from exhaustion and dehydration. He felt his hand come into contact with something, cold and bony. Somebody's finger. Michail passed out. For the first time, he was looking forward to death.

Michail met Time in a fever dream. She was golden, that was the only way he could describe her, eyes like black lakes. She was sat on her heavenly throne, glaring condescendingly down on him. He was sure he was dead, fog descending through his mind. He didn't remember seeing Time's mouth move but they must have because she spoke. She told him what she was, she told him about Alisa, she told him that he had a part to play. Told him that it was why he was he wasn't killed. She described the cosmic game of cat-and-mouse she was playing, she told him what the Darkling was. She whispered the sins of the Black Heretic's past to Michail. Told him that he was more powerful that he could ever imagined. That he could control light. She told him that for Ravka was to thrive, the Darkling would have to die. Time showed him that he was powerful enough to slay the General. She said that she could bring Alisa back. His heart jumped. He would do anything, he said. He sold his soul to her before she could even ask him for it. Time laughed. Then, she told him about a certain girl, stubborn, dark haired girl. Time's chosen one. Seraphina Vessensky. She told him about Seraphina's powers, that she would be the redemption, the saviour that Ravka needed. She said that if Michail helped Seraphina ascend the throne, she would give him Alisa. He agreed with the hopelessness of a fool in love.

Michail walked out of the Fold alone, with a look in his eyes filled with such determination people wondered if he had come to save them all.

But Time had underestimated him. She had underestimated that he would learn to forgive himself for what happened to Alisa. She underestimated the self-hatred that he would turn into a unique love for being on the good side. But most importantly, she had underestimated his intellect. He was perhaps the only one who understood her cosmic game. He understood that she was just as broken as any mortal and that she was doing everything out of spite. And that she never wanted peace. She longed for blood to be spilt. And that Time wasn't good. And that she would never bring Alisa back to him. She didn't understand that some could let go of the mental images that caged them, the what ifs and the what could have beens. Michail had been told what Seraphina would become long before she even knew herself. Time had made a mistake in her own game; she had been deceived by her superiority complex. In truth, she was too arrogant, thinking that she could never be outsmarted. Now, she would start to pay the price.

Michail Sidorov was much more than she thought he was and now, as he slowly pushed the door to Seraphina's room open, Time realised that he was a force to be reckoned with.