I THINK IT'S RATHER BEAUTIFUL.

All Mal Oretsev could hear was the roaring of the crowd, each of them crammed inside of a tent and standing around a circle where he and a fellow soldier were waiting. As a bell rang, a man called for final bets, signifying that it was time for the fight to begin.

Smooth, tanned skin was revealed as Mal slid his shirt over his head, handing it to Dobrev and Mikhael, who were amongst the only ones rooting for him — his opponent was taller.

"Keep it clean, boys, go on," the promoter said, getting out of the way.

It was by no means a quick fight, and Mal felt it in his gut when he received the first punch. He let his body fall back almost dramatically — something he'd learned from Ithaca.

Never let them know how strong you really are until it counts.

Then Mal was back on his feet, blood thrumming away in his ears as he blocked a hit and then punched the man in the nose, the sickening crack drowned by the sounds of the clamoring crowd. When he rightened himself, he tried to punch Mal, who sidestepped him and then tripped him. The opponent tried to get up, but Mal was quicker, hitting him hard once more in the head until he dropped like a sack of flour.

When he didn't immediatly get up, the bell rang, signifying Mal as the winner. Mikhael and Dobrev ran over excitedly, hugging him before Mal kindly helped his opponent stand — the fight was all in good fun, after all.

"You beauty!" Dobrev said, shaking Mal heartily, who smiled.

"My boy, Mal Oretsev, wins again!" Mikhael cheered. "Who wants a go?"

The cheering died out as a man stepped forward, his station signified by the royal blue of his kefta.

"I'll take a turn," the Grisha man said, a smirk on his face. "How about it? Just you and me."

Then he used his magic — Small Science, they called it — to throw dirt as Mal, it getting in his eyes. The crowd booed, no one in the First Army a friend of the Grisha.

Mal stepped forward intimidatingly, but his Lieutenant grabbed him and dragged him back. "No, no, no. If you lose, you'll be in the medika. If you win, they'll throw you in the brig. Shut it down, boys! Shut it down!"

"You try me without that magic, huh?" Mal spat angrily.

"It's just air. Come on!" the Grisha pleaded cockily. "Anyone! Anyone!"

"I'll have a go," a firm but feminine voice spoke up, cutting through the chattering crowd clearly.

Everyone parted as they always did for their Colonel. Ithaca Zaiste had black kohl around her green eyes and dried blood underneath her nose, a sign that it wasn't her first fight of the day. She stood tall despite her lacking height, her gaze taking in the embroidery around the kefta that signified the man as a Squaller.

Mal was the only one to smile at her arrival — people tended to be intimidated by the warrior. "I thought you weren't getting in until nightfall."

"I finished things early. You know me. I don't like to toy with my kills," she said, not taking her eyes off the Grisha. "Let's have a go, yeah? I'll even let you use your little science."

"Don't expect a healer at the end of this just because you're a girl," he said with a chuckle — Ithaca didn't think he was all that funny.

She stepped forward and planted her feet firmly onto the ground in front of him, and when he brought his hands close together, she was ready. Air whipped around her, lifting her off the ground. She leaned into it, spinning mid air before ducking low under the current. Then she swept her leg out, kicking his feet from underneath him.

As soon as he jumped up, she intercepted him before he could bring his hands close once again, holding them apart with strength that surprised him. Then, with a move she'd seen Mal do a hundred times and regretted each time as well, she reared back and slammed her forehead into his nose hard, feeling his blood splatter on her skin.

Ithaca brought his right arm up and twisted him around until his back was to her, seemingly hugging himself from the position she had him trapped in. She kicked his knees so that he'd drop to the ground and then pressed her mud-covered boot onto his back, pushing down until he was gasping for air, failing for it to reach his lungs.

"That's enough, Zaiste!" the Lieutenant snapped, pulling her back. The Grisha gulped down air while scrambling away, a look of fear on his face. He looked at her with wide eyes before pushing through the laughing crowd, running from her. "You'll get in trouble for that, and you know it."

"What are they gonna do? Send me to the frontlines? Oh wait, they already do that," she said snarkily before pulling out of his hold. Then she walked up to Mal, who was waiting for a hug. "There's the best tracker that ever was."

"Says the best soldier there ever was," he chuckled while leading her from the tent. "And you just proved it by handing that Grisha his ass. He'll probably go crying to that General of theirs."

On the other side of camp was a large, black tent that no one was permitted near without explicit permission. The Black General had arrived not one hour ago, and no one had spotted him yet — and they wouldn't until the skiff set out the following day.

"Well, I know who you'd be running to," Ithaca said, a teasing glint in her eyes. "To a certain Cartographer whose unit just got in."

Mal's gentle eyes brightened at the mention of Alina, who meant the entire world to him. And Ithaca understood, as she was just as important to her, just in a different way. Even if he hadn't admitted it to himself, Mal was desperately in love with Alina Starkov, their other best friend.

"She's here already?"

"And you're assigned to her unit to head South," she informed him with a smile. "I may have had a bit of influence over that."

"Amazing! You're brilliant," he said, hugging her once more. "Let's go find her."

Though she wanted to wash the Drüskelle blood off her hands, Ithaca still let Mal drag her around camp until they spotted a familiar girl that made them both smile. Alina was the kind of person to ease all their worries.

"Alina!" Mal called, catching her attention. And the girl beamed at the sight of them running up to her.

"When did you get in?" Alina asked.

"Yesterday. Everyone's getting their assignments," Mal explained.

"And just now," Ithaca said as Alina pulled them both into a hug.

Even as they parted, Mal kept his arm around Alina as they walked through camp. "Ithy tells me cartography's heading back south with my unit."

"They're looking for a way through the mountains," Ithaca explained. "I figured they'd need the best tracker with the best map maker."

"Oh! So we're back together?" Alina asked, her eyes brightening.

"They can't keep best friends apart for too long," Mal said.

"Corporal Oretsev, are you saying you miss me?" Alina asked teasingly.

Ithaca turned her head the other way, having become a pro at making herself invisible any time Mal and Alina had an intimate moment. But of course, Mal ruined it by opening his mouth.

"Well, I need someone to take the fall for my petty crimes, that's all," Mal shrugged.

It rolled off Alina's shoulders as she looked around, noticing something missing. "Oh, they moved our tent."

"Yeah, it's down that end now," Mal pointed out.

"So many First Army here," she noted. "We look like a halfway house, accepting donations."

"Actually, I won't be accepting any donations because I won this betting on a fight," Mal bragged, holding up his winnings.

As he handed Alina the money, she stared at it blankly. "Look at you. Flush with five whole... kruge? What will you do with foreign money? We're not in Ketterdam."

"Don't crush my dreams," he whined.

"No, please do," Ithaca begged, bumping Alina's shoulder. "I've to meet with the Lieutenant about the newest trip, but I'll see you after the announce who's accompanying the Grisha on the skiff."

"Not you, I hope," Alina said, holding her hand.

"They never send me. I'm too important," Ithaca said, actually meaning it. No one had killed more Drüskelle than her. Some saw the black around her eyes and ran, not wanting to go up against her. She made sure that she was something to be feared. "I'll find you in a bit."

☆

︎

In a crowded tent once again, Ithaca stood alongside the general, standing tall and proud as countless soldiers looked upon them. Her jaw was tight, anger coursing through her over what was about to be announced — but not even she had enough sway in the army to change things.

"All right, listen up. I know some of you have been on the road for a week, so I'll be brief. Most of you will continue north to the Fjerdan frontlines. Or south to the Shu Han border. The Second Army, however, has a shiny new solution to our food shortage, and it sails tomorrow for Novokribirsk. If this model works, it means a full meal for everyone in this tent next week."

The soldiers began murmuring amongst themselves as Ithaca spoke up. "It means bullets for your guns and sugar for your tea."

"How about some whiskey?" one man asked loudly, making her smirk. But the General wasn't as amused.

"Yes, that would be nice, but don't hold your breath. Of course, they need our help bringing those supplies back, so some of you will be assigned."

In an instant, Ithaca's eyes fell on Mal, who was at the back of the crowd with Alina at his side as always. Her stomach lurched, knowing it was her fault. It was all her fault for fighting that Grisha, and now he was being punished.

"Sergeant Yure Teplov. Tracker Malyen Oretsev! Corporal Masyelentov! Rifleman Valek Tapenyov! Medic Nolech Barenovsky! And finally, Colonel Ithaca Zaiste."

They were both being punished.

☆︎

Ithaca sat at an empty table, pushing her dinner around her plate, not in the mood to eat despite the food scarcity they were going through. She was waiting for Mal and Alina to make it through the food line and join her for dinner. She hadn't gotten the chance to speak to either of them since the announcement, and this could very well be her last meal with the two.

"What's a Shu girl doing here?" Ithaca suddenly heard, coming from one of the cooks serving food. She looked up and saw he was talking to Alina, who was stunned.

"I'm Ravkan. On the cartography team," she murmured.

"She's half Shu. An orphan," her friend, Alexei said, though that didn't help.

"Is that an answer?" the line cook asked plainly. "Back of the line. Your friends, too."

"I don't know them," Alina said quickly, not wanting them to miss out on food. Those at the back never had anything to eat.

"Then you go. Come on!" he snapped.

Alina swallowed thickly and slammed down her plate before fleeing the tent altogether. Mal and Ithaca watched her go, and Mal was the first to move. Ithaca got up and grabbed her plate, catching up to the boy.

"Give her this," Ithaca muttered, knowing she wouldn't follow. She had always been rubbish at comforting people — Mal was the more sensitive of the three best friends. She'd only make Alina feel worse, so it was best to stay away.

"What will you eat?" he asked, just as worried about her.

Ithaca shrugged. "You know me. Survived many a night in the orphanage with just sleep for dinner."

Mal snorted at her lame attempt at a joke before taking the food. "Thank you. She needs it more than us."

Alina had always been more weak and fragile compared to the two of them — physically speaking. It was why she was a cartographer. She'd have been slaughtered day one if she was a soldier, so she needed all the nutrition she could get.

Besides, with being a Colonel, Ithaca could afford to miss a few meals as she ate better than anyone else in the First Army.

☆
︎

Ithaca's stomach was growling a bit as she sat on the very edge of the camp, one of the last ones possibly awake at such a late hour. It was nearing three in the morning and she knew she'd need to be up with the sun. But she wasn't tired — she never was when it was nighttime. She seemed to flourish at night, always seeming more alert and comfortable.

She peered out at the Fold, the black mass of shadow that would greet her for the first time the following morning. And yet she found she wasn't scared. It was just darkness, after all, and she was gifted with the power to light it.

Rather than sleep, she continued to stare into the Fold, marveling at the blue lightning that flashed in the clouds of smoke. It looked so similar to the light she could effortlessly produce, and if she weren't afraid of being seen, she'd call upon that light now as she usually did on nights when she couldn't sleep. Something about seeing the shimmering flecks that resembled stars in her palm calmed her.

Since calling upon her power wasn't an option, she opted to sit in silence while pulling her hair into a long braid. Though she couldn't enjoy it for long, as she heard the sound of grass underneath someone's foot behind her. The intruder moved slowly, clearly coming her way. Hidden in the grass at her side was a knife, which she clutched warily, ready to jump and attack assuming it was a Drüskelle spy come to kill her.

"It's horrifying, isn't it?" a smooth and deep voice suddenly asked, calming her down. He had a Ravkan accent, so she didn't bother to turn around.

"I think it's rather beautiful," she murmured, knowing she could get in trouble for saying such things, especially if anyone particularly loyal to the King heard her. "In its own way."

She was met with silence as he tried to make sense of her words. "Most people fear it," he claimed.

Ithaca smirked. "I don't fear much. And I can handle a bit of darkness."

"You say that because you'll never face it."

"Wrong. I face it tomorrow," she told him, tilting her head. "Don't you recognize me? I thought my face was ingrained in every First Army cadet there was."

"I'm not First Army."

"Ah, a Grisha then," she said, leaning her head back to finally look at him. And she certainly liked what she saw — he was tall and handsome, wearing a simple black shirt tucked into breeches. Though he was dressed plainly, she could practically feel the aura of power coming off him in waves. "And he's brave, too. No kefta."

"Not as brave as you, it seems, for you don't fear the Fold," he noted, nodding toward the darkness ahead.

"Let me guess, then," she said, studying his handsome features. "Not a Inferni — they have this annoying swagger about them. Perhaps a Tidemaker?"

"I'd like to think I'm not that shallow."

She actually laughed at his terrible pun and shook her head. "Heartrender it is, then," she said, looking back forward, not paying him anymore mind as she finished her braid and tied it off with a black ribbon.

"So, who are you to be important enough to be on the skiff tomorrow?" he questioned, genuinely curious.

Ithaca stood and faced him before giving a little bow. "The Blade of Ravka, at your service," she said, using her ridiculous title given to her by the King.

She saw the corner of his lip twitch in an almost smile — something told her that the man didn't smile much. "I thought you'd be more imposing. I wasn't expecting just a girl."

"Trust me," she said, beginning to walk past him. "I'm much more imposing when covered in the blood of my enemies."

"Then I hope I have the honor of seeing you fight one day," he said to her, wishing to keep talking even though she was leaving his side. He wanted to extend the conversation that she was eager to end.

Ithaca smirked at him over her shoulder. "Me too — I'll be sure to save your life sometime just to show off."

She left him there, standing in the darkness with the elements inside of him stirring, something inside of him reaching out to the girl, a new and unfamiliar feeling that had him on edge and confused.

☆︎

Ithaca thought it was a bit ridiculous that the Black General couldn't walk through the camp like everyone else to get to the loading docks of the skiff. He rode his fancy chariot, disturbing everyone in their mangy tents that were getting ready for the day. Ithaca watched it get father and father away, hardly paying attention to Alina's friends in the cartography unit.

"Is it him? General Kirigan."

"The leader of the Second Army here to grace us with his presence?"

"He must believe the new skiff will be a shining success."

"Or a spectacular failure," Alexei muttered.

"Alexei," someone hissed.

"What?" he asked stupidly before looking at Mal and Ithaca apologetically. "Sorry, Mal, Ithaca."

"Do you think he's coming with us?" Mal asked.

"Not a fucking chance," Ithaca muttered. She didn't know much about the General, but she figured he'd never risk his life on a trip to the Fold. Besides, with the type of Grisha he was, part of her wondered if the Fold would just feed off of him — if it would grow stronger.

"Are we children, or are we soldiers?" the Lieutenant snapped, breaking everyone's concentration off the carriage. "Get to your posts and pack your gear. Skiff launches in twenty. Sergeant, get your crew ready!"

The Sergeant came over with a smile on his face. "Mal, you're with me, son. Chin up. I've crossed it three times without incident," he said, holding up his wrist to show off the lines tattooed on his arm, signifying that he'd been across the Fold and back three times, which was impressive. "You'll get your first soon enough. Ithaca can give it to you."

Mal sighed and looked at Alina. "I'll be back before you know it."

"And I'll be here the whole time," she said sadly. "Me and the cartographers, I mean."

As Mal stalked off, Ithaca grabbed Alina's hand. "I'll protect him. You know I will."

"But who's going to protect you?" she asked, squeezing her hand tightly. "You can't fight the Fold."

Ithaca smirked jokingly. "But I can sure try."

"You're not funny," she said, shaking her head and fighting off a smile. "I'll be waiting, yeah?"

"Bye, Lina," she murmured, pulling her into a hug. Ithaca had only ever hugged two people in her life — Alina and Mal, and they knew how important a hug was to her.

"Bye, Ithy," she mumbled, tears welling in her eyes. Alina never had to worry about Ithaca, but she couldn't help it now. Not when she couldn't keep her eyes on Ithaca and Mal herself.

She'd just have to change that.

☆︎

"We're going to be fine, Mal," Ithaca said as they slowly lined up to get on the skiff, just a few steps behind a pretty Squallar who'd smiled and nodded to Mal.

"Yeah, you'll just scare the darkness away," he said sarcastically. Then he shook his head. "We will be okay because we have you."

"Glad you have faith," she said, bumping his shoulder.

"I mean it;" he laughed. "You're terrifying and there's nothing wrong with that. But you didn't earn the title 'Ithaca the Bloody' by being soft and cuddly. You'll have those volcra quaking in fear."

"Ithaca the Bloody?" the Squaller questioned, turning around. "They're risking putting the Blade of Ravka on this skiff?"

"Finally pissed off the wrong person, I suppose," she muttered, feeling a bit bad for dragging Mal into it as well. "And you are?"

"Zoya," she said simply before leaving them behind, not thinking they were worth her attention even after learning about Ithaca's rank.

"Bitch," Ithaca muttered under her breath, making Mal smile.

But that smile faded when he saw Alina and the horde of mapmakers loading onto the ship. He quickly grabbed her, and Ithaca was just a step behind him, not wanting her there either. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We've been assigned with you."

"No. Turn around right now," he said, worrying about her.

"Orders are orders."

"I could shoot you in the foot."

"I like my feet, thank you," she said with too much of a carefree tone.

"Tell them you're too sick to go," Ithaca argued.

"I'm never that sick."

"Lie if you have to."

"And what's your lie? I'm with you."

"Get off this boat now, or I'll carry you off," Mal threatened.

But then Sergeant Yure yelled out. "Raise the gate! Ready to lock up!" It was too late to get off now.

"I'll make it, promise," Alina said softly.

Mal just sighed and stormed off, unable to look at her. Ithaca stayed behind, knowing she wouldn't move from Alina's side now.

"What'd you do?" Ithaca asked with a knowing look.

An ashamed look made its way onto Alina's face. "N - Nothing."

"Lina," she said in a more firm tone.

Alina sighed and looked down. "I burned the maps. But I didn't mean for my whole unit to be sent."

Ithaca shook her head at how irresponsible it was for her to do something like that. But she was incapable of staying mad at Alina, so she just nudged her toward the deck of the skiff.

"Just stay by me, yeah? I'll make sure nothing eats you up."

"How comforting," she muttered.

Then a dark-skinned Inferni woman clapped her hands, getting all of their attention. "Here's how it goes. We go into the Fold, it gets dark, but we like it dark. That keeps us from drawing attention. That's how we travel. The only light we use is the blue one at the mast. It's weak but safe."

"But you're an Inferni, right?" Raisa asked, confused. "Why are you here if we're supposed to keep things dark?"

"For when the dark comes to keep you," she said with a smirk.

"Ooh, spooky," Ithaca whispered to Alina, who elbowed her.

"Where's your general? Kirigan?" Mal questioned.

He didn't receive an answer, just as Ithaca suspected. The feared General was safe back at camp, watching the skiff from afar. It made Ithaca roll her eyes, thinking less of him for his lack of bravery.

The sail was soon dropping and the ship was launching, Squallers manipulating the wind to push the vessel onward.

"Right, listen to me, cartographers," the Lieutenant said, getting their attention. "Until we reach the western dry docks, you are to remain at your station. Do not, I repeat, do not leave the skiff during the crossing."

As they neared the Fold, Alina grabbed onto Ithaca's arm in fear. The wind grew stronger, tearing the blue scarf from around Alina's neck, sending it far back before she could try and catch it. Ithaca was no better, the ribbon in her hair slipping out. She cursed as it left, it having been a gift from Alina when they were seven — it was the only thing from her childhood that she still had.

But soon, she was forgetting about the ribbon as darkness enveloped them. She could practically feel it clinging to her skin, and her fingers twitched and itched to call upon her power and light the darkness, but she held it in, knowing light was the last thing they needed even if her starlight was the same blue as the lantern.

As they went through the fold, every now and then, lightning would flash, revealing the remains of past skiffs that'd been torn to shreds by Volcra. And then they passed a big flag that noted they'd traveled one mile so far.

"Marker one," someone called out.

"How many more are there?" Alina dared to ask.

"Thirty-seven."

"We'll be fine," Ithaca told her quietly, her fun gripped tightly in her hand.

Screeching and growling and thunder were the only sounds surrounding them. When a creature flew overhead, everyone ducked, and each soldier cocked their gun.

The wind produced by the Volcra's wings blew the blue flame out, and in his stupid, fear-induced state, one of the cartographers lit a match to light the lantern in his hand, producing a bright red flame that called Volcra to them like a beacon.

"Blow it out!" Ithaca snapped. "What are you fucking doing?"

She moved toward him to rip the lantern from his grasps, but a Volcra beat her to it, swooping down and picking him up in its claws. The lantern dropped from his hold and crashed onto the floor of the skiff, the fire spreading even more.

They came on them so quickly that Ithaca hardly processed the screams of horror. Fellow soldiers were ripped apart, bloody body pieces dropping next to her as the Volcra tore into them.

She shot at each one that passed, knowing that their bullets hardly made a different — they only slowed them down.

"Come at me! Come at me, you coward!" the Inferni woman shouted before one sped at her, killing her instantly as its talons pierced her throat.

"Alexei, no!" she heard Alina shout, drawing her attention back to her friend.

Ithaca watched as Alexei jumped over the side of the skiff and ran, knowing he'd be dead within minutes with or without a light to guide him.

Then Ithaca felt talons digging into her shoulders painfully, lifting her from the ground as her gun slipped from her hands. She grunted and tried to force it to let her go, but it was pointless. And so she did the only thing she could to survive.

She brought her hands together and thrust them upward toward the creature, a bright blue light shooting out in a blinding beam, burning through the Volcra's shadowy flesh. It let out a deafening screech and dropped her hard back on the deck of the skiff.

All eyes were on her for a moment, not sure if they should trust their eyes on what had happened. Zoya was frozen as she met her eye, but when Ithaca told her to duck, she did so. Another ray of light that resembled shooting stars shot from her hands, burning the Volcra that'd been diving toward the Squaller.

Then Ithaca heard Alina's scream. "Mal!" She turned on the ball of her feet to see Mal being lifted similarly to her, and he was desperately trying to stab the creatures legs so it would release him. Alina already had Ithaca's lost gun in hand and she shot the Volcra, making it drop Mal hard, who landed on his leg at the wrong angle, a sickening crack sounding.

"Mal!" Alina and Ithaca shouted, running to the boy. Alina got there first and crouched by his side, holding his hand. "Mal!"

Tears welled in Ithaca's eyes, and usually she'd think herself weak for crying. But there was no way Mal would make it out of this — his wounds were too deep and there wasn't a healer on the vessel that was alive.

"I'll meet you at the meadow," Mal promised, not once taking his eyes off Alina.

Alina sobbed and looked to Ithaca as if she could do something. But Ithaca wasn't a healer — she was a killer. She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

Suddenly, a Volcra swooped down, raking its claws across Ithaca's face and blinding her momentarily. And in the time, the creature grabbed onto Alina's back, lifting her and pulling her away from Mal. She screamed and refused to let up on her hold on Mal.

And just as Ithaca wiped the blood from her eyes, she was blinded yet again, this time by a searing, warm, yellow light. A light that came from Alina.