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ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕟 𝕂𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕟

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Four days remained until my father and I would join the troops at the Fjerdan border. I sat alone in my silent chambers, hunched over the open book on my desk, my hands ruffling my hair. A ball of light hovered just beside me, illuminating the pages. But I failed to take in any words as my eyes scathed blankly over the finely aged paper. Eventually, I slammed the cover shut and leaned back in my chair.

With the barest flick of a finger, the light went out and I was left in sombre darkness. I stretched my tense limbs and groaned. I needed to walk. Anything to clear my head of all these unwanted thoughts.

I left the darkness of my room and entered the warmly lit hallway, quietly tip-toeing down the stairs. I passed through the Grisha dorms, finding myself stopping outside Tony's door. But I pulled myself away before I could do anything stupid like wake him.

The moon was high in the sky by the time I reached the garden path, wandering without any destination. The fresh air did nothing to distract me, if anything it only made them louder. I growled frustratedly.

But that's when I spotted it. A light flickering in the distance. I blinked, hesitating before seeking out the source.

The light led me to a small hut shrouded by trees. I'd seen the hut during the day, but had never once stopped to wonder what was in it. Smoke billowed from the chimney and I saw the familiar flicker of firelight through one of the windows. I watched the plumes of black smoke drift from the brick chimney into the starry sky.

I stopped just outside the door, trying to look into the window beside it. I saw no signs of anyone inside, but fires didn't just start themselves. The thought of the warmth it must provide reminded me of how cold it was outside. I'd left my kefta behind and was sorely regretting it. But the last thing I wanted was to go back inside the Little Palace. Perhaps whoever was inside would share their warmth?

My fist rapped lightly on the door and I heard movement inside. Then, a little boy opened the door, peering up at me. "Y-yes?" he stuttered.

"Hi," I began, clearing my throat. But another voice cut me off before I could speak again. "Who is it?" A female voice, old and cranky, shouted from inside. The boy glanced over his shoulder at someone then back up at me for an answer.

"Reagan Kirigan," I replied and watched as the boy's already nervous features turned shocked.

He turned back to whoever had spoken. "He says his name's-"

"I know what he said!" The voice snapped back. "I'm not deaf! Hurry up let him in already! The cold air's getting in!" I shuffled hastily inside and gasp at the smothering heat. It was so hot it was hard to breathe.

The hunched figure dressed in black sat by a roaring fire, slowly pushing herself up to face me. I bit back a startled gasp as my eyes failed to meet hers. Because they weren't there! In their place was too empty sockets.

"Misha!" She snapped and the boy ran to her side obediently. "Check on the tea. And you," she pointed in my general direction. "Come closer."

If her tone hadn't been so sharp and frightening I would've refused to move. I couldn't stop staring at the empty space where her eyes should be. But I forced myself forward until I was close enough for her to reach out a shaky hand to touch my face.

I stood still and tense as her fingers ran across my face, feeling my sharp jawline, my cheeks, shu eyes, my slim eyebrows and ruffled hair. "Hm," she hummed. "You're a lot like your father, aren't you?"

"I hope so," I replied and she sniffed, lowering her hand to my neck and touching the golden scale collar embedded in my skin. She hovered there for a bit before sitting back down and called out. "Misha! Where's that tea?

"Coming!" Misha hurried to us with a tray in his hands.

"Sit," the old woman instructed, and sunk into the chair opposite hers. "Sankt Reagan," she said, blowing in the cup Misha hand her. "The Star Saint," she continued in a mocking tone, her lips pulled in a sour half-smile. "The saint to end all saints. To end all wars."

"Is that what they're saying?" I asked, pouring myself a cup and gently sipping. 

"So this is the so-called savour of Ravka. A frail little boy," she shook her head disapprovingly. My grip on the cup's handle tightened. "I wouldn't call me the frail one." My words were meant to be hurtful, but she just chuckled.

"Ah, yes. I see it now. You are a lot like Aleksander."

"And what would you know about my father," I grumbled, taking another long sip.

"Far more than you or anyone else would know about my son." I spluttered, choking on the hot tea. The woman gave me a disgusted expression. "You're not supposed to inhale it."

I was lost for words and when I finished coughing I placed my cup back down on the tray. "You're..."

"Not so high and mighty now, are we? I'm disappointed. I had expected to see you a lot sooner, but you never came to visit."

"I didn't know-"

"Of course you didn't. Why would my son risk telling you about me?" Her words were spiked with a jagged edge. "After all, it was I that convinced your mother to leave. What if I convinced you to do the same? He removed me of my sight the first time. Imagine what he'd do if I did it again." There was no fear in her voice, it fact it was almost challenging. As if she wanted to see what was the worst he could do to her.

"He took away your eyes?"

"Yes, that's what I said. Don't you pay attention?" She snapped.

"I didn't know..."

She gave a loud huff. "For a saint, you sure don't know a lot. But of course you don't. You're just a child. You know nothing of the cruelness of the world and what man can do to those who oppose him."

"That's not true," I wriggled in my seat.

"Maybe one day you'll come to understand," she replied gravely, before waving her hand at me. "You will come back to me tomorrow and we will begin."

"Begin what?"

"Your training."

"I've already been trained," I replied with surity.

"By who? My idiot son. He's doesn't know the first thing about training Grisha. No. Come back tomorrow morning and we will begin your real training. Now leave!" I stood after a long pause of silence, nodding a thank you to Misha before reaching the door. I opened it, but paused before exiting, turning back to the woman at the fire. "Why would you train me?"

She turned her eyeless face to me. Cold chills ran down my spine. "Close that saints forsaken door before I freeze to death!" 

I rolled my eyes, turning back to face outside "Good night, Grandma," I added without thinking first. The word sounded foreign and wrong in my mouth.

"You will call me Bagrah, like everyone else does!" She ordered before I shut the door firmly behind me.

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Hello Readers!

Thanks again for the overflow of beautiful comments!
Stay safe, happy and healthy and I will
see you all again in the next chapter.

- DawnTide