XI / The World Has Turned and Left Me Here

THERE'S A CERTAIN irony of seeing a wolf girl like Vera Alekson on a ship when the animals avoid water so often. But, then again, one should suppose that growing up in Fjerda made her accumulated to all kinds of water - ice or liquid the same. This might even be where she looks more organic than she'd ever done in the gilded halls of the Little Palace.

The ship around her sways in silence as Vera stands motionlessly, like a statue, staring out to the city behind the small port. Cofton lies some distance inlands and the Darkling had only taken a handful few Grisha with him on the way to retrieve his precious Sun Summoner. The rest of the group would be made up of his monsters while they had stayed behind. She can't say she is particularly upset about being left behind.

Alina had washed up a long way from Ravka. Still it was not far away enough.

Vera really tries not to blame the two for using the golden hair pins to pay for their trip. It'd been the only thing available for them after all. Still, they'd left a line of expensive breadcrumbs for them to follow and she finds it hard not to be angry at Alina for it all.

After all, anger is something Vera has in an abundance these days.

Anger and grief and violence brimming beneath her skin, barely leashed.

Almost unconsciously, her hand reaches up and trails along the faint set of scars, the ends peeking through just above her kefta on her collarbone. She knows they're barely visible━ most of the time you'll only see them if you know where to look for them. She'd gotten lucky in their nature. Those particular set of claws had been from volcra and not the nichyevo'ya. Otherwise the Healers that had put her back together in Kribirsk wouldn't have been able to make then so unnoticeable.

It'd been one of the first things they'd learned about the monsters. The Corporalki might be able to heal the wounds to an extend, but the nature of them, the merzost that had brought them into existence, had created a whole new set of rules none of them were familiar with. One of them was that they were healable, but the scars would the carried by the injured forever.

She had a small set of claw scars on her left wrist to prove that little truth.

Considering the onslaught of volcra and the birth of the nichyevo'ya, Vera supposes she should feel lucky that those two sets of scars are the only ones that she's gotten from escaping the Fold. Out of the three of them that had made it out, the Darkling's were the most visible━ faint traces of scars littered his face.

Vera finds it very hard to feel any sort of sympathy for them. Not when there are so many people that hadn't gotten the luxury of scars and instead had become food for the volcra.

Curling her fingers into fists, Vera takes in a sharp breath at the reminder. The memories washing over her feel like a force of nature. Unwelcome and utterly unstoppable.

A hand in her's. Then, gone.

"Vaugn!"

The darkness. The screaming of the volcra. Nausea rising up. A hand around her mouth, silencing her screams. A voice behind her as she kneels in the sand.

All consuming rage, grief.

And between it all, two granite eyes. A cool voice. No empathy as tears burn in her eyes. On her cheeks. As her chest cracks in two. "They're all lost. Now lets. Go."

"Well, don't you look delightful on this fine day, Vera."

Vera slants a flat look to her left at the voice jolting her from the memories, her sharp glacier eyes settling on the man sauntering over to her place at the railing.

The first thing she sees is the teal coat when he stops beside her. Then, that stupid crooked grin that makes her want to break things. Preferably not his nose, because it looks like it's already been broken one too many times and it'd be a waste of energy to break it yet again.

"What do you want?" Vera says, lethally quiet.

Sturmhond shrugs. Still that careless, mischievous grin on his face. "Just wanted to enjoy your charming company."

A flat out lie. Even most of the Grisha, who Vera had known for nearly a decade now, made a wide birth around her. The crew members were not any different━ only they kept themselves separated from the Grisha and not only her.

But the Grisha... the Grisha knew. Knew that the Vera thar had gone into the Fold was not the one that emerged. And like with the Darkling, they decided to keep a healthy gap between themselves and her if they could help it.

Vera isn't even really offended about it. She's long past that point.

In truth, if she were them she would keep her distance, too. Anything else would be plain stupid. Because these days, Vera is just as likely to burn them to bones and ashes as the Darkling is fond of creating his monsters.

The irony of it all is not lost on Vera.

Still, she just doesn't care. Let them fear her. Let them see the wolf backed into a corner ready to bite at the slightest irritation. Because that is all she is nowadays. And she has no problem reminding them of it.

Vera turns her pale eyes back on Sturmhond only to find him already watching her. "I will only repeat myself once. So you better think long and good if you want to answer properly this time or not," she says, her voice calm. Like the silence before a storm wreaks havoc. The first crackling of the fire before the inferno hits and ravages everything it touches. "What do you want?"

Stormhond might just be the only person on this ship to be utterly unaffected by her━ whether in the direction of a healthy dose of respect or irritation and anger the way Ivan and her reacted to each other. He only shrugs, making a wide motion around the ship at everything and nothing at once. "Like I said. You looked a little lost here. You know, most of your group enjoy each others company but they never seem to come close to you."

No. They didn't. Maybe it was that she had survived that day in the Fold. Maybe it was the way she was now. Maybe it was the familiarity she'd had with Alina before it all. Whatever it was, the effect was the same. The only person who did bother with her nowadays was Sturmhond. And, of course, the Darkling.

Vera wishes they wouldn't, either.

"Maybe they're just smart enough to take a fucking hint." Vera replies and Sturmhond gives her a crooked grin.

"Maybe. But then I never said I was prone to the smart choices." He replies as he leans his hip against the railing. Looking like this conversation is the most delightful thing in the world.

Vera stares at him, her fingers twitching with the effort not to punch him in the jaw or push him overboard. Or set something on fire.

Eyes flashing, she leans forward. "Leave me the-"

"Captain." A female voice cuts her off from behind them and Sturmhond look to the side as a woman reaches them. She sends Vera a brief glance before she turns back to Sturmhond. "They're back."

Vera clenches her jaw as she turns back towards the railing. Her eyes finding the Darkling's group as Sturmhond tips his head towards the woman.

"Thank you, Yelena."

It's easy to make out Alina and Mal between the familiar faces, all dresses in trader's clothes that look foreign on them. Alina is being carried by Ivan, her form slack and unmoving. Unconscious. A few steps behind, Mal is being led, held by a few Grisha. Not that they have to━ as long as they have Alina, Vera knows Mal will come with them without resistance.

For a brief moment, the Darkling looks up and his empty eyes meet her pale one's. And Vera is back in the darkness of the Fold, being dragged away from the ruins of the skiff by him an Ivan. Away from Vaugn.

After a moment, she tips her head towards the Darkling in a sign of respect and reverence she has long lost. Then, she pushes away from the railing and goes to greet them.

Something had emerged from the Fold.

Something with her face and her fire. The girl that had gone in had died. And Vera was not sure anymore if the one that had emerged from it was still her.

But she did know one thing. Vera had learned these past weeks that the Darkling hadn't nearly spend as much time paying attention to her as she had always believed. Otherwise he would've noticed he was not the only wolf among these sheep. That she merely was a wolf who'd been trained to wear a sheep's hide all her life.

And he would've seen the moment she stopped wearing it as a cage and started to wear it as a weapon.

━━━━━

The Fold, Weeks Ago

THERE'S NOTHNG BUT darkness and death around them. The screeching of the volcra, the screams of their victims. It al blends into a horrible, sickening chorus of horrors behind her.

Vera tightens her grip around Vaugn's hand as she drags him with her through the black mass of the Fold, away from the wreckage of the ship. One hand gripping her brother's, the other around one of her daggers so tightly, if she could see her knuckles would be white. There's no Inferni fire illuminating the world around her. And a horrible instinct in Vera's chest tells her that's she's the last Inferni standing. Maybe she's the last Grisha at all.

Because the survivors she can still hear behind her won't make it much longer.

"We need to go!" Vera calls out quietly, desperation clawing up her throat as she tugs Vaugn along, stumbling forward in the dark.

Not toward where Novokribirsk one had been, but back the way they came. Because where Novokribirsk had been... the volcra were now feasting. And that meant it was nearly impossible to make it through. Going the long way was safer.

And getting Vaugn out safely is the one thing Vera has to do.

Vera cannot see anything without the Inferni fire. Without Alina's light. She cannot hear anything over the volcra and the dying. The only thing that tells her that Vaugn is still next to her is his hand in her's.

Until it is not anymore.

She hears the nauseating screech of the volcra a heartbeat after Vaugn is ripped from her and she is alone.

"Vaugn!"

Nothing answers her in the dark.

Before she really even makes a conscious decision to, small sparks begin falling from her fingertips and then fire erupts from her hands as she flings it blindly in a circle around her. To where she things the volcra might've taken Vaugn.

Vera lets out a desperate yell as she flings fire after fire into the darkness. But the volcra is gone. And so is Vaugn. Swallowed whole by the darkness.

Her ears ring as Vera lets out a guttural sound that might've been her brother's name or might've been a sob. Her knees give way under her and she falls to the ground. And now she is screaming her desperation, her rage. Her loss.

Another piece torn mercilessly from her chest.

She screams to the point her throat is raw and them beyond. Screams despite the volcra around her. Screams still as a hand clamps around her mouth to muffle the sound and shakes her.

"Shut the fuck up," Ivan snaps and shakes her again. "Or do you want us all to die?"

Vera turns to him with a wild look in her eyes and blindly claws at him before she bites down on the hand above her mouth. A caged animal forcing a way out.

Ivan lets out a hiss and lets her go. "What the fuck-"

"Don't ever touch me like that again," Vera says quietly, her voice raw and cracked. It should hurt speaking.

It should. But she can feel no pain. Not with the knowledge of Vaugn being gone cleaving her apart. Knowing that she had failed him. Again. What is a sore throat against that sort of pain?

"What is your fucking problem, Alekson?" Ivan spits from the dark.

You, Vera thinks. All of you. Myself. This. Everything.

Instead of replying, Vera lets out a snarl as she blindly flings a plume of fire. Blind, red-hot rage consumes her, clawing up her throat, choking her.

In the firelight she can see Ivan's eyes widen for a split second before he dives out of the way with a curse.

He rolls aside on the ground as Vera throws another burst of flames at him and after a moment, he spins around to her, raising his hands.

The last thing he sees is Vera's wolf grin before she flicks her wrist and the fire dies out, plunging them into darkness again. Cutting off his line of sight.

"Alekson," Ivan snaps. Vera doesn't reply and for a single moment, silence envelops them. As deathly as the dark.

Slowly, Vera reaches out to her hip and unsheathes one of the daggers strapped to her before she moves into the direction Ivan's voice had come from. If she uses her fire, she needs to be certain she'll get him. Otherwise, he'll get her with his Corporalnik powers the moment he'll get a line of sight.

Vera tils her head to the side and in that moment she feels more like a wolf than anything else. More a predator than a girl.

She relishes in the feeling. In the way her focus hones in on Ivan and the kill and numbs everything else into a dull ache at her chest instead of an consuming, blinding agony.

She prefers the anger over the pain, over the tears. Over the guilt.

"Enough."

The cool voice echoes through the darkness and almost on instinct, the volcras' screeches turn closer. For a moment Vera stills. The respect and blind devotions still rooted in her feels foreign. Like an old that belongs to another time. Another girl.

When had that happened? Vera doesn't know. Maybe last night in the cells. Maybe in Tsibeya with the Stag. Maybe after the Fete when Alina had escaped. Maybe long before.

Vera wheels towards the voice and for a moment, she can see the Darkling coming towards them. A figment of her imagination more than the actual
Summoner. It's far too dark to see anything━ even the Darkling, who is made of the same things as the Fold.

"Ivan, stand down." The Darkling says, voice closer. "Vera, we need to go."

It makes sense. To Vera's deep-rooted survival instincts, it makes sense. And yet, every fiber of her being rebels against the idea.

In the darkness, Vera bares her teeth at the Darkling and it feels like shedding the last parts of her past. Of who she used to be before she went into the Fold.

Deep in her chest, she can feel her firer stirring and rising in response. She takes a single step forwards and connects with a hard body.

Later, Vera will not even remember consciously calling for it but she remembers hearing Ivan's curse and, like a cornered animal, she reacts. The next moment, she snaps her fingers and sparks emerge from them, raining down onto the ground. The barest flicker of light and she can see Ivan staring back at her. The Darkling a few steps away.

A flame comes to life in her palm and before Vera has a chance to lash out at either of them, her body goes still.

Vera's eyes narrow at Ivan, who has his hands raised, attention entirely honed on her.

"I said stand down, both of you." The same cool voice comes from behind them, and dimly, Vera thinks that only the Darkling would have the audacity to sound bored of their antics in the middle of the Fold when volcra are coming for them.

He turns his granite eyes on Vera. "Let's go," He says and the command leaves no room for discussion as her body relaxes, slipping free from Ivan's control.

Vera does not move.

From behind her, Ivan grips her shoulders and shakes her roughly. Like she's a doll. "Didn't you hear, Alekson? We're moving." He snaps.

For a moment that feels infinite but cannot have been more than a heartbeat or two, Vera stares at the Darkling. Later, she will wonder if he realizes that this is the moment, she knew. Knew that she felt nothing for him but hate. No more devotion, or loyalty, or respect.

She will wonder if he knows that this is the moment, something rotten and lethal settles within her with cold determination.

A reminder and a decision all at once.

Because the Darkling might be a wolf, but he is not the only one. Vera is a wolf, too. She is going to bring her jaws around the Darkling's neck. And when time was right, she would show them all that even the wolves of this world bled like the sheep.

Vera bows her head slightly at the Darkling. "Yes, moi soverennyi."

AUTHOR'S NOTE
welcome back everyone!!! this is a rather uneventful one but important as an introduction into this brave new world we're in now 🤪🤪

i also would like to issue a formal apology to vaugn, you will be missed 😔✋ i did not like doing it but you had to die for my plans for vera to happen. at least this way we got to see you one time so that's at least something