IT TOOK HOURS for the sticky feeling to be washed from Freya's skin – hours of scrubbing herself with a sponge and dunking herself in water that was tainted red. And yet, she still felt like there was tar coating every inch of her, even if the initial dirtiness was gone. By the time her hair was brushed and dried and her clothing was fresh and clean, the feeling was almost completely gone. But it still ate away at her mind.

As she tossed and turned, she couldn't get rid of the feeling of despair clawing at her insides. There was no sleep to be found that night, no matter how hard she tried. How could she sleep when all that she saw when she closed her eyes was Luca's glassy eyes, empty of all things that he was made up of? It didn't feel real that he was alive. His heart was beating and his lungs were expanding, but Freya felt as though they weren't. As though the boy sleeping in a room a few feet away from her was just a rotting corpse that everyone dressed up and lied to themselves about.

In the morning, when she looked in the mirror, there were vivid black marks beneath her reddened eyes. Zoya came to see her, and Freya expected some form of reprieve from the horrible thoughts and feelings inside her head, but even Zoya couldn't jest about what happened. She stood behind Freya at her vanity, running a brush through her silky pale hair without a word.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked eventually when Freya's hair was braided and she was dressed in an Etherealki blue blouse. No kefta for her that day. She didn't think she could take it. Freya didn't answer, couldn't answer. Her eyes strayed to the wilting blooms of crimson clover on her table. There was little comfort to be found in them now.

"Throw those away, please," she said instead of answering, then turned to the door. She didn't see Zoya for the rest of the day. Hiding in the library with a book in her lap was more manageable than speaking to anyone. No one cared to approach her there, having the decency to not interrupt her reading – she wasn't reading, her eyes only stared at the words. The hours passed, breakfast and lunch were forgotten, and then the sun was setting.

Freya lurked in the halls like a shadow until her mind latched onto something to do. This time it was a door she was all too familiar with. She pushed it open without another thought. The walls of the room were padded with soundproof foam that the Durasts. Silence, pure silence. Freya relished in it, inhaling the stiff air of the training room made specifically for her.

She didn't spend much time there either. The lack of food caught up to her eventually, so she stole away towards the dining hall. It was late and very few people sat at the tables. There was only one person that Freya cared to talk to. She took the food from the Etherealki table, ignoring the questioning looks from those sitting there, and walked over to the one Materialki still in the hall.

"How are you, David," she asked as she sat down. The Durast looked up at her, shocked at the approach. His eyes flitted from her to the Etherealki table behind her, but he didn't say anything.  Freya cared little for decorum then and cared even less for the strange separation of Grisha orders. Especially after what happened the night before. She needed to be with someone then, and the Summoners she rarely talked to wouldn't be enough.

David was a strange person, quiet and quirky at the best of times, and he was precisely what Freya needed at that moment. His brilliant mind would provide a distraction for her, of that she had no doubt.

"I'm alright," David answered, his voice unsure. He cleared his throat, looking down at the open journal in front of him. Freya couldn't make out what the words said – David's haphazard scrawl was difficult to read even when he tried to make it neat, and only Luca could ever seem to make it out. Freya's mind lurched to a stop at the sudden invading thought, and she pushed it away. She didn't want to think of Luca, but now that he'd emerged from the depths of her exhausted mind, she couldn't get rid of him.

And so she asked, "Have you been to see Luca?" David looked up again briefly, but his attention was brought back down to his journal. His fingers tapped rapidly at the table, sometimes twitching and interrupting the rhythm.

"The General doesn't want anyone there," he answered, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "But yes. Luca wanted to see me." Freya wasn't at all surprised that out of all people, the General allowed David to see his son. There wasn't anyone more harmless than David, especially to Luca who'd been his closest friend and the only person who seemed to understand his ramblings. He would provide a good distraction to him too, no doubt bringing up some theory or project he was working on.

"That's good." David didn't bother to answer.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Three weeks later, Freya finally summoned enough courage. Late in the afternoon, the sky outside was shrouded in grey clouds roiling over the hills, threatening the land with rain and lightning. The same bleakness coloured the halls of the Little Palace, as if the Saints had taken a brush and painted the world over with black and white.

Surprisingly, the corridor that contained Luca's room – just a corner turn from Freya's – was empty of all life. Only one guard stood by Luca's room, though it was more than enough. The look on his face could chase away the bravest of warriors, and it would've made Freya doubt her intentions had she not known him her entire life.

"Ivan," she greeted, wringing her hands together as she approached. The stoic-faced Heartrender looked down at her without feeling, an expression she was all too used to seeing. There was only one person that ever made his mask break, and Fedyor was most likely guarding the General. It was no surprise that Ivan had been chosen to protect Luca. Very few people earned the General's trust as much as Ivan had.

"He is sleeping," Ivan answered without any greeting, straightening his back. Freya faltered, then flexed her fingers. The rippling of air inside Luca's room – produced by endless pacing and movement – was a welcome sound.

"He isn't," she stated, lifting her chin in the smallest defiance. "I only want to see that he's alright. I won't take long." Ivan did not move, and frustration flared in her chest. "You allow David to see him, but not me?"

"David is... David." That was an answer in and of itself, Freya supposed. Before she could answer Ivan and argue with him further, the door to Luca's room cracked open the smallest margin. Freya's breath hitched as the gleam of Luca's quartz irises showed through the crack, the pale skin around it almost luminous in the bleak light. A waft of hot air escaped the room.

"Let her in," Luca commanded, his voice grated by a rough rasp, as if he hadn't drank any water in days. He stepped away from the door, leaving it open. There was a moment of silence as Ivan stared at it, then he sighed and nodded to Freya. She didn't wait even a second before she slipped into the room.

The hot air she'd felt before hit her in the face, then enveloped her body in an uncomfortable layer. Her skin screamed at the furnace-like atmosphere and she instantly began to sweat. The source of the heat – a large roaring fire – blazed in the hearth on the opposite side of the room. Freya quickly unbuttoned her kefta, but the exposed shirt underneath was still a layer too much and stuck to her skin from the sweat.

"Djel, open the windows! It's suffocating in her," she gasped, fanning her face with her hand. Luca shook his head, turning his back to her. It was then that she noticed what he was wearing. A thick woollen sweater was pulled high up his neck, covering everything up to his jaw, a blanket was hung over his shoulders, adding another thick layer onto him. Long, loose pants hung off his hips. And his hands... he was wearing gloves.

"I can't," Luca breathed, drawing the blanket further around himself. Freya furrowed her brows. She took a small step towards him, an uneasy feeling settling deep in her gut. "Saints, Freya, I'm so cold."

Freya blinked at him, unsure of how he could possibly be cold when she felt like she was boiling alive. The air burned her nose and lungs when she inhaled it. It was stifling. But as she moved closer to Luca, she could tell that wasn't the case for him. He was visibly shaking, violent tremors coursing through his body. Freya's frown deepened.

Uncertainty made her pause in her approach. Maybe it was too soon for her to see him, something in the back of her mind whispered. Luca's heart had stopped beating, surely it took more than three weeks to recover from that. Already, she could see that was the case. He couldn't stand still, constantly shifting on his feet. Now and then, his gloved hand twitched towards his wrist.

It did just then, so violently fast that Freya almost missed it. After a few moments, it did again, this time staying there, pressed tightly against the barely exposed skin. It wasn't until Freya looked at it long enough that she noticed the dark blue and green splotches littering his wrist. There were a dozen of them at least, all small and round, the exact shape of his fingers. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve.

"What are you doing? You're hurting yourse-" The moment her skin skirted his, everything inside of her burned bright with power. It lasted only a few seconds before she lurched away from him, folding her arm close to her chest, but it felt like a thousand tongues of fire licking at her from the inside, clawing at her and begging to get out. Only after she caught her breath did she realise her ears were ringing and that the sound around her fluctuating, shaking the very glass panes of the windows.

The door burst open as Ivan rushed in, but Freya didn't bother to turn to him even as he gripped her by the shoulders and dragged her away. All she could look at was Luca's face twisted in terror, a thousand feelings behind his tear-glazed quartz eyes. He pivoted away from her, gloved hands burying themselves in his hands as he began to pull, letting out sounds that were a broken mix of gasps and sobs. Freya couldn't fight against Ivan's brute strength as he hauled her out the door.

"Get out," he commanded, slamming the door shut in her face. The sudden silence in the corridor was deafening, laying heavy on her ears. The strange burst of power died down inside of her, the wildfire turning into a low simmer. She stayed there, gasping for breath and listening to the muffled sounds of Luca's crying behind the door.

When she turned around, she nearly jumped out of her skin. David was standing there, arms hung loosely at his sides. For the first time in her life, she noticed he wasn't twitching. He was focused directly on her, not distracted by anything.

"You felt it, didn't you?" he asked, eyes trained on the arm still folded close to her chest. Her fingers still tingled from where they'd grazed Luca's skin. She knew what David was asking, what he'd undoubtedly felt himself three weeks ago when he'd visited Luca. A thousand times after that, maybe. There weren't any words that came to mind as she tried to explain it to herself. None at all. She had never felt such a burst of power, not even during her first day at the Little Palace when the General dragged his clawed ring down her forearm to bring her power forward. 

Freya nodded, exhaling a heavy, "Yes."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The General reassigned her that very night. The order came just after the ninth hour struck, held in the hands of a cold-faced oprichnik and delivered directly to her door. Freya accepted it without argument.

When morning came, she was ready to leave. The sky was still grey and threatening, but her horse was saddled and supplies for her journey back north were packed. Servants handed them to her the second she stepped from the gate. Only a few other Grisha were accompanying her this time. She couldn't help but wonder if the timing of her reassignment was just a coincidence, or if all of these people were going into danger because of her. She prayed to all the Fjerdan gods it was the former, but her gut said something else entirely.

Zoya came out to bid her farewell, hugging her close. "Don't die." Sarcasm laced her tone, but Freya knew that it wasn't a joke. "If I receive news of any injury, I will personally kick your ass." Freya forced a laugh and nodded.

"Likewise," she said, "you're going back to the Shu border soon right?" Zoya nodded, pushing a lock of raven hair behind her ear and crossing her arms over her chest. "Get me a present down there then. So I have something to look forward to." Zoya grinned and nodded.

"I'll get you the most ridiculous Shu thing I can get my hands on." Her eyes sparkled as she chuckled. A cold wind pressed into them, making Freya shudder. She looked off to the other Grisha. They still had a little bit of time, but only a few minutes before she had to depart. She found that she ached at the thought.

"I'll hold you to that," she said, raising her brows.

Zoya tilted her head. "Good. I'll see you then."

A/N

I'm sorry it took me so long to write this chapter! I broke my ankle a few weeks ago (yay) and I've been too lazy to do anything with all the meds I'm taking.

There's only one more chapter left in Act I! I'm super excited to finish it and continue on to the second part of the story.

This would be a good time to have you guys vote on what source material you want me to follow:

Books

Show

I don't mind either and I'll probably do both at some point (or I might even mix it honestly because I really missed some of the book elements in the show), but I want to know what you guys prefer!