Of Many Names And Faces

Fanfic reader and writer Author of the Specter series of Bad Batch fanfiction New account! I got hacked😭

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Masterlist

Fire in the Water

An Overglorified Secretary

Animals in Suits

All Kinds of Sick

Acetone

Fete of Them All

Blue in the Face

The Old Way

Fists on Fire

Again But Different: A Ketterdam Reprise

Luck Be A Lady

20%

Curtain Call

Tea: the Cure for Emotional Hangovers

Raku(t)

Prince and Princess

Mostly

The Specter Series

The Clone Wars

The Bad Batch

A Distant Echo

On the Wings of Keerdaks

Unfinished Business

The Bad Batch: Specter

Aftermath

Cut and Run

Replacements

Cornered

Rampage

Decommissioned

Battle Scars

Reunion

Bounty Lost

Common Ground

Devil's Deal

Rescue on Ryloth

Infested

War Mantle

Return to Kamino

Kamino Lost

The Bad Batch: Valkyrie

Spoils of War

Ruins of War

The Solitary Clone (part 1)

The Solitary Clone (part 2)

The Pilgrimage

Entombed

Tribe

Truth and Consequences

The Crossing

Retrieval

Metamorphosis

The Outpost

Pabu

Tipping Point

The Summit

Plan 99

The Bad Batch: Ragnarok

Confined

Paths Unknown

Shadows of Tantiss

A Different Approach

The Return

Infiltration

Extraction

Bad Territory

The Harbinger

Identity Crisis

Point of No Return

Juggernaut

Into the Breach

Flash Strike

The Cavalry Has Arrived (part 1)

The Cavalry Has Arrived (part 2)

Valhalla

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Chapter 9: Again But Different: A Ketterdam Reprise

"Reprise": the repetition or reiteration of the opening material later in a composition; a repeated passage in music.

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, panic attack, violence and gore (like John Wick mode)

“Home sweet home.”

Jesper opened his arms as the crew entered their territory of the Barrel. Lorna agreed with his sentiment, it was good to be on solid ground and away from the Fold. She missed the air filled with gunsmoke and salt water, the sounds of barkers trying to draw in tourists, and the energy of trouble in the night. 

“Straight off the boat from Ravka and no one was waiting to kill us as soon as we arrived. Yay! That’s a good sign!” Jesper cheered, trying fruitlessly to lift Kaz’s mood.

“Ugh, Jesper you just jinxed it,” Lorna muttered. She may have been eager for a fight, but not that eager. Even Inej shook her head at his antics.

“Oh it’s fine,” he waved her off, “I’ll take back the night with a little dice and debauchery.”

“No debauchery,” said Kaz.

“Dice then.”

“No dice. We have stops to make,” Kaz stopped him again. Lorna didn’t blame him; she, too, wanted to get back to business and put all of their troubles from Ravka far behind them. 

“What’s first? Tante Heleen?” asked Inej.

“We get to the Crow Club.”

Well, they arrived at the same building, but it wasn’t the Crow Club. The crowds were different, the guards and barkers were unfamiliar faces, and the most obvious change-

“Where’s our sign?” asked Jesper. A green circle with a Kaelish knot and crown had replaced the metal crow. Lorna felt as though she were in a fever dream.

“It’s been replaced,” Kaz stated the obvious.

“‘The Kaelish Prince’?” Inej read the sign with a sneer. 

“What sort of name is that?” Jesper wondered aloud. Lorna spotted a tattoo on one of the doormen.

“Dime Lions,” she hissed. This was bad news. Pekka Rollins had moved very fast in their absence, somehow finding a way to seize all their assets and, if he was unable to turn them, kill anyone who was loyal to Kaz. While Inej and Jesper fretted, Lorna looked to Kaz for guidance, only to find him staring hard onto the ground. Was he trembling? It was rare to see him off his game, but had Rollins truly caught them so off guard?

“Kaz?” she spoke his name. He blinked hard.

“Split up. It’s not safe,” was all he managed to say, taking only a step back before a whistle pierced the air. 

“Halt!” someone ordered. “You four, hands up!” They all obliged as a stadwatch constable and his men appeared, guns drawn, outnumbering them. It looked like Constable Sem. Great. 

“Kaz Brekker. Jesper Fahey. Lorna Solovey. And Inej Ghafa,” he listed triumphantly. “Only a matter of time before you turned up.”

“Long time no see, Constable,” Lorna waved. He hadn’t changed much since he last arrested her some odd years ago, except now he was under Rollin’s payroll.

“Is there a problem?” asked Kaz. 

“For you? Yeah. You’re wanted for murder.” 

Lorna’s eyes bugged out of her head, more than surprised at the charges. Even if she had committed the crime, she wouldn’t be sloppy about it.

“What? We just got back in town,” Jesper groaned, instinctively putting his hands on his hips. The guards trained their guns on him, reminding Jesper to keep his hands in the air. “Unless it’s a crime to kill volcra?”

“Very funny, gunslinger. Now, slowly, hand over those shooters,” said the constable. Jesper carefully removed his revolvers from his belt, handing them over to an awaiting officer. Another one snatched Kaz’s walking stick. “And you. Give up the cane.” 

The officer closest to Lorna looked her over, running his tongue over his teeth. She scowled.

“What about Solovey? Want me to frisk her?” he said with a grin.

“Don’t bother,” the constable thankfully stopped him. “You want to defang the snake? Be my guest.” Lorna mimicked a serpent and hissed at the guard, he flinched and took a step back. At least her meager reputation was enough to deter him, otherwise he would have caught the spike in her sleeve or the brass knuckles colliding with his jaw. Saints forbid if they found out she was Grisha. “And you, spy…”

The constable turned to Inej, only to find that she had disappeared. 

“Oi! Where’d she go?”

“Yeah, she does that,” said Jesper with a smile. Lorna had to do a double-take; she could have sworn she was there only a second ago. Perhaps it was best that she was still unable to detect the Wraith’s coming and going, it would make her less of a liability.

“Three’s enough for now. Come on,” the constable shook his head, motioning to his guards. “Off to Hellgate to await trial.”

Each of them were placed in cuffs and dragged over to the prisoner wagon. It was crowded enough as it was, but Lorna was shoved into a seat next to Jesper, across from Kaz. She held her breath, trying to regulate her senses; there were too many different smells and things touching her, variations of body heat were overwhelming. The only thing keeping her grounded was Jesper’s exasperated rambling.

“‘Let’s all go back to Ketterdam. It’ll be fun,’ they said. Now I’m off to Hellgate. Hellgate,” he went on. Lorna rolled her eyes, but ultimately, couldn’t blame him for worrying. She had been in the local jail after committing some minor infraction—being high out of her mind and caught was a crime enough—but the island prison was an entirely different environment. Even so, she wouldn’t waste her time pitying any poor soul who wound up there. They’d escape, they’d have to.

In front of her, Kaz suddenly bowed his head with a sharp breath. His eyes were wide and unfocused. Jesper became mere background noise as the wagon hit a bump in the road and the man next to Kaz put a hand on his leg to brace himself. Kaz practically keeled over.

“Kaz?” Lorna whispered.

“Boss?” Jesper finally noticed his condition. “Kaz?”

He only coughed in response, his breath ragged. Jesper pounded on the walls, pleading for them to stop the wagon despite the protest of the other prisoners. This was worse than before, in front of the Kaelish Prince. But she had her own share of panic attacks, granted, the majority of them were drug induced. Lorna sat forward in her seat, her knees only an inch away from his; she leaned in, trying to make sure he saw her.

“Kaz? Can you hear me?” She spoke low and gently, making an effort to keep her voice steady and devoid of her own panic. “It’s just me, Kaz, I’m right here. There’s no one else, just you and me.”

Slowly, his breathing began to settle. 

“Everything you feel, every bit of pressure and air: turn it off. Feel absolutely nothing. Just focus on me and focus on your breathing.”

He seemed to obey, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers, pupils dilating as his breath finally caught up to him. He nodded in silent appreciation. She returned the gesture. Lorna didn’t even realize the wagon had stopped until Constable Sem opened the door and pointed at them.

“You three. Out,” he ordered.

“Gentlemen,” Jesper looked to the other prisoners, “it’s been a pleasure.” Lorna scoffed as he eagerly made his way out of the wagon. She followed him, patiently waiting for Kaz to join them before they were pushed toward a very familiar looking house. 

Kaz forced himself to maintain steady breaths as the three of them were pushed into the office. Lorna had helped him more than he could ever express, so he would give his thanks in moving forward. He didn’t even allow himself to worry about Inej, knowing she would stick to the shadows and gather information. All that mattered to him now was getting out of whatever new situation they were in. 

“What’s all this?” asked Lorna as they were forced down into velvet chairs, shrugging off whoever’s hand was on her back.

“Somebody paid good kruge to spend some time alone with you three,” the constable explained. As if on cue, the door opened and a man with his own security walked in.

“Criminals.” Ah, of course.

“Dreesen,” Kaz realized, clenching his jaw. He really didn’t want to deal with the mercher, but it was better than being cramped in a wagon to Hellgate. The man looked the three of them over before turning to the constable.

“Ten minutes alone.” He produced a stack of kruge. “Out you go.” Just like that, the stadwatch left, closing the door behind them and leaving the Crows with Dreesen and three of his men. 

“Did you redecorate?” Lorna asked, looking around the room. 

“No…?” Dreesen wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Oh, so it was always this ugly,” she sneered. Kaz agreed, it was as though Dreesen didn’t like the color of his walls but instead of repainting it, he simply covered it up with every gaudy thing he could find; it was distracting, much like Lorna’s words. She knew to start working on getting out of her cuffs. He would do the same.

“For the love of- are you going to tell me what happened?” the mercher asked, peeved at having his time wasted.

“We’ve been framed for murder?” said Jesper on the other side of her, raising his cuffed hands.

“I’m not asking about that. Where is Alina Starkov?” Dreesen scoffed.

“We don’t have her,” Kaz answered.

“Obviously,” Lorna muttered. 

While Dreesen went on, complaining about their audacity to return empty-handed, Kaz went to work, looking over each of the guards. There was something more here, more than just another greedy merchant. He had mulled it over before, but now there was a shot at finding proof.

Lorna cleared her throat, careful not to alert Dreesen, but enough for Kaz to glance. Her head was tilted at one of the guards, his shoes too clean, face too bright. That and the emerald green cufflink on his coat.

“Clearly you must have something of value to me, or else you would not have dared-”

“It wasn’t your money, Dreesen,” Kaz interrupted the man. “You were brought in as an intermediary. Someone to hire the likes of us. But this operation wasn’t yours.”

Sometimes, it was really satisfying being right. This must have been how Lorna felt. Kaz turned his attention to the mysterious man.

“It was his. Wasn’t it?”

“Outrageous!” Dreesen cried, but the ruse was already up.

“Yes, totally convincing,” the man spoke up, breaking out of his character and stepping up to the mercher, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Dreesen, but I’ll take it from here.” 

The older man remained stunned in place.

“That was me politely telling you to get out. So go on,” the man’s smile dropped as he nodded toward the door. Dreesen scoffed and finally took his leave, his own men following. The man took off his hat, and walked about the room like it was his own. “Well, this is much easier. Tell me, what gave it away?”

“You dress too well for a bodyguard,” Lorna answered. He smiled to himself and held out his arms.

“Like what you see, darling?” He gave a charming smile. But Lorna only shrugged, clearly not impressed.

“Not really.” Jesper and the stranger sported surprised looks. The man had a charming visage and he knew it; even Kaz agreed with their confusion. “What? I’m not into blonds,” explained Lorna. 

“Aside from that,” Kaz moved on, “you were hanging on every word like it was your money on the table. You wanted to hear our story, but we don’t know you. We know him.” Kaz nodded to the door where Dreesen had exited. “So you kept up the charade until now.”

“That’s the gist of it,” Lorna nodded in agreement.

“My question is, who are you?” Kaz asked.

“What? You don’t know me? Maybe in profile.” The blond turned to the side and posed, as if that would explain everything. Kaz glanced at Jesper and Lorna, neither of them showing any recognition, only bafflement at his display. 

“What? No?” The man seemed genuinely surprised. He gave up the act and introduced himself. “Very well. The name’s Sturmhond.”

“I’ve heard of you!” said Jesper before turning to Kaz and Lorna. “He’s a very rich pirate.”

“A privateer, actually. It’s an important distinction,” Sturmhond quickly corrected. 

“I’m sure it is, but it doesn’t answer the question of why the Sun Summoner is so important to a privateer,” Lorna pressed. 

“You may not be aware, but half the world is looking for her. Or even just confirmation of death. And the reward’s gone up.” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his coat, revealing a wanted-poster of the Darkling and Alina joining forces. “Twenty million to hand her over to Fjerda. Turns out they weren’t particularly pleased with Kirigan and the Sun Summoner’s plan to weaponize the Fold.”

“Alina never had such-” Jesper scoffed and chuckled before stopping himself and clearing his throat. “You were saying?”

It was too late, he had already advertised their connection to the Sun Summoner. Lorna hung her head in disappointment. 

“You’re on first-name terms,” Sturmhond said with a smile. “Where is she now?” 

“Well, go on, Jesper. Since you’re so fond of sharing,” Lorna nudged his foot. He rolled his eyes and groaned.

“We don’t know where Alina is. She’s gone,” he answered, throwing his still-cuffed hands. Sturmhond scoffed, not buying their story. Kaz had to hand it to him, the pirate was smart. 

“Escaped?” he wondered aloud with a raised brow. The blond’s gaze turned to Kaz and Lorna. “I know you’ve gotten out of those cuffs. If I had time, I’d insist you tell me how.”

Kaz sighed and removed the cuffs from his wrists, dropping them onto the floor. His lockpick tools made escaping easy, though he didn’t know how Lorna managed to do the same. Perhaps heating the mechanism just enough to damage it, though it seemed too easy for Lorna’s sake.

“They were so uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to be rude,” she muttered, massaging her wrists and leaning back in her chair. “Do continue.”

“My intel informs me the Sun Summoner was wearing this when she entered the Fold.” He pulled out the bejeweled necklace Alina had given them. Kaz mentally cursed; a few weeks in a foreign country and they had lost their edge. “It’s part of the Queen’s collection. A well-known piece, the fabled garnets of Ivets. So, either she used this to pay you off to keep quiet about where she was going, or you found her bloody corpse and stole it off her neck like vultures.”

“How dare you? How even-” Jesper gawked, stunned at the idea that they could be so heartless. “We are not vultures, we are crows. And that makes more sense with context.”

“Blame this one for his obsession with the birds,” Lorna jutted her thumb over at Kaz.

“Not unlike your obsession with snakes,” he retorted. 

“My point is,” Jesper cut both of them off before they could argue any further, “we are not grave robbers.”

“So you know where she went,” Sturmhond deduced. Kaz lowered his head, still trying to think of what to do next. This pirate was smart, almost at Kaz’s level; he wouldn’t fall for any trickery. But he could not deduce his character, the mask he wore was deep and intricate, getting a read on him was like trying to be warm in the northern region of Fjerda… though it was not entirely impossible. He glanced at Lorna, barely inclining his head toward Sturmhond. She stared at him and pursed her lips, wrinkling her nose. Kaz would defer to her judgement.

“Now if you tell me, I’ll give you twenty seconds alone here before the stadwatch comes back in,” Sturmhond offered. Jesper scoffed.

“You can’t bribe us,” he said, smiling at the mere idea.

“Leave the necklace. Give us twenty seconds and I’ll tell you,” Kaz said quickly.

“Kaz?” Jesper breathed, surprised to say the least. Lorna lifted her head and cracked her neck; he had made the right decision. The blond chuckled.

“The bribe she paid you to keep quiet about her next move, in exchange for her next move. I like it.” He was clearly impressed with his audacity. “Still, there is the mess of having to fence Royal jewels.”

The icing on the cake: a thick stack of kruge to sweeten the deal. Lorna, as always, was right in her judgement of people. While any kind of pirate is not trustworthy, they could at least get something out of him. Jesper said his name again, this time with more reverence, practically drooling at the sight of the cash.

“You both stepped off the Edam tonight. Was she with you then? Is she in town somewhere?” asked Sturmhond. 

“She stayed on the ship to Novyi Zem,” Lorna answered. Sturmhond smiled and nodded, turning to make his leave. He set the necklace and cash on the desk before grabbing his hat and turning back to the three of them. 

“Good luck. Gentlemen. Sweetheart.” Finally, he left the room.

“I wonder if that actually works for him,” said Lorna, scrunching her face in disgust. Kaz shook his head and joined her, pocketing the cash and necklace. 

“Any help with these?” Jesper held up his still-cuffed hands. Kaz let Lorna have the honor of tossing him a small metal trinket from the desk. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Lorna cocked her head to the side. Kaz only glanced at him from the corner of his eye. It was enough for Jesper to hang his head in what Kaz could only describe as shame.

“You knew,” he said, just above a whisper.

“About you being a Durast? Come on, Jesper, as if I wouldn’t be able to figure it out,” Lorna crossed her arms. “It takes someone who’s hiding that they’re Grisha to know when someone else is doing the same.”

“To add more practical evidence,” Kaz continued, standing in front of the man, “your gun misfired in Arken’s train. You fixed it without moving. You repaired my cane with no tools. And when you shoot, you never miss. Of course I knew,” he explained with a growing smirk. Jesper glared between the two of them and stood up, turning the piece of metal in his fist into a lockpick.

“Let’s leave it at that. Yeah?” he asked, for once, sounding serious.

“I have no interest in letting others in on your secret,” Kaz nodded. It was true, but he hoped Jesper wouldn’t take advantage of his own honesty. He simply handed over the bag.

“But it’s so easy to spill the beans on Lorna and Alina?” he replied, raising a brow. Kaz inclined his head; unlike Lorna’s, he had no need for Jesper’s secret Grisha status. 

“He’d already deduced it,” Kaz replied to his point about Alina. Really, the whole thing with Sturmhond was rather embarrassing; very few had the capacity to match his intelligence, and it was bad enough that Lorna was already in the room. “He knew the name of the ship that we were coming in on. The best we could do is get our money back. Lorna, get the door.”

She followed his line of thinking and went to the door, using her heat to weld it shut, while Kaz went on working to get the window open.

“And Alina? She’s half a day ahead and he’s a pirate. We should warn her,” said Jesper.

“How?” Kaz barked. “And where do you intend to post a warning? She could be anywhere by now. We have enough on our plate here.”

“Hush, please, I’m concentrating,” Lorna spoke up, focusing on a small, bright blue flame from her finger. “You should be too, Jesper. I can hear their footsteps.” A second later, she practically jumped away from the door, just as it began to rattle from the stadwatch trying to fight their way inside. There was no time for Lorna to relish in the fact that, as always, she was right, as the three of them escaped out of the open window.

“We are in the literal bottom of the Barrel,” Jesper, once again, complained.

“Stadwatch don’t patrol down here. We’re safer,” Kaz explained, even though he agreed with Jesper’s distaste for the filth on the streets. ‘Dirtyhands’ meant that he got the rough work done, not that he was accustomed to dirt. Lorna’s head was on a swivel, but even with her keen eye, she and Jesper both startled as Inej appeared from the shadows. “Inej, what did you find?”

“We’re accused of murdering Tante Heleen.”

“Wait, what?”

“Shit!” Jesper and Lorna, respectively, exclaimed. Kaz was surprised as well, but it began to make sense. Damn affection, he had really been off his game to have not seen this coming in time to prepare. 

“We didn’t do that, though. Wait, did you do that?” Jesper turned to Inej. She only scrunched her face in response.

“It was Pekka Rollins, wasn’t it?” asked Kaz, even though he already knew the answer. “He framed us for murder.”

“He wanted to punish us for taking the job after he warned you off,” she said. 

“But why take it out on Tante Heleen?” Jesper wondered. 

“She held the deed to the Crow Club,” Lorna answered before Kaz could, crossing her arms and facing him with an expectant glare; it was the very same look she had on the night they left Ketterdam, when he had given Heleen the deed to the very business they had worked hard to grow. “He cut a deal so we could get Inej to help us with the Sun Summoner, so Rollins killed her.”

“He owns the club and has control over our territory. Everyone who works there now works for Pekka Rollins,” Inej confirmed. Kaz shook his head, disappointed in himself. He had been so focused on getting Inej with them to Ravka, that he didn’t even think that Pekka would make a move. “There’s more.” Inej’s voice wavered. She pulled up her sleeve, running a thumb over the peacock feather tattoo. 

“The Menagerie,” Kaz realized. Fuck. 

“He owns that now, too. Along with everything else the Menagerie owns.” There had to be something he could do. Inej needed to get out of here before Pekka got his claws on her, before she realized that he broke his promise to free her. He fished through his pockets, trying to find some way to fix it.

“So, stadwatch are everywhere and Pekka’s untouchable. Never thought I missed the Fold,” said Jesper, exasperated. 

“Keep in mind, you can’t cuddle Barnaby this time,” Lorna mumbled, kicking at the dirt on the cobblestone ground. At least he could trust Lorna to hold her own here, but Inej… he wouldn’t allow it. He handed her the stack of kruge Sturmhond had left him. 

“What’s this for?” Inej asked.

“We aren’t the only ones under a false accusation,” he said. “Your Saint has a new bounty on her head. This time from Fjerda.” 

“They think she’s in cahoots with the Darkling,” Jesper added. 

“This is your ticket to go and protect her. Go to Third Harbor. Find a stevedore named Jari. He’ll put you on a cargo ship out of here.” He couldn’t bear to look at her. 

“You’re sending me away?” she questioned. 

“I promised you freedom.”

“This isn’t freedom, Kaz,” she held up the cash, appalled. “My indentured contract is owned by Pekka-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kaz cut her off, finally looking at her. It was a mistake. Those deep eyes made him want to fall to his knees and apologize for every wrong thing he had done just for the chance to be worthy of her. They made him regret pushing her away because he couldn’t. For a second, he glanced at Lorna, her face contorted in confusion. Did she know? He shook his head. “It isn’t your fight now. It’s mine.”

Every day he expected to wake up alone, even now, as he walked away. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Inej called after him. He stopped in his tracks, Jesper, Lorna, and Inej catching up with him. “Not now. What happens to Saints is fate. What happens here is up to us.”

She held out the kruge he had given her. She would not waver. With a huff, he grabbed the money and shoved it back in his coat pocket.

“Fine, but stay in the shadows. All three of you,” said Kaz. “We reconvene in two bells at the end of Rozenstraat. Look for a workshop around the back. Lorna, make sure you have your kit before then.”

“That’s all fine but where are you going?” she asked after him as he started to walk away again. 

“I need a Heartrender for what comes next. One who isn’t already owned by Pekka.”

As much of a disaster their homecoming turned out to be, Lorna was thankful to simply be back on the job, doing what she did best. She walked with purpose through the southern end of the Financial District; she had to plan her next moves quickly but carefully if she was to gather her forgery supplies.

Her kit, last she knew, was hidden away within a small street lined with vendors selling stationary supplies, coin purses, and the like. As well as information. Secretaries, runners, and other low-level workers gathered secrets all the time and were willing to exchange them for the right price. But Lorna had no interest in their wares yet, all she wanted was to grab her kit and get out before the Dime Lions spotted her. 

She wasn’t going to let Pekka Rollins get away with this, for all their sakes. The items had accumulated with her skill, and she was not willing to start over, not with Dime Lions on the prowl with the ability to see how she managed her trade and certainly not when Kaz needed her the most. 

With a breath, she slinked away from the corner and joined the flow of foot-traffic down each of the stalls until she came upon a man selling stamps and wax seals.

“Back on the scene, eh Lorna?” he said with a grin before breaking into a coughing fit, the result of smoking a pipe seemingly every hour. 

“Just here to pick up my order, Willem,” she curtly replied. The old man nodded of course and reached under his table. 

“Things ‘ave been pretty rough ‘round ‘ere,” he said, digging through his items.

“I can imagine,” she muttered, watching their surroundings out of the corner of her eye. “Our deal still good?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” He hoisted her briefcase onto the table, even wiping off the thin layer of dust that had accumulated. “You’ve brought me good business, and you appreciate the craft. It’s my honor to be a little fly on the wall,” Willem tapped the side of his nose. Lorna resisted a smile.

“Then you might want to buzz off before things get messy,” she warned, just as the group of men ambled toward her.

“Well, look who it is, fellas,” a gruff voice announced. She didn’t reward them with a reaction, merely grabbing her case and slowly turning to face them. Their forearms were free, displaying their tattoos with pride. Dime Lions.

Well, shit.

“Brekker’s little office girl. How about you come back with us to see the boss, eh?” one with an unkempt beard offered with a grin. Issak, his name was.

“I’m afraid I’m on a tight schedule, gentlemen. It would be best for all of us if I could grab my things and be on my way,” she replied, keeping herself calm. It wasn’t enough to deter them, they only chuckled. Lorna looked each of them over, assessing.

“Sorry, love. Can’t let you go crawling back to Brekker, now, can we?” Yourie, the smallest of the three said. The crowd had parted and formed a curious circle around them, not allowing anyone to escape without shame. Any other option to avoid the mess would take too long.

“Let’s at least make this quick,” Lorna said with a huff as she set down her case and began to roll up her sleeves, the snake scales and crow feathers that adorned her forearms out in the air, matching theirs. The men chuckled again; they must have been complete idiots if they had come underestimating her. She could use the knives they flashed to spread butter on her bread, they were that small. This entire ordeal would be nothing but tedious.

Lorna let Kobus—a taller, darker skinned man with a perpetual frown—approach her. He growled. In a split second, she coiled and struck, using her hand to chop at his throat. He gagged and stumbled back while the others charged. Issak wrapped his arms around her torso while Yourie drew his knife and charged; she kicked him away into the crowd and used the momentum to kick her leg back and up, right into Issak’s groin. He cried out and loosened his grasp, enough for Lorna to slip out and knee him in the face. He fell back with blood dripping down his nose and into his beard.

Distracted by her victory, Kobus threw himself at her, sending both of them onto the ground. Lorna grunted from the impact and reached up to try and pull him off by his hair. It wasn’t enough, he turned and straddled her, punching her just once. Instinctively, she reached out and found a pencil in her grasp; she swung and jammed it into his ear.

Blood splashed down as he cried out in pain. Lorna had no time to savor it, kicking him off and rolling out of the way just as Issak went to stomp on her. She hoisted herself up, donned her brass-knuckles, and threw a punch, he swiped it away and returned it. In their exchange of fists and blood, Yourie stood up and was poised to run at her. Just as he was about to land the punch, Lorna twisted herself around Issak, using him as a shield while simultaneously lining up the tips of her fingers with his spine. Conjuring all the energy in her body, she closed her fist, launching him across the street and into the crowd. Yourie stepped around his comrade and swung his blade, Lorna leaned back just out of his range, leading him toward another one of the stalls. She caught his arm, using the best of her strength to hold him back, but he pushed her against the display, rattling the items.

“You’re fun to play with, little snake. More than Brekker’s Wraith, eh?” he teased, straining. Lorna growled, reaching out and grabbing a loose, hard-cover book from the vendor’s table, using it to catch the knife and switch their positions. She yanked the book and knife out of his grasp before shoving the spine into his mouth, bashing it in over and over until his jaw and teeth broke into pieces and the light faded from his eyes. The blood splatter became a second skin, the screams and gasps from the onlookers, a chorus.

Issak finally came to and pushed himself off the ground, weakly holding up his fists. Lorna thought it was quite pathetic, really, and an utter waste of her time. She marched over to him and enclosed his face with her hand… engulfed in flames. He cried out and fell to his knees as his flesh melted and hair burned.

“Anyone else?” Lorna said aloud, welcoming anyone from the crowd to challenge her, catching her breath. No one dared to murmur or meet her gaze. “No? Alright, then.”

She, finally, grabbed her case and spared her victims and audience one last glance before she left.

“Send Pekka Rollins my love.”

Kaz entered the warehouse, brushing off the residual adrenaline from delivering the package. Lorna would be angry with him, but it wouldn’t match his wrath for everything else.

“So, this novice is telling me that he’s our new demo man,” said Jesper, meeting him on the stairs, unimpressed with Wylan. “Raske is better. Or even Pim.”

“And yet Wylan is the one I hired,” Kaz refuted. He continued on, checking his watch, anxiously waiting for the others to arrive. They didn’t have much time.

“Shouldn’t you be graduating university and, I don’t know, starting a desk job?” 

“Jesper, shouldn’t you be doing that?” Lorna’s voice echoed as she came in, raising a brow at the Zemini. She was covered in blood. “Wylan, is it? Do me a favor and fetch me a towel.”

The boy stuttered but did as he was told. Lorna wiped her face. Kaz wanted to ask about the blood, but Inej had entered just in time.

“You’re here,” he said, almost with a sigh of relief.

“With the new Heartrender,” she nodded, stepping aside for a well-dressed woman to join them. He recognized her from the ship from Os Kervo.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me! Nina Zenik!” Lorna exclaimed, recognizing her as well.

“Lorna Solovey?”

“Nina Zenik?” Inej and Jesper cried simultaneously. Nina ignored the attention and practically flew to Lorna, arms wide for a hug until she held up a bloodied hand, stopping her.

“Ah, ah, I’m covered in blood.”

“Oh, I hardly care.” Nina pushed past and embraced her tightly. Kaz watched as Lorna tensed, eyes wide. She allowed the hug to last a second more—longer than he expected—before pushing her away.

“We were waiting for you in Os Kervo with Arken,” she said. “Then I saw the Druskelle had taken you and- how the hell did you survive?”

“I’ll tell you over a drink,” Nina said with a forced smile. Something he could use, perhaps.

“Did you trust Arken?” Kaz asked.

“That turncoat? Not on your life. He was shadier than an oak at three bells.”

“Then why did you work with him?” asked Jesper.

“It was more of a limited partnership,” she turned her head to him, shrugging.

“What’s your price?” Kaz moved them along. The woman sighed, desperation overtaking her charm.

“I’ve expended the legal avenues on my problem. Every clerk in the city says the same thing. ‘The judge will see you in six months.’”

“And so you’re looking for the not-so-legal route… on what, exactly?”

“I’m told you could free someone from Hellgate.” He turned his gaze to Inej, wondering what prompted her to come up with it. He wasn’t Pekka. “Someone, I say as if he’s anyone, and in truth, he’s the love of my life,” Nina explained, tears forming. 

Lorna scoffed in amusement, a sharp sound like a knife against stone.

“‘The love of your life’?” she echoed. “Oh, fetch a minister! Nina, dearest, you were never the sensible one, were you? Be serious: a love like that doesn’t exist.”

“I am serious, Lorna!” Nina argued, taken aback by her jaded reply. He, himself, was hardened as steel, but even he knew the power and presence of that kind of affection. He dealt with it every time Inej had gotten hurt.

“I can’t get you a release from Hellgate,” said Kaz. Better terrible truths than kind lies. Nina nodded solemnly. “But I can get you a visit. In exchange for your services.”

It was enough. Nina steeled herself and nodded.

“What do you need me for?” she asked. 

Kaz’s gaze flickered between each of their faces, painted with confusion, worry, and determination. Whatever happened from this point on, they would look to him, and he would be held responsible for their lives.

“The aftermath,” he answered before walking up the steps and up to the roof of the warehouse. He heard mumbling from the others following him. They had every right to question him, especially since he barely had a plan. All Kaz knew was that he wanted to get even. That had to be enough for them. He wanted it to be enough for him. 

Kaz led them to the edge of the roof facing the city, watching Lorna out of the corner of his eye as she sucked in a breath, opting to stay a few inches away from the wall. What was about to happen next might erase any progress they had made, but he had promises to keep.

“Brick by brick,” he mumbled into the wind. He felt Inej’s eyes on him, but for once, his wrath was as overpowering as the explosion in the distance.

“What was that?” wondered Jesper.

“The Crow Club,” Inej realized.

Lorna said nothing, but the air around them grew colder. Kaz didn’t blame her. The one place she had felt the most at home, the place that could have been her grave, the place that had been her only grand accomplishment: destroyed by his hand. And he hadn’t told her.

“I had some really nice hats in there,” Jesper whined. He turned to Wylan, angrier now. “Was that yours?”

If Wylan somehow managed to reply past the shock, Kaz didn’t care enough to pay attention. 

“I take it we’re now in the aftermath?” Nina leaned out over Lorna to ask. The Inferni still gazed, almost catatonically, at the plume of smoke.

“This doesn’t help clear our names, Kaz,” Inej scolded. “You’ve just declared war on Pekka Rollins, the King of the Barrel.”

As if he needed a reminder of who he was up against, a reminder of how far his greed and ambition stretched, a reminder of how badly he wanted this. For years he planned and scraped at the recesses of his mind for every and any idea that might help his cause, no matter who distracted him. But in the end he came to a simple truth, one that made it all easier and worthwhile. A truth that even someone like Lorna would agree with.

“The Barrel doesn't belong to Kings,” he said, already turning and walking away. “It belongs to bastards.”

[ashes-2-ashes57cba-ver2]

Chapter 8: Fists on Fire

And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - Dylan Thomas

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, panic attack, $uicidal ideations, manipulation, confrontation with a past abuser

Lorna tried to stay calm, playing with strings of fire between her fingers, but it didn’t distract her from the fact that they were hiding in the hold underneath the Darkling, traveling through the Fold. However, it was either this, or risk being spotted up on the deck, so Lorna had no right to complain. Jesper was antsier than ever, bouncing his leg as he cleaned one of his pistols.

“This is a bad idea,” he muttered.

“I think it’s rather practical,” Kaz shrugged. Of course he does.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t see how we step off this boat without you pulling those guns. So, cleaning them is a good idea,” Kaz explained with a shrug. 

“I don’t mean this,” Jesper wiggled his gun, “I mean this,” he motioned to the entire skiff. “We are in the worst place in the world, on a ship full of people who want us dead, surrounded by monsters who want us in their gullets.”

As if on cue, volcra growled in the distance. 

“Well, you know, at least the volcra want to kill everyone and not just us,” Lorna tried to sound encouraging.

“I should have brought Milo,” Jesper shook his head.

“Who’s Milo?” asked Inej, readjusting her boot.

“The goat,” Jesper and Lorna answered together, amazed at the audacity of their friend.

“Ha! You called him Milo,” Jesper cheered.

“Oh, whatever,” Lorna rolled her eyes and waved him off. Another set of growls from the black skies; she was certain the creatures were taunting them.

“How many bullets do you have?” Kaz asked, still looking up at the deck. For as jaded as Kaz made himself out to be, Lorna could see the fear in his eyes. Jesper twirled the gun in his hand.

“Not enough.” 

They continued on in silence with only the sounds of volcra and the nervous murmurs of the dignitaries on the deck. Lorna predicted they were just past the halfway point when she could hear Alina’s voice. She stood up and peered through the grate, catching a glimpse of her golden gown as Aleksander circled and stood behind her. Kaz stood with her.

“Remember who’s driving,” the Darkling hissed, placing a firm hand on Alina’s shoulder… right next to a piece of bone sticking out. She gasped as a burst of light emerged from her chest, creating a tunnel that must have extended all the way to the edge of the Fold. Lorna slapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out. Her legs went weak, she managed to sit herself down onto nearby crates.

“What have you done?” she managed to whisper. 

“What is it?” Inej asked.

“He’s hijacked her.”

“Well we know that,” said Jesper.

“No, this is more than just tying her down,” Lorna spat. “He quite literally has control of her powers. They must have found Morozova’s Stag.” She could feel a reflection of its power within her own amplifier, meager snake bones in comparison. She regretted the days when she studied the nature of amplifiers, cursed with knowledge now. “The Stag is a very powerful amplifier, much like the Darkling himself; he must have killed it and taken a piece of its antler unto himself and her. It would tether them and bind her powers to his. I knew the theory but I didn’t think it would actually work,” she explained, pinching the bridge of her nose. This new development would make things trickier. 

“So, what’s our play?” Jesper turned to ask Kaz. 

“We wait,” he replied.

“For what?” Inej quirked her brow. Kaz hesitated.

“For whatever the general has planned.”

“You figured him out?” Jesper crossed his arms. 

“Not quite.”

“Let me know when you do,” said Lorna from the corner of her mouth. He was a master at deception; she would start believing in the Saints again if anyone, including Kaz Brekker, managed to predict his next moves and true motive. 

“Consider the scenario,” Kaz started. “The Sun Summoner fled from his palace, now she’s tied to the deck. We’re sailing for a city where another Ravkan general hired Arken to kill her. And I saw his face as he boarded. I know that look. He’s a man consumed with vengeance.”

“See it enough in the mirror, do you?” Jesper replied. Kaz didn’t bother with a response, only returning his stare as though to say ‘of course’. “So, what kind of revenge is he planning exactly?”

“We know it apparently requires the Sun Summoner, which makes her valuable,” Lorna answered. “She’s the one keeping everyone safe in here.”

“If we had control of her, then we call the shots. We need to threaten her life.”

“What?” Lorna, along with two other voices, exclaimed. Her head whipped around, finding Inej—who she hadn’t even noticed had disappeared—holding a man at gunpoint. Jesper held up his own gun while she let her metal spike slide down her sleeve and into her palm.

“Who’s this?” Jesper asked with a raised brow. “Who are you?”

“A stowaway,” Inej answered for him. “Why pick this of all skiffs?”

“To kill the general and save Alina,” the man answered. Was he a zealot or friend? Lorna hid away her spike anyway and crossed her arms.

“I’ll ask again. Who are you?” Jesper cocked his gun and faced him. 

“Mal Oretsev.” Lorna watched as Kaz went up to him, looking Mal over for any other signs of a threat. He glanced over at her for her judgement. She gave a small shrug.

“You know Alina?” Kaz asked.

“I do.”

“Who’s in control of her?”

“The general I’m going to kill.” Mal sounded like he meant it, enough so that Lorna would want to join in if he managed to corner Aleksander.

“Inej, give him his gun,” Kaz ordered.

“Why?” she raised a brow.

“Because if he isn’t with Kirigan’s crew, he’s with ours,” Kaz explained. Inej did as she was told, Mal visibly relaxed; but Lorna still had some hangups. 

“Back to the subject at hand,” she spoke up, “holding Alina hostage would be a stupid plan, Kaz.”

“How so?”

“Easy. He doesn’t love her.” Silence filled the hold as though it were the Fold itself. Was no one else able to see what she saw? Put it all together? Then again, none of them had come to know the Darkling like she had. “He doesn’t love her enough to value her physical safety, no matter how much he’s convinced himself of it. If we take her, he could easily just kill us, or turn her powers against us, or a secret third thing that’s equally just as bad.”

“How certain are you?” Mal asked.

“Do you really want to try and find out if I’m wrong?” Lorna turned to him, bitterness coating her tongue. He was so young and eager for a fight. In any other lifetime, he would have done well for himself in Ketterdam. If they managed to make it out of here alive, she would still extend the offer. 

“And no offence to the rest of you otkazat’sya in the room,” she continued, glancing at Kaz and Inej, “but just because you had managed to survive the Fold or Grisha attacks does not mean you are qualified to take on the Darkling, with or without Alina.”

Kaz hung his head, mulling it over. He didn’t need to reaffirm that she was right, everyone knew it. In Lorna’s opinion, their best option would indeed be to wait and see what the Darkling would do next and run at the best opportunity, whether on foot through the Fold, or holed up in the skiff until they saw daylight. Fighting the Darkling was stupid; she wished she could tell that to her younger self. 

“Is there any way Alina could break free from this amplifier bond?” Kaz asked. The nature of amplifiers had enough rules as it was, but ones like Morozova’s Stag were a mystery to her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging.

“Well what do you know?” asked Jesper this time. 

“That we’re royally fucked.”

Lorna regretted saying it as the skiff came to a slow halt. Sunlight bled between the boards and filtered down through the grate above them. Warmth in her snake bones pulsed; something was going to happen. The dignitaries up on the deck were uneasy too, murmuring and wondering why they had stopped just at the edge of the Fold. The five of them tried to spy through the grate.

“What’s he doing?” Inej wondered. Kaz shushed them, Lorna felt strangely comforted by it. Kirigan turned to the diplomats.

“One more demonstration.”

“You’ve seen what the Sun Summoner can do. Now bear witness to what I can do with her power,” the general announced. Kaz had never much cared for Grisha politics and the rules of their power, but if Lorna, who was almost trembling beside him, was worried, then they were really in trouble. 

The Darkling walked forward, Kaz could barely glimpse him raising his hands. There was a rumbling in the air, the light that found its way through the cracks disappeared, snuffed out as the Shadow Summoner extended the Fold. Novosibirsk was caught in its path, left unprotected from Alina’s light. He started hearing heavy breaths, finding Lorna on the verge of hyperventilating as the screams traveled to where they stood.

“Not again. Not this again,” she begged, staring off in the distance. Kaz couldn’t question her, too distracted by Alina’s shoddy attempt to spare the residents of the overtaken city, only for the Darkling to twist her arm and withhold her power. If the Sun Summoner was going to fight back, Kaz wouldn’t bet much on her victory. 

“What now?” Jesper asked, lowering his guns.

“We wait,” said Kaz.

“Kaz, you can hear him slaughtering a city,” Inej pleaded. 

“So you understand the scale of his power, then? Lorna certainly does,” he snapped. He might have maintained the facade that he was cold and uncaring, but he valued his crew. Kaz would not allow them to die so foolishly. Even now, he could barely bring himself to look at the Inferni, still breathing heavily and staring into the air. It was cold. 

“The bold move is to strike now,” said Mal.

“And the smart one is to get clear of the damned Fold first.” The man only nodded and turned around, doing the exact opposite of what Kaz suggested.

“I never said I was smart,” he replied before climbing up onto the deck.

“Can you believe him?” Jesper said with a scoff.

“I’m going with him,” said Inej, readying her knives and following Mal. Kaz stepped after her, but stopped himself. He wanted to protect her with everything he had, to ensure her safety, even against the Darkling. But he had nothing. He didn’t even have an inkling of hope that they would survive this. 

The general began speaking, interrupted by Mal’s gunshots. Kaz wasn’t surprised to hear a heavy thump and Alina crying out for him. He was surprised at how willing to admit how afraid he was; their chances against the Shadow Summoner were dismal, and Lorna was in no condition to save them again. For once, he wanted to join her in her paranoid stupor. Jesper obviously didn’t feel the same, shaking his head with a smile and grabbing both his pistols from his belt. 

“We wait!” Kaz cried out, turning to him. He would not lose anyone else. He couldn’t.

“The action’s up there,” Jesper said.

“They have the advantage,” Kaz reminded. The Darkling with the Sun Summoner’s powers under his belt, at least two Heartrenders, and a Squaller; all of which were on the skiff, excluding the creatures of the Fold. 

“Only because I’m not in the game,” Jesper winked, running off anyway. Kaz went to follow him, but stopped. He turned back to Lorna, watching her shoulders shakingly rise and fall. Everything in him told him not to leave her, terrified of what would happen if he came back and found her like he did that night in her room… 

Kaz, despite the pain in his leg, kneeled in front of her, trying to meet her gaze behind lifeless eyes. If she could see or hear him, she gave no reaction, Lorna’s pupils remained constricted. He had no idea what was going on in her head, but this was the safest place for her to be while she recovered from whatever she saw in her head.

“Stop holding back and fight it, Snake.” It was all he needed to say. With that, Kaz got up and followed Jesper up toward the fight. 

Lorna carefully walked through the dirt back toward the tents, her fingertips reaching back to trace the snake bones that protruded from her skin. They brought no comfort anymore. Any flicker of power they gave her paled in comparison to the truth.

“Foolish child, he is immortal. He has no love for you, only a lust for your power. His own fears would have him rush to make a Sun Summoner out of you and bleed you dry.”

Baghra could be cruel, but the truth was worse. Lorna did her best to process it all, acting as though nothing were wrong except her own exhaustion. She didn’t want to believe it, but everything connected. The man she loved and knew as Aleksander Kirigan was nothing more than the Black Heretic.

And yet still, she gave herself to him.

She flinched as a hand rested at the small of her back.

“There you are, zolotse,” Aleksander muttered in her ear. She didn’t want to believe the truth, not when he sounded like velvet, smelled like the comforts of home, and held her like nothing else mattered. “As soon as they turn out the lights, meet me at the northern ridge. You and I are going to take on a quick mission.”

Immediately, she found it suspicious that no one else was to be included, not when they were so close to Fjerdan camps. Not when he had made the most intimate connection with her, despite being an over 400 year old murderer.

“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask,” she teased instead. He chuckled, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head before walking off. Lorna watched him go, her heart aching. She prayed to every Saint who would listen and pity her, wishing that in his time here, that he could have a change of heart.

They rode out in the dark of night, with not even moonlight to give them mercy. They left their horses a mile away and walked the rest. Along the way, Aleksander revealed that they had found a drüskelle encampment nearby and were going to raid it while they were caught off guard. It was easy enough, Lorna had done the deed enough times. Then again, it had been with entire squads of Grisha, not just her and her accursed lover.

The pair crested over the hill, looking down to find the sleeping camp. It was not even a quarter of the size of Chernast, but still remained one of the larger encampments that she had ever seen.

“Doesn’t seem too bad,” Lorna whispered in the dark.

“I agree. But it will be enough,” he replied.

“Enough for what?” Lorna raised a brow. Aleksander turned to face her.

“I want you to burn it all down in one fell swoop using your innermost fire,” he said. Her eyes widened. A lust for your power. It was her own fault for having potential.

“General, I remind you I haven’t quite mastered that large of a range.” He hadn’t asked her to do it again, not since that day.

“My love, I remind you that you are unlike any other Grisha I have seen.” She wanted to melt. He reached up and cradled the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbones, as he so often did. “You are incredibly special and immensely powerful. In another lifetime, you could have been the Sun Summoner.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but it sounded like sacrificing her to fate. She wasn’t supposed to know that his fear of the dark made him desperate. But she would follow him anyway in the hopes that her flame would be bright enough to bring him back.

With a shaky breath, Lorna nodded and carefully climbed down the hill, letting her energy build up as she walked, containing a fire that would put Hell to shame underneath her skin. A pair of wolves sniffed the air, detecting her, but Lorna calmly approached, stroking their soft fur. They could sense her adoration for animals more than they could sense her intention to destroy their home. She prayed that Sankt Mattheus would receive them as she walked into the center of the village. Even in the dark, with only a handful of lanterns lit, Lorna could see swirls of shadows surrounding the town. The Darkling would stop any drüskelle that would escape her. 

She hoped it would be worth it. Even now, Lorna didn’t want to disappoint him. Liquid fire filled her, building strength beneath the pressure. Her snake bones added power, but it wasn’t quite enough, even with concentration. It wavered, she struggled to contain it. Releasing too early would be a waste.

You are incredibly special and immensely powerful.

In another lifetime, you could have been the Sun Summoner.

My love.

Zolotse.

His words became her amplifier. Everything was searing hot, she had no choice but to let go. Throwing the cape of her kefta back, Lorna extended her arms and unleashed an explosion of pure, concentrated, blue flames. She had no idea how much damage she was creating, all she knew was that the power that surged through her was intoxicating and wonderfully painful, endless as she used every fiber of her being to light the world on fire. It was so bright, it might as well have been the sun at its zenith.

When the last of her flames escaped from her fingertips and the bubble of heat finally dissipated, Lorna dropped to her knees, utterly wiped out.

It had worked; buildings were nothing more than flattened kindling, there was no one left alive to cry out for help that wouldn’t come. Lorna almost smiled with a newfound confidence in her power. It made her forget the horrible truth of the Darkling.

But only for a brief moment. She explored the extent of her destruction, finding scorched drüskelle bodies… and a female holding a smaller form. And another. A group. They outnumbered the drüskelle.

“No,” she said into the air. Lorna quickly stumbled through the wreckage, finding more and more bodies, and, to her horror, a sign. 

Flyktingar. Refugees. 

“No, no, no, Saints please! What is this?” Lorna cried out. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see through the tears. Her feet took her back to the center of the town before tripping over debris. She pressed her face into the scorched earth and cried, sobbing from her own atrocity. All the energy she had used before had come back to haunt her.

“Lorna!” his voice echoed. She looked up to see Aleksander running toward her. “That was glorious, milaya!” He fell to his knees, still grinning despite the tears that dripped from her chin. “What happened?”

“It was a refugee camp,” she rasped, her voice thrashed from sobbing. “It was all widows and children.” His face dropped, glancing around at the flaming ruins.

“I didn’t know,” he said. She wanted to believe him. “We were misinformed.” She had to believe him. Lorna sniffled and held onto his kefta, praying the Saints would let this be the moment he opened his eyes to the cruelty.

“But a good Fjerdan is a dead one.”

Her prayers went unanswered. Had he not heard what she just said? Seen what she had done? What have I done?

“They were just refugees,” Lorna whimpered, her hold on his kefta loosening. “The chil-children, they-”

“Would have been taught to hate us and hunt us,” Aleksander reaffirmed. Hatred bled into his voice.

“You made me-”

“You did this Lorna!” he snapped. She couldn’t help but flinch. “Get a hold of yourself. You succeeded, there’s no need to cry about it.”

She was a fool to think she, a meager Inferni could change him, cleanse his heart with nothing but her love. In his eyes, she could see nothing but destructive power. Lorna feared for what her life would become. 

It was a quiet ride back to camp. Lorna loosely tied Carrot-Top in the stables and, in a daze, started the trek back to her tent. Aleksander intercepted her, opening his arms to her. The only thing stopping her from falling into them were her own two feet, cemented to the ground.

“Come to bed, zolotse,” he said, gently, as though he had never turned her into a weapon of mass destruction. “You’re exhausted, let me take care of you.”

She feared what would happen if she refused. Would he know that she knew? Would he make a martyr of her? Lorna let him guide her to his tent. His bed. It would be the last time she let him make love to her before sneaking off before sunrise, abandoning her kefta, ideas of love, the Grisha, her life. She took Carrot-Top and didn’t stop running until she reached the Fold, and even then, further. 

Now she was back in the realm of shadows, paralyzed and helpless to the world and the man who ruined her life. Who ruined hundreds of lives. There was no stopping him. There was no gravity to fall victim to, no glimmer of a blade to free her…

What was it that Kaz said? Had he said anything at all? Where was he?

Stop holding back and fight it, Snake.

But how? How could she fight when there was nothing left for her to do?

Fight it, Snake.

She was angry at him now. How could he say such a thing, then disappear? She wanted to kill him. She wanted to… to kill. Was that his plan? To piss her off and set a timer and hope she would explode at the right time? How dare he. 

Kaz tried to keep up behind Jesper, who had already fired as soon as he made it out onto the deck. He struck one of the Heartrenders, but victory was short lived. Kaz saw the Darkling raise his arms again, just like in the alley in Ryevost; without a second thought, he ran to Jesper and pulled him down, just before the Cut reached them. They crashed against the wall, the sharpshooter falling unconscious.

So much for getting in the game, Kaz thought to himself, staying low. Even so, at least his friend was out of danger. From the sails above him, the shimmer of a knife flying through the air, catching his attention and the Darkling’s chest. He coughed blood and with a great struggle, pulled out the blade. He glared up at Inej, who was no doubt still poised from making the throw.

“It will take more than this!” he shouted, tossing the blade aside. Kaz hid himself deeper, unable to deny that he was terrified of the man. He was a master of slight-of-hand and practical illusions, the shadow powers and strength the general possessed were way out of his depth. He couldn’t help but wonder about Lorna, if she was safe or still paralyzed in her stupor. He understood her pain, but they needed her to fight.

The Darkling raised his arms, twisting his hands together. Kaz flinched as Alina’s barrier of light was overtaken by clouds of shadows… covering only the back half of the skiff, exactly where Kaz and the others were. Immediately, volcra growls filled the air, eager to attack their newest prey. He could hear the creatures swarming above and the sound of Inej’s blades singing in the air. He had to help.

Kaz hoisted himself up and, deciding Jesper was safer where he was, climbed onto the upper deck in time to see Inej cornered by a volcra, out of knives. Kaz took his crow-headed cane and swung, catching the handle in the top of its head, drawing its attention away from his Wraith. The thing looked even more disturbing up close, blood gushing from its wound, painting the teeth in its maw. But despite the counterattack, it shook itself free, scampering backwards as though to assess its wound, before pouncing forward again and screaming at them. Kaz stood in front of Inej, ready to take the blow. 

“Get down!” someone commanded. Kaz and Inej did as they were told, just as a stream of fire blasted over their heads and into the volcra’s mouth. Kaz looked over his shoulder to see Lorna, baring her teeth, ready to wage war against the Fold itself. The volcra burned from the inside out, falling off the skiff already half-dead. 

“Come on! You want a fight? I’m right here!” she cried, pounding her chest as a challenge. The creatures, attracted to the bright flame, circled above them, ready to attack. Kaz watched as Lorna lit up the air with her rage, sending searing balls of flame at any volcra that dared to approach. He swore there was a flicker of blue. There seemed to be no end to the creatures, but Lorna showed no signs of slowing down. 

But a moment later, a bright light filled the air, expanding the barrier of protection and freeing the Crows from the Fold. The creatures shrieked as they crumbled to ashes. Lorna dropped her arms, catching her breath.

“Oh thank the Saints,” she panted, a hand resting on her side, “that was a lot more than I expected.” Kaz could only stare up at her.

What happened? Kaz wondered. Was she not paralyzed in fear only minutes ago? Was this just another one of her manic moods after a deep depression? It didn’t matter at the moment, as long as she was able to keep up with the fight. Inej hoisted herself up and went over to check on the unconscious Squaller nearby; Kaz followed suit, still keeping his distance.

“How do you claim such power?” they heard the Darkling cry from the lower deck. Kaz joined Lorna in looking over the railing, watching as Alina stood tall against the Shadow Summoner. “I am the one who killed the Stag!”

“I didn’t understand before, but I do now. You cannot claim what was not given to you,” Alina replied. Kaz saw Lorna smile out of the corner of his vision. “The Stag chose me.”

“You chose to betray our people.” The Darkling sounded desperate and, Kaz would dare to say, heartbroken. “I was trying to save us!”

In a quick moment, Mal got up and tackled the Darkling overboard. Alina gasped and cried after her friend. Kaz went to follow them around the rail, but caught sight of Lorna standing on the edge.

“Lorna!” he cried out, reaching for her.

His heart stuttered as she jumped.

A wave of heat rippled from Lorna as she touched down onto the sand between Mal and the Darkling. She was ready for a fight, eager for one. 

“Remember me now, Darkling?” she said before charging at the man, igniting her fists on fire and swinging.

Lorna had her advantages; years of close quarters combat training, the element of surprise, a new kind of energy in her veins, and Mal on her side. But Kirigan had his own immense power and strength. He found a break in her rhythm and swept her legs, knocking her back and quickly expelling the Cut. She rolled out of the way just in time; Mal jumped over her and landed a punch, Kirigan stumbling backwards. Lorna pushed herself up and joined in dodging and attacking the Darkling, even managing to land a kick to his jaw.

“I’m trying to get the gun,” said Mal, pointing toward the pistol that danced between their feet.

“Forget it!” she shouted just as the Darkling grabbed ahold of her from behind, and threw her onto the ground. Lorna yelped at the impact, fighting to get away.

“There was a time where you would have liked being in my arms,” he rasped, still holding onto her. She threw her head back into his nose; he cried out, his grip loosening just enough for her to scramble away. 

“I’m surprised you remember, old man,” Lorna replied. The Darkling threw up his arms, sending another Cut her way; she dodged, but felt a piercing sting on her arm. She almost missed wearing a kefta, feeling blood drip down her arm. Her head flashed back to the night she had done it herself, how much pain she had felt. But the only thing Lorna felt now was alive.

Mal jumped up to attack, exchanging a flurry of punches and jabs, managing to get the Darkling in a chokehold. Lorna ran up and punched him before he kicked her in the stomach, sending her to the ground to groan in pain. Her endurance was beginning to fade, but she was not going to allow herself to rest or hold back anymore. Not now.

The Darkling twisted around, breaking free from Mal’s grasp, and slammed him down. He wasn’t moving, Lorna couldn’t tell if he was unconscious; she tried to crawl to him but she winced in pain, her body still hadn’t recovered. She could only watch as Kirigan slowly walked toward him. 

While he was distracted, Lorna quickly, and quietly, pulled out the metal spike from her sleeve and the garrote from her belt. There was a high chance her idea wouldn’t work, but it was better than nothing. The Darkling was almost standing over Mal until he suddenly turned and fired, having fallen over the pistol he was trying to grab. Kirigan stumbled back as Mal fired again and again. Lorna took the opportunity to bite through the pain and stood herself up, swinging the spike she had tied to the wire. Together they forced the Darkling away from them with each jab and bullet, even if his kefta protected him.

“I’ve survived for centuries,” he said when Mal’s bullets ran out. “Did you really think you could kill me?”

Lorna stared up at him, ready to swing her weapon again, but Mal lowered a hand, signaling for her to wait. 

“We don’t have to kill you, Darkling,” he said. 

“Uh, yea we do,” Lorna muttered.

“Your past will do it for us.” Lorna gasped as a volcra swooped in to attack the Darkling. “Come on!” Mal grabbed her wrist and pulled her away back toward the skiff. Lorna would have wanted to stay and see his body torn to pieces, but his screams blending with the volcra’s was enough for her to smile. Even so, climbing back up onto the skiff was a blur from the final rush of adrenaline. 

“What happened?” Mal asked, running to kneel by Alina’s, who was laying unconscious on the deck.

“It’s Kirigan’s Heartrender,” Inej reported. Lorna watched as he lifted the girl’s hand to his cheek, begging her to wake up. She almost rolled her eyes at the display, catching sight of Kaz looking her over.

“What?” she hissed. His jaw set.

“What’s the damage?” he asked. 

“Cut on the arm, some bruises, nothing I can’t handle,” she shrugged. Even so, she couldn’t handle the volcra that swarmed above them, still too exhausted. She and Kaz ducked as one of the creatures swooped. “Oh, is that Zoya?” Lorna muttered, mostly to herself, recognizing the Squaller manning the sails. “This trip just gets more and more interesting.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kaz mumbled. 

Finally Alina woke up, reaching toward the sky with a glowing hand to stop one of the monsters heading directly toward Mal, restoring the protective barrier to lead them out of the Fold, crashing into the sand.

Lorna kept an eye on Inej fawning over Alina. She had never seen the girl smile so much, it was almost uncanny as much as it was lovely. It was enough to charm anyone, even while holding the knife Alina had given her.

It wasn't enough to distract her from the sting of pain as she cauterized the cut on her arm. Another scar, though this one led to a victory. She let the cold air kiss her skin before replacing her sleeve, hiding the tattoo cuff of snake scales on her forearm and the scars that marred it.

“You punched the Darkling,” she said to Mal with a small smile, shrugging her coat back on. 

“And you kicked him in the face,” he replied. They both chuckled from the absurdity and exhaustion. And from the relief that they were still alive, fighting against a centuries-old being with nothing but their fists and will. She imagined his death countless times, each more torturous than the last, but besting him in a fight and allowing his own creation to destroy him brought the most satisfaction.

“You’re a good fighter, Mal,” Lorna complimented before shrugging, “even if you lack finesse.”

“Well, sorry if I can’t light my fists on fire,” Mal rolled his eyes.

“You fight like you can,” said Lorna. “You go into the fight with the mindset that you’ll win.” She meant it. Even back in Ketterdam, when she had kept what she was a secret, she still fought like she had the advantage, even if she didn’t use it; it had just taken her a while to realize it. Alina laughed, her remnants of joy echoing in the lonely wind. Lorna and Mal both looked up at her, the former sighed. 

“When I ran from the Darkling, I didn’t have anyone. Even though he’s dead, she’s going to have the same feelings I did: regret, shame, guilt. She will have nightmares,” Lorna paused to turn back to Mal, “but she will have you. Be patient, be kind… be there.”

He slowly nodded, accepting the weight of his instructions. She may have scorned the idea of love and depending on another for comfort and connection, but for someone like Alina, who had been through the same as she, Lorna could make an exception. 

The crunch of familiar footsteps distracted her; Kaz had returned with scavenged supplies from the skiff. Why he insisted on going back alone was anyone’s guess, but Lorna didn’t feel like playing. Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason. She eyed him as he thrust the bag into Jesper’s hands and watched Inej smile, all while avoiding Zoya’s stare.

“Step one for any good plan, a change of clothes,” said the Zemini, handing the bag off to Mal. “It’s worked for me. Here.”

“Thank you,” said Mal once he got to his feet.

Inej helped Alina stand, still weak from the Heartrender’s attack on her body. Ivan had always been quite brutal, Lorna was thankful she never found herself facing him. The Sun Summoner’s eyes narrowed at Kaz.

“So, will you still be trying to kidnap me?” she asked.

“‘Course not,” Jesper shook his head. Kaz raised a brow at him.

“Have you found religion, too?” he questioned.

“No, it’s just,” Jesper threw up his hands, “I’m exhausted. Besides, it’d be bad form to kidnap someone after they saved your life.” Kaz considered it, looking back at Alina. Lorna knew he was still trying to find a way to make money out of this; she didn’t blame him, he would need something to make himself feel better after missing out on a million kruge.

“You’re quite valuable, you know?” he said to her. On shaky legs, Alina walked around the fire to stand face to face with Kaz.

“So is this.” She presented him with a necklace, covered in fine jewels and gold. Lorna recognized it to be worth a lot of money, especially in Ketterdam. Kaz took it, weighed it in his hands.

“I saw this on a portrait of one of the queens in the Little Palace,” he realized.

“It’s not a gift. It’s to keep quiet about who I am. Where I go from here,” said Alina. A moment passed before Kaz pocketed the piece with a nod.

“The deal is the deal,” he said in typical Barrel fashion. And, to Lorna’s surprise, he stuck out his hand to shake. In all her years of knowing him, she had never seen him willingly offer his hand. Alina smiled and went with Mal off in the distance to change their clothes; for her sake, Lorna was glad she could get herself out of the Darkling’s cloak. 

“I didn’t know about you and Kirigan,” Zoya spoke up. Lorna, still unwilling to look at her, shook her head and shrugged.

“He destroyed your home town, and you’re having a go for what he’s done to me?”

“He tricked me, too,” Zoya admitted. She looked at the Squaller then, saw her heavy heart through her tired eyes. Even then, she was unfairly beautiful. “He lied to me. To everyone, saying you abandoned the Grisha. And what’s worse is that I was happy about it, just so I could have his attention.”

Another fracture. Aleksander had centuries of practice lying. Lorna was so young that the only thing she could think to do was run, instead of bear through it and stay, if not to call him out, then to protect other girls from sharing her fate. He ensnared Zoya, Genya, and Alina to do his will and warm his bed. His death didn’t seem enough.

“I’m just saying,” Zoya continued, “I know how you feel now, and it’s terrible. And I am sorry.”

Lorna looked down into the fire again. 

“I’m sorry, too, that it came to this. He tore all of us apart,” she said. It was all she could say; anything more would be a failed effort to be strong, anything less would be weak. Maybe the Darkling was dead, and perhaps it felt good to watch him do it to himself, but it wasn’t enough to undo her own pain. Despite her newfound strength to carry on and willingness to kill, Lorna wasn’t sure if there would ever be a day when the sensations stop. For now, she would take what was given, the relief of never having to see his face again. 

A short while later, Mal and Alina returned, the latter free of the garments the Darkling forced her to wear. She tossed the golden dress and cloak into the fire, Lorna didn’t even need to increase the flames, the silk easily caught fire. Alina closed her eyes, taking in the moment.

“I didn’t expect it to burn at all,” said Mal, quietly. “But it can be destroyed in the end.”

“Just like him,” Lorna quietly added. Alina opened her eyes then and faced the Fold, silently challenging it and all that it stood for. Mal stood by her side, murmuring to her. The Sun Summoner looked dim, she knew she would partly be to blame for the mess they were in. But while Lorna didn’t believe in Saints anymore, she believed in Alina. All she had endured under the Darkling would ensure she would fight for everyone’s freedom, but until then…

“I have to go,” said Zoya, grabbing her hat and starting to walk away. They all turned to her in surprise.

“What? Zoya!” Lorna cried, standing up, ready to stop her. 

“You can’t go back into the Fold,” said Inej.

“To Novokribirsk,” the Squaller corrected. “I had family in that city. I need to know how much of it was lost.” 

To Lorna’s surprise, Kaz stood up and faced her.

“It’s dangerous to go looking for the dead,” he warned. “What you see may haunt you for the rest of your days.” Lorna knew he was talking from experience. She wouldn’t wish that kind of foolishness on anyone. But knowing Zoya, she was set.

“Not going will haunt me more,” she countered. “Come with me, Lorna,” she pleaded. “Stay in Ravka, we can find a way to gather the other Grisha and tell them of what the Darkling did.”

“This isn’t my place anymore,” said Lorna with a sigh. “Staying here won’t accomplish anything. I made a life in Ketterdam, and I intend to keep it.” She pursed her lips and carefully took Zoya’s hands into her own, gently warming them against the cold. She wanted to think that her old friends would like to see her, let alone believe her, but it was too much of a gamble, even by Barrel standards. The only place she wanted to be was back in Ketterdam, licking her wounds from botching the million kruge job, ready to take on anyone who dared to cross her path; not in the country she was forced into, the one that failed her. “I don’t think I can put on a kefta ever again. Blue isn’t really my color.”

Zoya nodded and lowered her head, accepting that she would be on her own. Lorna pulled her hands away, unable to ignore Kaz’s gaze. If he could bring himself to shake Alina’s hand, she could hold Zoya’s. She stood by him as the Squaller faced the Sun Summoner.

“You can’t stay in Ravka,” she warned Alina. “The Apparat will try to keep his power. Blame this on all of us, the people will turn on Grisha again. You need to find new allies.”

Lorna looked away as Alina drew her into a tight hug, Kaz did the same. The both of them were too overwhelmed by even the sight of an embrace. At least they were equally pathetic. 

“Then I’ll come back and reclaim our country,” Alina vowed. Zoya pulled away and looked her over.

“I still don’t like you,” then she smiled a little, “but I’m grateful to you. So remember this: Saints become martyrs before they get to be heroes. So stay alive.”

“They’ll have to get through me first,” Mal interjected.

“You need more than bullets and bravado to survive the people hunting you now,” said Zoya before turning and marching off to whatever was left of her home. Lorna watched her go, wondering if she would ever see her again. 

“It’s a two-day walk to Os Kervo from here, given our condition,” said Kaz. Lorna blinked hard, she would have to find some other time to miss the Squaller.

“Two days as the crow walks,” Jesper added, standing up and stretching his long legs. 

“I can make us some pretty convincing travel papers. We should be able to smuggle ourselves onto a ship back to Ketterdam from there,” said Lorna. With a wave of her hands, she took the fire into herself and kicked dirt over the remnants. Soon enough, she would be back home facing problems she could actually deal with: turf wars, keeping the business afloat, and Kaz’s moods. 

They started off, heading west toward the port city. Lorna couldn’t help but pause before entering the treeline. Years ago when she ran out of the country, she didn’t look back; she never looked back at all, even in Ketterdam. But just this once, she glanced over her shoulder, considering all she was leaving behind. The Darkling was dead, but it all felt incomplete, like something was missing. There was a time when Ravka was her home, yet even so, after all the heartache and pain Lorna endured, she knew the country owed her nothing. No sense of closure or semblance of forgiveness. With Zoya, there was a chance for her to be accepted back into the ranks she had once been a part of, to be the girl who wanted nothing more than a free nation, control of her powers, and love.

Lorna would not take that chance. She meant it when she said that she wanted to keep living in Ketterdam and that she would wear a kefta no longer. The girl they all knew once upon a time was dead. All that was left was a snake wearing crow feathers. She turned her back to the Fold and continued to catch up to the group with her head held high. 

Up ahead, she spotted Inej talking with Kaz. She was not a starry-eyed sap anymore, but even Lorna could see the tension between them. Brekker was a man who kept his promises, especially toward Inej. He had put up the club—the very business they cultivated—up for collateral, just so she could join them on this trip and get the million-kruge package. Even without that money now, Kaz would find a way to free her from Heleen. The notion in itself was quite romantic, all they needed was music and they would have a full opera production. Lorna shook her head as the Wraith walked off ahead of them, Kaz’s gaze following her. 

“Finally done hissing at shadows?” he said, not even turning his head to her. 

“If I hear another snake analogy out of you, I’m going to set your ass on fire,” she replied, marching on. He kept pace beside her. As always, he seemed to know there was something on her tongue. “Back there in the Fold… how did you know the right thing to say to set me off?”

His breath caught. Had she said something wrong? She let him contemplate his answer.

“I didn’t,” he finally said. “All I knew was that I needed the fighter from Ketterdam back.”

Of course. If nothing else, then to save his own skin, Lorna thought to herself with a bitter smile. 

“I know you wouldn’t have wanted to go down without a fight.”

“And you’re the expert in what I want? In where my greed lies?” Lorna practically snapped. 

“Then what do you want?” Kaz sighed, fed up with her attitude no doubt. She took a breath, letting the Ravkan chill cut through her lungs. Reacting with fire was not how she wanted it to go. She had to calm down and use her head; there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t quite articulate. She would try her best.

“Maybe you are right. I was—am—greedy for blood. I had just forgotten that after having spent so long running from him, only to end up back in his arms,” Lorna managed to say, shrugging off the tingling sensation that danced across her skin. “Maybe I want to thank you.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he rasped.

“Too bad. Thank you for not letting me forget that the Darkling isn’t the only one who can kill people,” she said. She meant it. Maybe the Shadow Summoner had groomed her to become a weapon, maybe her childhood ended when she was taken from the Wandering Isle, but at least she could hold it against the very man that ruined her. At least she could use it to help the one that recognized the power she had. “Even if I lose my spine, I still have my fangs.”

“I thought you said no more snake analogies,” Kaz reminded her with a hint of a smirk.

“‘Out of you’, I said. I can make as many as I want.”

For once, Kaz was glad to be back on the water and to hear Jesper rambling on. It was a sign that things were about to return to normalcy, after having spent what felt like ages dealing with Grisha magic and emotional turmoil.

“We set out with a clear mission,” said Jesper, “a prize of a million kruge. And a new member on our crew.” They sat down on the passenger benches. Kaz kept his head on a swivel, looking for anyone that would cause trouble, aside from them of course. “So what did we learn? People with trains are evil, you can’t kidnap a human sunbeam, and maybe—just maybe—greed is a poor motivator. True wealth is the friends you make along the way.”

“I just might be impressed,” said Inej with a smile. It was one of her more subtle ones, but Kaz always noticed it.

“I’m talking of Milo, of course. But I won’t have my smelly friend when walking into Ketterdam,” Jesper shrugged.

“Where Dreesen is waiting for our return.” Inej turned her worried gaze toward Kaz.

“And Pekka Rollins,” he added. He didn’t feel any more confident about taking him on, but as always, Kaz was ready to fight anyway.

Some of the sailors passed by, complaining about a lost shipment of wine and the destruction of Novokribirsk. One even mentioned the rumored death of the Sun Saint.

“Excuse me?” a woman came by to ask. She was pale and had dark hair, and had the look of someone who was listening in on their conversation. Kaz made sure to take note. She tilted her head toward the sailors. “Is what he said true?”

“I don’t know if she’s dead,” he replied, “but she is a Saint.” The woman nodded in thanks before crossing to the far side of the ship; Kaz caught Inej’s subtle smile before the worried frown returned.

“Back to Dreesen and Rollins, they’ll both want our heads once we show up without the Sun Summoner,” Inej reminded him.

“Well, I’m sure the boss has a plan. He wouldn’t send us into a death trap,” Jesper nervously chuckled before the smile dropped. “Tell me you have a plan. I don’t care if it’s a lie.”

“I have a plan.” He didn’t say how much of a plan he had, but it was enough. Kaz knew what he wanted to accomplish at the very least. He would need to run ideas with Lorna. “And, just how this all started we’re going to need a Heartrender.”

“Will we now?” Lorna finally came to join them. She had slipped off just before they had their forged papers checked and were brought on board, now returning with a small satchel.

“And where have you been?” Kaz asked her. 

“Just getting something for the trip.” Lorna reached into the bag and pulled out something dried and green. “Kaelish seaweed! This helps with seasickness,” she explained before tossing the piece in her mouth. “I’m expecting trouble when we get home, I want to be fully prepared and on my feet. Especially if we’re dealing with a Heartrender. Who are you thinking?

“Milana?” asked Jesper.

“No. For this to work, it has to be someone neither of them know. Someone desperate for work, with loyalties only to us,” Kaz corrected. Really, for any element of his skeletal plan to work, everyone involved would have to be loyal only to him. 

“Well, given your charming personality, I’m sure that will come easy,” Lorna said with a smirk. “Would it be odd for me to say that I prefer this kind of trouble to what we just faced?”

Kaz almost laughed. 

“Not at all, Snake,” Kaz replied, bracing himself as they began to drift away from the dock. “Not in the slightest.”

[ashes-2-ashes57cba-ver2]

Chapter 7: The Old Way

Sean-nós: Irish for "the old style/way", refers to a traditional form of unaccompanied Irish singing. Daybreak has not yet come- but now it's here Daybreak has not yet come- but now it's morning Daybreak has not yet come- but now it's with us She has spoken and I must leave here - Orla Fallon

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, manipulation, references to abuse and grooming, graphic description of a suicide attempt (clearly marked if you need to skip), references to past drug use

Lorna couldn’t tell if she had woken up or was still dreaming, the silk sheets weren’t helping her early morning quest for knowledge. The only thing that enlightened her to reality were his arms around her and his face buried in the nape of her neck. He kissed the snake’s bones. 

“I can feel you’re awake, zolotse,” he muttered.

“And how did you figure that?”

“You got warmer.” Lorna chuckled, twisting in his hold to face him, reaching up to play with his dark hair.

“Or maybe I was just thinking of you. You are very well aware of how hot and bothered you can get me,” she teased, brushing her lips against his jaw. He hummed contentedly, reaching down to caress the back of her thighs. 

“If you were thinking of me, why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he muttered, giving Lorna his biggest, pleading eyes. She smiled and shook her head.

“So needy.”

“All for you.” Lorna readjusted, propping herself up on her elbow so she could lean down and kiss him sweetly. She swore he tasted more addicting in the morning, but perhaps she was simply being romantic. “Mm, you’re as bright as the sun, milaya.”

She pulled away, happy to see him smile, before cuddling back into his chest, taking in his natural musk and the scent of their… activities from the night.

“I’ve been thinking, Sasha,” she started, “you should grow a beard.” He laughed, delighted at the notion.

“Should I?”

“Well, yes. All generals have beards.” Lorna reached up to trace his bare jaw. “Plus I think you would look very handsome with a beard.”

“You’ve thoroughly convinced me.” He kissed the top of her head. “But first things first, we’ve got to get you out of bed before someone notices you’re gone.” Lorna groaned, burying her face in his neck and clutching onto him, refusing to get up. “Ah, ah, come on. Up you get.”

“Aleksander,” she whined.

“Saints above, I love when you say my name like that,” he chuckled, hands starting to wander over her. 

“Then make use of it.” Lorna looked up at him, giving him her most alluring gaze. “Technically, I’m not needed anywhere until training after breakfast.” Aleksander rolled his eyes, smiling to himself, before propping himself up over her and pinning her down. Lorna squealed, fire glistening in her eyes as he kissed her neck, down to her collar, and even further down.

“Now who’s the needy one?”

“Look who finally showed up.”

“The General’s girl.”

“Why else do you think she can just do what she wants?”

The whispers were nothing new, which made them easier to ignore. Lorna concentrated instead on her stance, keeping her elbows out as she swung with her sword. Botkin, thankfully, wasn’t going easy on her today. Metal clashed as the instructor swung down hard. Lorna’s arms ached, using all her strength to fight back. 

“Little snake lost her spine,” he goaded through gritted teeth in their native Shu. Lorna kicked him back, running her fingers across the blade of her sword, setting it alight.

“Little snake still has fangs,” she hissed before going in for the attack. Botkin laughed as they continued to spar. All the other Grisha were watching now, but Lorna paid them no mind. The only eyes she cared about were looking over them from the upper hallway of the Little Palace. He knew he would have stood out in his black kefta, but Lorna always knew where he was. 

Botkin tripped her, she landed hard on her back. He swung down, his blade stopping just above her neck, hers barely at his side, ready to pierce his liver. A draw. 

The instructor huffed and stepped back, offering his hand to help her up. She winced, soreness beginning to spread through her body. Not the pleasurable kind. Lorna reached back to feel the snake bones that protruded from her skin. They had given her strength before, but where was it now? 

“Very good work today, Lorna. If only you could take a sword with you to Baghra,” said Botkin, collecting her blade.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Lorna kept her eyes screwed shut, intent on concentrating on the flow of gases in the air around her. Hydrogen, methane, she could feel them both, almost see their colors in her mind’s eye. She could also see Baghra judging her, standing a safe distance away.

“Now!”

Lorna obeyed the command and clapped her hands, the flint in her gloves sparking the gas into a stream of flames down the vale. To anyone else, it was an impressive feat.

“Not enough,” the old woman shook her head. Lorna slouched in defeat, fully aware; only a quarter of the distance for her half-mile goal. Perhaps she was setting up her expectations too high, but she knew she could do it. 

“It looked good from my view,” another voice announced. Lorna turned to find Aleksander approaching with a proud smile. He made his way over to her while Baghra rolled her eyes, muttering a complaint about distractions. Lorna didn’t care, not when he kissed her so sweetly in greeting. “Is my dear mother working you too hard?”

“Would you rather she end up a mere fire stoker?” the old woman replied. Lorna waved it off.

“Be kind to your mother, Sasha. We’re still working on it,” she said. He smiled, but she could tell there was something on his mind. “What is it?”

“There’s… something I want you to try,” he said, taking her hands. “You’ve been able to generate heat and flames without a spark, yes?”

“Well, yes, I use my own body heat to-” she realized what he had in mind, and as much as she believed in him… “I don’t know if I can do it at this scale, Aleksander.”

“Don’t be modest now, zolotse. You can light up the world if you want to,” he encouraged, tilting up her chin. 

“Enough of that,” Baghra called out, “she’ll only exhaust herself!” Aleksander didn’t budge, still expectantly gazing at her. Something flickered in his eyes, a passing shadow or her own imagination. If he truly believed she could do it, then it couldn’t hurt to at least try. She took a breath and nodded. 

“That’s my girl,” he said before kissing the top of her head and moving to stand behind her, his hands atop her shoulders. “Don’t disappoint me, my dear.”

“I won’t, Sasha,” she muttered, taking off her gloves and tossing them to the slide. She closed her eyes, this time, focusing her energy inward. Every heartbeat, every bit of air that filled and escaped her lungs, down to the very movement of her blood generated heat. 

And she was an Inferni.

In more casual settings, she had figured out how to control her own body temperature, but what she was trying to attempt was a very concentrated effort. And theoretically, very dangerous. She gathered her warmth, letting her body regenerate and the amplifier in her back and from her love do their job, adding more and more to her supply. The level of heat contained under her skin would kill any otkazat’sya.

“Sasha,” she whimpered, struggling to keep it contained without bursting at the seams.

“Not yet,” he hissed. His grip tightened, his voice almost dulled against the roar of the fire. Aleksander’s hand moved to the back of her neck, his palm overtop the snake bones. She kept her eyes screwed shut, fighting to keep up with the surge of energy. Her blood boiled, ideas of hatred invaded her mind. She wanted to stop, she wanted to kill, she wanted the entire world to burn. This was Lorna’s power. 

Her eyes snapped open and with a cry, she unleashed all of the burning energy, thrusting her arms forward to direct the flood of flames. A ‘boom’ echoed from the energy colliding with the air, a gust of wind blew back any nearby trees, the grass under its path scorched if not already disintegrated. Even when she thought the well of power was empty, somehow even more flames emerged from her reserves, a searing blue. 

When all of her fire had completely vanished, Lorna finally felt the chill of the air. Her legs wobbled and gave out, she caught herself in the grass, catching her breath. She hadn’t heard Aleksander’s praise or Baghra coming up to meet her. 

“Three quarters of a mile,” said Baghra, half in amazement, half in caution. Lorna wanted to smile, but couldn't find any more strength. 

“Only three quarters? I expected more,” said Aleksander, having barely broken a sweat. “Let's try it again.”

More? Lorna looked up at him, confused as to why he seemed unimpressed. This was a great improvement, a personal record, and yet he wanted more. 

“Aleksander, take pity. She can barely stand!” Baghra hissed. She rested a hand on her arm; that was new. 

“If she has the ability to burn down the Fold, why waste the time to rest?” he snapped. Lorna felt herself flinch. She never wanted this, but she would do anything to make him happy. Was she so deep in love that she overlooked his tension and anxiety? Had she overlooked the shadows emulating from him? 

He took a breath and collected himself.

“Forgive me if I’m slightly disappointed,” he said through gritted teeth. Lorna frowned. He excused himself and left without another word. Something flickered in her chest. Baghra sighed and sat with her in the grass, massaging her temple.

“Lorna,” she said. She had never called her by her name before. “There is something I must tell you about Aleksander…”

Lorna’s eyes ached but still they did not close; they moved from the moonlit window to the edge of the bed, counting the threads of the sheets. She froze as hands snaked around her waist and pulled her close, her back pressing against his chest. He hadn’t said anything more all day, barely even sparing her a glance as he climbed into the bed. She wasn’t sure what to think.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in the dark, lips brushing against her amplifier. “I didn’t mean to push you to exhaustion.”

Lorna didn’t know how to respond. She knew he didn’t. Did she? Apparently she knew nothing at all.

“I saw the chance that you might be able to burn down the wall. I got ahead of myself and set my expectations too high.”

When did he start to think it would be a viable option? Why was he so worried about it now? What else did he keep from her?

“You are far too precious to me. Too special. We will keep working on your strength and find a way to make this work. Is that understood?”

Lorna didn’t say anything, only taking a deep breath and moving her hands over his, tangling their legs. She had to believe in him, one afternoon couldn't be enough to shake her. She had to be stronger than that. She had to be stronger than the fear that he had lied to her—to everyone—for no good reason.

If she had become tethered to him, Lorna would at least make it worth his while. 

Kaz placed what was left of their collective supplies on the table; his damaged cane, a single small explosive, and enough money to buy maybe two apples. Three if they were lucky, but fortune had not favored them in this damned country. He was half tempted to just let Lorna loose to burn it all down, just out of annoyance.

“Is this all we have left?” Inej wondered aloud. Kaz didn’t want to answer, still convinced he was in some terrible, poor-man’s dream. She winced, her hand hovering over her side. “Jesper, my bag.”

Inej lifted her shirt, peeling off the bloodied bandage and tossing it onto the table. Kaz stared at the gaping wound while Jesper gagged and looked away. He wanted to help. He knew it was his downfall, but he wanted it anyway; Kaz hated how tough Inej had to be just to survive. If she hadn’t beat him to it, he would have killed that Grisha.

“Mother of Saints,” Jesper hissed, looking a shade paler as Inej sat and leaned back into the pile of hay.

“It’s not healing on its own. I need to stitch it,” she said through the pain, digging through her small bag. Kaz finally averted his gaze. 

“How long before you can travel?” he asked.

“Not long. Where?” 

“Ketterdam.” He knew they would both be surprised, but he didn’t see any other choice. They had to go back. At least there they could die on familiar territory with a better hand, than out in the middle of nowhere on the other side of the Fold. He couldn’t afford to damage his crew even more. “Between our dwindling funds, lack of time, and conflicting interests, it’s best we cut our losses.”

With that, he left the barn for fresh air. Kaz had always lived his life several steps ahead of his enemies and even his own plans, but he never calculated for a failure this severe. He sighed, letting his breath fog in the cool air.

In the distance, Kaz caught sight of Lorna sitting in the grass, still as a stone. He couldn’t help but worry that she might blow away, snuffed out by the slightest gust of wind. He knew he had no right to grab her hand, but he wasn’t willing to watch her destroy herself just in an attempt to kill the Darkling. She made everything easier… Kaz had just never realized the cost. He didn’t know how they would be able to recover from this, from his mistake. 

“Inej is all stitched up,” said Jesper, coming up from behind. Kaz couldn’t help but sigh with relief, even though he sounded peeved. “And she can’t go back to the Menagerie, Kaz. You know that. We can’t stop her from taking off now.”

“I know,” said Kaz. It was a gamble; either she wins and flees to freedom, leaving him in the dust, or he wins and has her by his side in Ketterdam, with all of their lives on the line. Every day, he anticipated waking up and finding out she had stowed away on a ship leaving Ketterdam without saying goodbye. Kaz expected to remain alone.

“Is Lorna going to be okay?” Jesper asked, tone softening in concern for their friend. Her mask was exquisite, but this time, it had broken faster than she could repair it. Everything around and about her was delicate. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Don’t,” Kaz hissed. He was, frankly, terrified that if he blinked, he would find her collapsed, bleeding out.

“Kaz,” Jesper said gently, “I know you're worried-”

“You don't know,” he snapped, turning to face him. For some Saints forsaken reason, he patiently let Kaz carry on. “She's just faced off with the man who took everything from her. She’s vulnerable right now and the last thing we need is for one of us to screw her up even more and make this failure worse than it already is.”

Jesper looked at him with pity and curiosity. Dammit. 

“You know why I keep her busy. You know what happened when I-... when we found her in her room. But that wasn’t the first time she was,” begging for death? Unable to cope with the weight of being alive? “Caught.”

Jesper’s eyes widened then, confusion, shock, and the glistening of tears lined them.

“What do you mean it wasn’t the first time?”

The memory was vivid, it always was. 

He had gone up to the roof of the Crow Club, just for some space and distance from the noise. His room wasn’t cutting it that night, too overwhelmed by the silent cry of papers in need of organization. Kaz was almost startled by the sight of a woman standing at the ledge of the roof, facing the city. She hadn’t seemed to hear him come up.

“This is a private establishment, miss,” Kaz said, clearing his throat. She startled a little, barely turned her head and saw him out of the corner of her red rimmed eyes. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her voice rough, “I’ll leave soon. Please, just pay me no mind.”

He realized what was wrong. Death was in the air, and not the kind he had grown so jaded to; there was an uncomfortable warmth radiating from her, the final embers of a fire that should have been snuffed out ages ago mixed with a rotting corpse trapped in a sunlit room. She was not even half a step away from the fate of cobblestone three storeys below. This wasn’t a businessman who had lost all his stocks at the Exchange, a tourist with emptied pockets, or a gangster pressured to take the fall.

This was just a girl who saw no other way out. 

And he was just a boy.

“Come away from the edge,” he said. She didn’t. “I won’t ask again.”

“Then don’t, sir,” she practically growled, turning to face him now with brows furrowed in frustration. The dark circles under her eyes rivaled the dead’s. Kaz felt his face turn feverish. Her anger subsided, overtaken by numbing despair. “How often does this happen?” she asked, turning to the city again.

“You won’t end up in the paper, for one thing,” Kaz answered honestly. She huffed, perhaps in place of a laugh. He walked up to her, resting his arms on the ledge just a ways away from her feet. He didn’t know how he managed it, but somehow he said the right thing to bring her back to solid ground. “Long ago there were two brothers. One died of firepox and the other, having fallen asleep on his brothers’ body, was sent out to the Reaper’s Barge. He used his corpse to float back to shore, only to die in the harbor from infection.

“If it somehow managed to make its way to the news, no one bothered to read about it. Death is just another character wandering the streets of the Barrel, swimming around this Saints forsaken island.”

“Seems I’ve picked the perfect place, then,” she said. “What could possibly motivate me now?”

“Revenge.”

That stopped her feet from shifting. 

“Every day I live to spite those who wronged me. To build up my wrath brick by brick, waiting for the right moment. If you die now, you let whoever hurt you win,” he said. “Are you going to let them?” He dared to turn up his head and meet her gaze, taking in her features. She looked like a snake who knew it wasn’t wanted in the world, but searched for warmth anyway. The Barrel would be the perfect place for her, if she would let it. 

A tear creeped down her cheek and fell from her chin. Had he done it? He braced himself, ready for her to jump off the ledge.

Instead, she clicked her tongue and sighed, took one last glance at Ketterdam’s lights, and climbed down onto the ground next to him, her head still lowered in shame. In silence, he led her down the roof access and back into the main floor of the club. No one seemed to pay any attention to them, except for a certain Zemini who came bounding up to the pair.

“Kaz! Sorry I’m late. I got caught up with… who’s this?” Jesper greeted before giving the girl beside him a once over. Kaz watched as her mask first formed; a polite but awkward smile.

“I’m Lorna Solovey,” she introduced. “I, uh, just got here. From Ravka.”

“She’s going to be working with us,” Kaz said for her. She—Lorna—nodded along. Jesper grinned wide.

“Well, let’s see how well you fare in the Crow Club, eh?”

Only Kaz saw how hard her jaw clenched as she shook his hand.

The memory was vivid, it always was. Everything he felt and remembered was as real as the fire roasting the rabbit in front of him. Kaz remembered how terribly frightened he was to see how close she was; he hadn’t felt that scared since he was a boy. There was a distinct difference between people who were expecting to die… and someone who wanted to.

He knew what bound the Crows to him: a cocktail of greed, desperation, and the weight of knowing no one would miss them if they disappeared. But what bound Lorna? She had no desire for riches, already faced desperation, and danced with the fact that no one would miss her. What did she want? What did she want from him?

Perhaps he was in over his head. Supplies and morale were low enough as it was, Kaz was already grieving a million kruge… and his Wraith. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked aloud, knowing she was walking toward him, “Or just saying goodbye?”  

“Jesper fixed your cane,” she said, not answering his question. He knew she wasn’t happy about it either. Kaz took it, briefly inspecting it even though he trusted Jesper’s handiwork.

“So, you are leaving,” he reaffirmed, though it almost sounded like a question. He couldn’t bear to look at Inej and her tear-glossed eyes. Maybe if he pushed her away, saying goodbye would be easier… but pushing her away and hurting her was harder than simply saying goodbye.

“That’s it?” she said. “After everything, there’s nothing else you want to say to me?”

“What else is there?”

He was the Bastard of the Barrel, he had nothing to say if he gained nothing from it. A liar, a thief, and a man without conscience. Yet something within him broke as Inej huffed and turned to leave. He saw Lorna step off the roof. 

“You were right!” he shouted before Inej walked away for good. Kaz would not let her go like this, with nothing left between them. 

“About what?” she turned around.

“The Sun Summoner,” he said. “You were right. She’s real.” His voice fractured, as did his own mask. He had seen many horrible and unexplainable things in his lifetime, and he expected at least half of them to kill him; the Darkling’s powers in action and the extent of Lorna’s flames and rage among them… as well as Inej’s laugh and the light that Alina Starkov brought forth from inside her. There was no illusion to the hair at the back of his neck standing on end or the air that moved as the orbs of light danced around the room. Inej sat next to him, he looked away as he admitted his mistake. “I played it over and over in my head. None of it’s a trick. The light was hers.”

“So, what? Kaz Brekker finally believes in Saints?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed.

“But you just said-”

“I said Alina Starkov is a Grisha with the power to manipulate light. She’s a girl with a gift, not some savior of lore.” 

“Fine,” Inej slouched, realizing she wouldn’t be able to get through to him. “Kaz, if not Saints, what do you believe in?”

“Myself.”

“Why’d I even ask?” She shifted her legs, ready to move again. He wasn’t finished.

“And you.” That stopped her. “And Lorna, and Jesper. My Crows.”

“Because we flock to your bidding? Like the animals of vengeance you named us after?” 

“Crows don’t just remember the faces of people who wronged them,” Kaz began to explain. “They also remember those who were kind. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.”

They were all animals—a snake, a lynx, and a rabbit—cruel and untamed by their own means. But at the same time, they were crows, part of Kaz’s exclusive murder. Inej was as much of a crow as he was; she knew who was deserving of her kindness, even if that someone was crooked and had done all the wrong things in life. Kaz couldn’t help but wonder if her patience had a limit, but he wasn’t willing to find out quickly, which is why he spoke the truth.

“No Saint ever watched over me. Not like you have,” he admitted, forcing himself to keep eye contact. Her eyes glimmered like a deep pool, as though he could crawl inside and find himself safe in her. Was this where she finally realized how much she meant to him?

“I can’t go back to the Menagerie,” she said, just above a whisper. 

“You won’t,” he promised. He would allow a thousand failures on his part if it meant protecting her freedom. She trusted him with it, just like Lorna trusted him to keep her alive. Kaz Brekker was many things; a liar, a thief, a man without conscience, were just a few of them. But anyone who worked with him could say that he always kept his word. He would not stop fighting for Inej and his Crows. 

By the time they stopped for the night to make another encampment, the Crows had come close enough to the Fold that they could see it on the horizon, less than a day’s ride away.

In all that time, Lorna hadn’t spoken a word. She couldn’t bring herself to, couldn’t find the point. After she had created the campfire, Lorna wanted to walk off and find a spot to sit alone, or dig her grave.

Kaz knew it, being the only one with the audacity to ask, or rather demand-

“Are you going to explain what happened in Ryevost?” Lorna didn’t turn at first, already picturing his version of pity over his face. She imagined Jesper and Inej glancing at each other too. “I need to know if you’re still a viable member of our crew. I need to be able to rely on you when the moment comes and not find you holed up in a corner.”

She knew this was coming, silent hours were spent gathering what was left of her strength, but it still wasn’t easy. Lorna took a breath and prayed to whatever Saint would bother to strengthen her tongue, turning to sit with the group.

“I have a history with the Darkling,” she said, her throat hoarse. 

“Obviously.” Leave it to Kaz to absolutely kill her momentum with his bluntness. Lorna rolled her eyes and huffed, reaching forward to let a flame catch on her hand. Jesper and Inej leaned forward to listen.

“Fine, to be more specific, I have an intimate history with the Darkling,” said Lorna, angrier now. “I was young and stupid enough that one kiss convinced me to overlook the obvious fact that he was a monster. And when I finally did figure it out, I ran out of the country and met you lot. Happy?” 

It felt as good as vomiting; she freed the contents of her stomach, but still felt sick. Lorna could have stuck with that answer and moved on… but they didn’t deserve half the story. Kaz was relying on her, after all he did for her—which he was never obligated to do—she owed him that much. The flame danced over her fingers.

“He convinced me I was special, that my power could be enough to ‘burn down the Fold’. I grew scared of him and what I had become. A living bomb,” Lorna continued, gentler now. She clenched her fist, extinguishing the fire. She imagined the feel of his hands closing around her throat, forcing her to continue and admit her shame. “I had to give myself to him in the hopes that he would change his mind or realize what he had done, what he made me do.”

She had been so worried about disappointing him when she ran, even after killing hundreds of lives in his name. Every horrible thing, she had just allowed to happen. “There are stories worse than mine, people who have given up more than just their body and trust so they could feel a semblance of love and care, only for it to… blow up in their faces…”

Lorna couldn’t help but look at Inej. She knew the Suli girl shared her pain, both of them had been taken advantage of. But some cracks ran deeper. Some of them were already repaired. 

“I’m not trying to compete with you, Inej. I can’t, because I know I’ll lose.” Inej’s lip wobbled, but Lorna couldn’t spare emotion anymore. Anything left inside was burning up. “But I don’t want your Saints.”

Kaz’s jaw was set, but Lorna knew he was finally able to put the pieces together. She was sure it was a very satisfying moment for him. 

For as much as Lorna hurt, despite everything that happened, she would never admit how desperately she wanted to be loved. Someone to hold her wrists, kiss her palms, and smile at her. Want her. She wanted to be wanted and didn’t know how anything else could substitute. So she settled for what she could in bloodshed and lived with the fact that she didn’t deserve anything else. 

“That’s why you didn’t answer me when I asked what a million kruge would mean to you,” Kaz realized aloud. Lorna nodded.

“No amount of money can undo what he did to me,” she said. Not even death would free her or make or it all go away, it would only end up a faded page in history. With a quick breath, she pushed it all aside. “But no money will be waiting for us at all if we don’t make it back to Ketterdam before the economy crashes. Eat, rest, I’ll take first watch.”

As if things couldn’t get any worse, the Fold grew larger into sight, reminding Lorna of what they would have to face once again. Jesper—who insisted on driving the carriage with her while Kaz and Inej sat inside—gave a low whistle.

“I think it somehow looks worse from a distance,” he said with an odd attempt at humor. Lorna only hummed in response; she didn’t want to look at him, knowing he was sporting that same worried look he had the night he found her in her room. She didn’t want to do that to her friend, not again.

“Could you pick a sean-nós tune?” she hesitantly asked. Jesper did a double take, but smiled. 

“Ta na caorigh ag ithe an gheamhair

ta an gamhna ag ol an bhainne,” he began to sing. Lorna felt herself smile, letting him finish the verse before joining in the chorus.

“Nil ‘na la ta na la, 

nil ‘na la na ar maidin,

nil ’na la ta ‘na la, 

is bean a ra is i ar fhaga,” they sang. Her voice wasn’t what it used to be, her throat scarred and abused from the years of substances, but they didn’t care. The pain wouldn’t go away—not from this alone—but at least it quelled with Jesper’s help. Lorna’s spirit lifted, and even if it was just in that moment, she felt such joy for only worrying about what verse came next, and even laughing when she did forget. For now, it was all that mattered.

“How many are there?” asked Inej.

“Two,” Kaz answered. “At some point, one of them will have to go tell a superior what they found. We’ll go in then.”

“I’m surprised it took them this long to find it,” Lorna mumbled. Kaz blinked hard at the aloofness in her voice, still reeling from how quickly she seemed to have recovered from her slump and hearing her sing. 

His suspicions about her past were correct but hearing her say it… felt different. It was a bittersweet satisfaction. Now he wondered how she managed to keep herself intact after all this time; all he did was keep her distracted from her desire to die, everything else had been of her own power. Was she more prone to breaking down, now? Or had she become tempered glass, unable and unwilling to crack?

Kaz spared a glance at her, laying next to him on her stomach as they all kept watch on Arken’s train and the two guards inspecting it.

“Not to be that person, Kaz,” Jesper spoke up, “but are you sure you can drive that thing?”

“Yes. On the way to Kribirsk, while you were hugging bait-”

“Milo! The goat’s name is Milo.”

“Barnaby!” Lorna hissed. 

“I was memorizing Arken’s timings. So I drive, Lorna is our fuel source, we’ll make it through,” said Kaz, ignoring both of their comments about the goat. 

“Not to gang up on you, but Jes has a point,” said Inej. Kaz raised a brow. “Arken’s system was complicated and the ride was chaotic. No one would blame you for missing a count.”

“‘Jes’?” Kaz echoed. Yes, he understood that it would be a tricky procedure and it didn’t need to be perfect. But when did Inej start calling Jesper by a nickname? Why did it bother him so much?

“It’s Suli, for friendship,” Jesper smiled, nudging Inej.

“No it’s not,” she argued. 

“Jesper, it’s literally a shortened version of your name,” Lorna added. Kaz sighed, they hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Trust me,” he continued, assuring Inej, “Arken and I think alike.”

There was a loud boom as the train exploded into pieces. Kaz was truly at a loss for words; somehow everything about this job turned against him.

“Too soon to appreciate the irony, am I right?” said Jesper. Kaz lowered his head. Next to him, Lorna turned to lay on her back and huff, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, too soon.”

“The skiff is still here. Travelers downstairs are complaining,” said Inej, delivering her report after returning from the shadows. Lorna carefully inspected the room of the inn, swiping dust off the window sill. They sold the horses and carriage, but the money earned was barely enough to cover the room, granted they did want something large and private. At least the host downstairs wouldn’t ask any questions. 

“Orders from the Black General,” Kaz explained. “He plans to cross on it tomorrow.”

“The general?” Jesper questioned, standing by the window. “Is that the same general who tried to, oh yeah, kill us all? That one?” Lorna inclined her head in agreement. 

“He has the Sun Summoner,” said Kaz. 

“Was this your plan all along? To have the general get her back so you can take her again?” Inej sounded angry.

“As much of a shit move that is, it’s awfully convenient,” said Lorna, crossing her arms. To her surprise, Kaz sighed and shook his head.

“My plan is to get us across the Fold,” he corrected. “We aren’t prepared for another fight.”

“I don’t know. I’m up for another shot at him,” Lorna smirked, catching her fist in her other hand. She had energy built up by now, and she wanted it all fired at the Darkling.

“Are you sure? You created one of the largest streams of fire in history, and you missed,” Kaz sneered.

“Well, I didn’t want to scorch you.”

“It was a narrow street.”

“Semantics,” Lorna waved her hand.

“So you’re not going to take another run at Alina? And you’re really willing to let a million kruge go?” Inej questioned. 

“We can’t do it without you,” Kaz admitted. 

“Been saying that since day one,” said Jesper. Lorna nodded; as much as she disagreed with Inej’s cause, she couldn’t imagine their life without her, let alone any job. 

“And you’ve made your position perfectly clear. Once we land in Novokribirsk, it’s your choice what you do next.” Lorna believed Kaz would stay true to his word, but she wondered if Inej would actually leave after they crossed.

“Okay,” the Suli girl accepted the conditions. 

“Hang on,” Jesper as Kaz stood up. “Are we talking about boarding a skiff with people who will recognize us?”

“People who don’t like us very much,” Lorna added under her breath, realizing Jesper’s point. The Darkling wouldn’t forget her face now, not after the stunt she pulled in Ryevost, even if he had Alina under his control again. 

“We’ll have to blend in. Who else was on that skiff?” Kaz asked Inej. 

“Some people from the winter fete. Dignitaries from Kerch and Novyi Zem on their way back home.”

“Now they’re audience to one more light show,” said Lorna, visualizing her idea. With a smile, she turned. “Jesper, how did you enjoy playing a Zemini guard?”

Kaz watched out of the corner of his eye as Lorna carefully edited the papers. Counterfeiters were common in Ketterdam, but those who specialized in forgeries were novelty. Lorna had fully given herself to the craft, becoming one of the best Kaz had ever had the pleasure of working with. He predicted she could recreate the signatures of the Merchant Council with charcoal from the fireplace. He often wondered what her own handwriting looked like.

Lorna clicked her tongue.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that. What is it?” asked Kaz, leaning over the table to inspect her work. She glanced up at him and quietly sighed.

“I don’t like this paper,” she said in a small voice. He couldn’t help but scoff and roll his eyes. “Don’t give me that! I’m allowed to have my preferences, this is a touch too flimsy for my liking.”

Out of the top of his vision, he caught sight of Jesper in front of the mirror, donning the colorful Novyi Zem ambassador’s suit. It was hard to miss, Kaz couldn’t help but worry it would be a problem.

“You look fine,” Inej assured, appearing from around the corner, dressed in a more inconspicuous grey.

“Oh, I look more than fine,” Jesper teased, more than happy with his appearance. Leave it to him to lift their spirits.

“Well, I finished editing their papers,” Lorna announced, distributing everyone’s newest identities. “Should be enough to get us through the checkpoint and onto the skiff.” Jesper leaned over to look, his nose scrunching at something on the paper.

“Huh? No one is going to believe I’m that old,” he said, readjusting his hat.

“You tell yourself that,” Kaz teased. While Jesper gawked and pouted, Lorna, to his surprise, broke into a fit of giggles. He honestly didn’t know she was still capable; maybe she was sleep deprived, or maybe it was a sign they were moving in the right direction.

All four of them had made it through the checkpoint with ease, supporting Lorna’s skills in forgery. A short distance away, the Fold thundered, reminding her of what they were about to do. We’re crossing the Fold on the Darkling’s skiff. Crossing the Fold with the Darkling. 

Lorna was convinced if she ran the phrase enough times through her head, it wouldn’t mean anything anymore. But it was all for naught when she felt heat crackle under her nails. She stopped in her tracks, causing the others to do the same.

“What is it?” Jesper asked quietly. Lorna only turned to look over her shoulder, watching as Alina and Alexander exited his tent. Her hair was done up and she was wrapped in a black velvet cloak, he walked behind her. Heat filled the air as Lorna’s heart broke, seeing the Sun Summoner trapped in the same spot she was once in, by the Darkling’s side. 

She couldn’t save her now. All she could do was hope that once Alina tore down the Fold, she’d be able to find a way to free herself and put Aleksander in the ground where he belonged.

Lorna shook her head and walked with the group onto the skiff, keeping her head down. The Crows huddled toward the back, avoiding the actual dignitaries that awaited on deck. Lorna hid herself behind Kaz as the Darkling and Alina joined them, taking post near the front of the skiff. He removed her cloak, revealing a golden dress underneath.

A lamb dressed for slaughter, Lorna thought bitterly. It didn’t matter if she tore down the Fold or not; Alina would either fail and become an enemy of the people, or succeed and remain under the Darkling’s control. Either way, she’d end up a martyr.

She flinched as the Squaller stationed on the upper deck summoned the wind and started their journey. The wall of shadow loomed over them all, inviting them inside for what was sure to be an easy ride. Even shadows can lie.

“Good news?” said Jesper, “It’s just as terrifying as I remember.”

“Except this time we’re going in completely exposed,” Inej countered.

“But we aren’t the only ones exposed,” Lorna added. “And at least this way, we can see what’s coming.”

A crackle of thunder startled them all. Lorna could hear even Kaz’s breath catch.

“If I’m meant to die today, and any of you three survive, make sure I have an open casket,” Jesper requested with a sliver of fear in his voice.

“And make sure I’m burned,” said Lorna. She knew of death, she couldn’t feel it over her now, but it was no guarantee. She lived every day like it was her last, whether by her own volition or by fate’s design. 

“No one’s dying today,” Kaz insisted. She noticed his gaze flicker toward her. “No mourners.” Among them it passed for ‘good luck’, but Lorna knew it was something more. A reminder that no matter what they did, no one would miss people like them. There was no use in being good or civil. The rest of them finished the phrase.

“No funerals.” 

*zolotse: "little piece of gold/precious" in Russian *milaya: "darling" in Russian

Currently working on the official Fire in the Water playlist! Unlike my previous works, this playlist is going to be encompassing all the themes, and some of them are just very silly to be in an SoC playlist😅 I'll make an announcement when it's ready!

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Chapter 6: Blue in the Face

Fire burns blue when it is extremely hot, typically between 2,600°F and 5,400°F. This indicates the fire has achieved complete combustion, where fuel and oxygen burn at maximum efficiency. Copper chloride (CuCl₂) is also used as a colorant in pyrotechnics to create a blue-green flame.

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, OOC Kaz, past trauma, encounter with past abuser, $uicidal ideations

They had stopped in Ryevost, far enough away from the Little Palace and the Grisha looking for their missing Sun Summoner. Lorna still couldn’t believe Alina was simply in the trunk of their carriage, oblivious as to who she hitched a ride with. They knew as soon as they stopped, she would try and find a way out; hence, the crew gathered around the back of the carriage.

She did what Lorna would have done, heated the bolt from the inside and pried it loose. Clever. If only she could use her powers to sense she had an audience before she opened the chest. Instead, Alina's eyes widened at the sight of Lorna and the Crows waiting for her. And Jesper’s gun. 

Very slowly, she climbed out, jumping down onto solid ground, keeping her hands outstretched. She looked scared, but not the kind that would have her cower away to the furthest corner. She was ready to fight.

“We don’t want any trouble,” said Jesper, calmly, though he kept a hand on his pistol. 

“Neither do I, so I’ll just be on my way,” she took a step to leave, but Kaz blocked her path with his cane. 

“Clearly, you want out of East Ravka. But we can help you. We have a secure route through the Fold,” Jesper tried to reassure her, Inej nodded in agreement. Lorna knew their methods wouldn’t work, but she let them try.

“I prefer to travel alone.”

“Don’t be rash. You stick with us, everybody gets what they want.”

“I’m not being anyone’s captive ever again. So step aside and let me pass.”

“Alina?” Lorna spoke up, catching her attention. She flinched but looked over, clearly recognizing her. It was her turn. She knew what to say. “Did he show you who he was? Who he truly was underneath the glamour?” Alina relaxed a little, realizing who she was talking about. Lorna tried to keep her rage and sorrow subdued. “The monster? The manipulator?”

“...Baghra told me,” she said with a slight quiver, as though she had finally come to terms with the truth she had been told. “She told me about him, and about… about you. What he did.” 

Saints, bless that old hag. Lorna felt the others’ eyes on her. Another secret up in the air. She took a deep breath and said what she wished someone had said to her all those years ago.

“When I ran from him, I was alone. There was no one I could turn to, no one who could help. You’re not a captive. And you’re not alone, not with us.” Lorna extended her hand, hoping she would take it, even if the touch of skin would destroy her. She could see the girl fighting, contemplating her choices. 

“Please,” she said, “just step aside and let me pass.”

Lorna couldn’t help but furrow her brow. She wanted Alina to take her hand, she wanted her to be different. Her heat flickered out. 

“I’m afraid we can’t let that happen,” Kaz said, stepping closer. Lorna couldn’t stop Jesper in time as he grabbed ahold of his gun, the next thing she knew, Alina tossed up her hands, blinding them. Lorna crumbled and screamed in pain, both from the stinging sensation on her eyelids and from the ache in her heart. The same could be said for the tears that followed suit. 

When she could finally open her eyes again without wincing in pain, Lorna could make out that Alina was gone and Inej was still standing, staring off in the distance. 

“You just let her go?” she wondered aloud. No, no, no, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I wasn’t going to just grab her and make her a captive again,” Inej protested. 

“It’s not like we were going to tie her up.”

“She’s a living Saint, Lorna. I thought you of all people would believe in them. In her!” 

“Why should I? When has being self-righteous ever saved me?” Lorna didn’t know why she was so angry. She couldn’t justify it but she felt it was real. Aleksander was laughing at her, teasing her for not being able to think straight. Why was there no one to help her? Why was there no one to set her free? Why was Inej just standing there taking it? “While your Saints coddled you, spoiled you, and fed you hope, they abandoned me.”

“You think I’m spoiled? I had to survive the Menagerie, I had to kill a man!”

“And I killed a man when I was 16 years old! But what does it matter? If you were going to just let her go, why are you even here?”

“Lorna!” Kaz snapped. “That’s enough.” He moved her back with his cane. She didn’t even realize she had gone to tower over Inej, didn’t notice the tears turning to steam as they ran down her face. 

Lorna finally took a breath and looked at the others, really looked at them. Inej’s jaw was set and her eyes were hardened, having every right to be angry at someone who she thought was on her team. Jesper was the one who looked upset, having gotten caught in the middle of their sudden squabble. And Kaz… he looked at her like he did that night on the roof.

She felt that urge to follow gravity again. 

Instead, she relaxed her stance and hung her head, forcing herself to cool down. Kaz nodded for her to come to the side of the carriage, no doubt to scold her for her outburst. She was used to the disappointment. She wished he would stop looking at her like that.

“I need you to stay level-headed, Solovey,” he said in a low gravel. “I’m on your side, Inej shouldn’t have let her go. But if we’re going to make it through the rest of this trip we need to not be at each others’ throats.”

Lorna only nodded. Such a small, almost petty, squabble, and already it had left a gaping hole inside. One of many. One of these days she could float away… is that why Kaz spoke so gently to her? Or was it because she was a volatile bomb?

“It was a lot, seeing the Darkling and seeing Alina-...” she choked.

“And her apparent lightshow?”

“Under his spell,” she corrected. She saw herself in the girl. What was the sun if not a giant ball of fire? “So, she summons light. Big deal. She’s not a Saint, she’s just a powerful Grisha. I was upset at Inej because she may have cost us the job. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t lie. It’s rude,” he copied her. She almost smirked. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I knew you couldn’t handle it. I need that fire to keep burning.”

Lorna looked up at him then. Since when did he care? Had Inej really made him so soft? She saved his life in the chapel, was that all it took? He gave up the Crow Club so Inej could join them on this job, only to put herself back in the cage when she had cost them their million-kruge target. Surely, he knew how weak and sentimental she had made him. Kaz would need to find a way around it if Lorna was going to stay on his crew. She knew what sentiment did to people. 

“I’m going to have Jesper and Inej try and look for her. I need you to fence off your ballgown,” he said, straightening and averting his gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Lorna replied. It was back to work then. Breaking down would have to wait until later.

The searing pain in his leg had finally settled, so now all that was left was the pain in his chest. Kaz could have easily turned into Dirtyhands, turned all of Ryevost upside down just for a million kruge. But he was a fool to be like any other boy who liked a girl. She saved him and Alina. She was everything he wasn’t. Who was he that she would sink down to his level?

Inej entered the tavern and sat across from him. 

“No horses missing at the stables, so…” she trailed off. Inej knew she wasn’t off the hook. Lorna had already said all the things he felt, granted, with a different kind of rage than what he had. He still had his reasons.

“Are you going to tell me why the target got away?” he started, slowly looking up at her, still moving the coin he snatched between his gloved fingers. She huffed, her eyes flickering upwards, almost as though she were asking her Saints for strength to deal with him. 

“I let her go,” she admitted. “My performance was subpar, I'll admit. But what about Lorna, huh?”

“At least she was trying to do her job. The same one you were hired for.” Kaz didn’t want to think that Inej was truly so blind to what she had done. 

“Yes, the job was to pick up a fake for an easy million kruge. We found a living Saint who can summon the sun,” she said. Reverence still cradled her eyes.

“A good magician is a good con artist. The trick,” he held up the coin he fiddled with up between them, “is to make it look real.” Moving his hands over it, he made it disappear. It was one of the easiest slight-of-hand tricks he knew. 

“This is different. You saw her summon with your own eyes,” Inej argued, unimpressed.

“The best illusions are the most convincing.” Kaz leaned back in his seat. “That’s the game.”

“You can hide behind your cynicism, but I believe she’s the real thing.”

“I don’t see you falling to your knees to worship every Heartrender or Squaller we meet.” Even Lorna, as impressive as her skills were, were just the effects of a well trained Grisha.

“This is different,” Inej emphasized every word. “Her power is a miracle. I won’t betray my faith.” They weren’t getting anywhere at this rate. She couldn’t make him a believer, and he couldn’t make her a realist.

“Pious as that may be, we cannot work effectively as a crew if you’re making decisions based on religious zeal,” he said. Her argument with Lorna was evidence enough. Inej’s face hardened, mirroring his.

“Is that a threat to return me to Heleen?”

“Either we get the target, or Heleen gets the Crow Club and Pekka gets whatever’s left.” Inej’s eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.

“Wait, why would Heleen get the Crow Club?”

Fuck. There was no way to recover, no way to talk his way out of this blunder and explain how pathetic he was. He could hear Inej call his name as he got up and left.

Lorna felt the heft of Ravkan cash as she readjusted her bag over her shoulder. The silver headpiece, gold choker, and dress all sold for a fine price, enough to give Kaz some comfort in whatever plan he had next, if he was even capable of feeling comfort. She had to believe he knew what to do now; Alina wouldn’t let herself be captured again, so the only thing to do now was get as far from the capital as they could before the Darkling came looking. 

She walked past the local stables, glancing at the horses gathered around their troughs. Lorna stopped in her tracks, resting her arms on the fence to watch the animals graze. 

She felt the ache again, the feeling of homesickness for a place that wasn’t her home. 

How long had it been since she last indulged in the memories of her childhood, growing up in the Little Palace? Did she even have anything worth remembering that wasn’t tainted by shadows? Lorna had survived so much. And for what?

One of the horses slowly made its way over to her, sniffing at her sleeve. Lorna couldn’t help but smile and stroke the bridge of its nose. It chuffed in delight.

“He likes you,” said a soft voice behind her. Inej’s voice. Lorna sighed, of course the Wraith found her. “Have you worked with horses before?”

“I used to,” Lorna replied, reaching over to run her hand over the horse’s neck. Inej slowly approached, standing at the fence with her. “When I used to ride at the Little Palace, I had a Thoroughbread. I called him Carrot Top.”

Everyone else would laugh when he would rest his chin on top of her head or smack her with the greens of a carrot, but Lorna knew it was how he showed affection. She couldn’t have asked for a better companion, praising Sankt Mattheus for bringing them together, her only regret was how hard she had pushed him to get her to the Shadow Fold as fast as possible… and not saying goodbye when she crossed.

“He always seemed to know when I needed to ride. Where I needed to go.”

Lorna was so tired, the moonlight and tears made her eyes ache and the constant movement made her entire body sore. But her heart was what hurt the most. It was the only thing that motivated her to keep going. She wouldn’t dare look back.

Carrot Top whinnied but kept up his canter. Lorna bent forward and brushed her hand over his mane in apology. They couldn’t keep going like this, but she had to; she grabbed the reins, wrapped it around the pommel of the saddle, then tied it to her wrist. She leaned forward again, murmuring in Carrot Top’s ear.

“Go.” That was all it took for the horse to sense her desperation. He chuffed and picked up speed, running at a full gallop while Lorna passed out from exhaustion. 

“Horses are a good judge of character,” said Inej, startling her out of the memory. “My father tried to get me to ride, but the horse knew I was afraid of it.”

“You were afraid of a horse?”

“I didn’t like how it chomped its teeth!” Inej defended herself. Lorna chuckled, still unable to believe that she had once been afraid. Then again, she had been too. 

“I’m-” she paused, making sure she chose the right words, “I’m sorry for going off at you. Tensions were high and I-... don’t have much of an excuse.” Inej scooted closer with a smile that emulated grace. She must have had practice for whenever Kaz put up a fuss. 

“Thank you for apologizing. And I think, as usual, you are right. Tensions were high and I felt… deceived,” she admitted. Lorna raised a brow.

“What did he say now?” she asked. Whatever time the two did share, it was often spent complaining about Kaz. The Suli girl sighed, the horse’s ears flickered toward her as though he would listen to her troubles as well. 

“Like you, he blamed me for letting Alina go. But he doesn’t even believe that her power is real. He told me ‘we cannot work effectively as a crew if I’m making decisions based on religious zeal’,” she quoted with her fingers in the air. Lorna pressed her lips together, refraining from agreeing with their boss. It was Inej’s time to vent, not be lectured. “I’m not willing to kidnap a living Saint. Kidnapping a person was a stretch as it was. I just wish he hadn’t put up the Crow Club for Tante Heleen’s collateral.” 

“...So do I,” Lorna muttered and lowered her head. Of course she found out, and of course Lorna wasn’t happy with it either. She had made a home out of that place, and Kaz was willing to throw it all away. Though by now she had a pattern of running from ruined homes. 

The horse nickered, nudging her with his nose. 

“He seems to agree with our dilemma,” said Inej with a smile, reaching out to stroke his nose. 

“I don’t think a horse is going to convince Kaz that this was a bad idea,” Lorna shook her head, though the image of Kaz arguing with one was amusing. “But a horse can get us out of here when the time comes.”

Kaz looked up from his pocketwatch as Jesper set his bags on the table with a thud, slouching in the chair next to him. 

“The alarm trigger is set,” the Zemini reported.

“If we don’t move soon, the Black General will be on top of us,” said Kaz. He made his decision. “We can’t waste any more time looking for the girl.”

Lorna and Inej came by and joined them at the table. 

“Lorna got a hold of some horses and stashed the rest of our gear,” Inej folded her hands on the table, Lorna nodded along, though her face was blank. She must have known the Darkling’s arrival was inevitable. “I settled the tab with the rest of the money she got from fencing her dress. There’s nothing left.” Things were looking dismal, even by Ketterdam standards.

“We’re really going to leave empty handed then?” Jesper questioned.

“I’m just happy to leave,” Lorna mumbled, shaking out her hand. Kaz wondered if she was conscious she was doing it, or if it was an instinct anymore. He wished he could turn back time, do the job differently. Do the job right. Maybe even find the strength to turn it down, no matter how good the sound of a million kruge sounded on his tongue. It would have saved them all this trouble and, for lack of better terms, heartache.

He’d turn back time even further back if he could. And he knew he wasn’t the only one.

Kaz didn’t have the money to make wishes. An explosion sounded only a short distance away, followed by frightened screams.

“Our alarm,” said Jesper, already donning his hat and grabbing his pistols out of their holsters.

“Split up. Grisha fight better together than they do alone,” Lorna advised. 

“Rendezvous at the fountain,” said Kaz, standing up and slinging the satchel over his shoulder. They left the tavern with the patrons eager to see the commotion; Lorna made a run for it into the darkened alleys, not risking the chance that the other Grisha might see her. Kaz wouldn’t blame her if she ran for good and never turned up again. She had every right, while he had no right to miss her.

Just in time, a squad of Grisha walked into the courtyard, easily picking them out amongst the locals. An Inferni, Squaller, and Heartrender. The Inferni found the blade attached to Inej’s waist; he could see the familiar rage even from a distance. It must have been her brother that Inej killed in the chapel.

“Move!” Kaz shouted just as the Inferni screamed and sent a ball of flame toward his Wraith. 

Growing up in the streets, Kaz had learned to be quite spry despite his limp. He couldn’t afford to look back as he ran, taking every random street he came across to throw off the Squaller that followed him. 

He hid himself among a bustling crowd, grabbing a wide brimmed hat in an attempt to blend in with the people. Twice in a single week, Grisha were out to kill him; though he would predict maybe three times, given Lorna’s mood. He could almost sense the Squaller behind him, trying to track him.

“What’s the best way to steal a man’s wallet?”

“Knife to the throat?” asked Inej.

“Gun to the back?” said Jesper.

Lorna tilted her head, eyes narrowing before scoffing. The barest of smiles graced her lips.

“Lorna? Do share.” 

“Tell him you’re going to steal his watch.”

“Very good. Why?”

“You have control of his attention, make use of it.”

Kaz kept walking, resisting the urge to run like hell and make himself noticeable. He slipped around a corner, spying the Squaller tracking the hat that was no longer on Kaz’s head, mistakenly pulling the other man aside. She shoved him away and growled in frustration. It was enough of a break. He continued his pace, twisting down side streets until he had to force himself to slow down and catch his breath.

He found he would lose it within the next minute, standing face to face with the Darkling as he emerged from the shadows. 

Shit. Kaz had to be smarter and more careful than he ever was before. Screw the million, this was the Shadow Summoner himself. 

“I know you kidnapped my Sun Summoner,” he said, his smooth voice restrained, taking careful steps toward Kaz. He sounded like any sweet-talking swindler. “And now you’re going to tell me where you stashed her.”

“We didn’t take her,” said Kaz, taking a few wobbly steps back. “She fled on her own.”

That stopped the Darkling in his tracks. Was that all it took? Five words to shatter whatever fantasy he had himself believe about Alina? So he was just like any other man, weak for a girl.

“Where is she? I won’t ask again,” he said.  

“I don’t know,” Kaz insisted. “It was pretty clear she wasn’t interested in being a captive anymore.” Even with all his humanity gone, Kaz could easily see that fact. “She’s probably halfway to Novyi Zem by now,” he goaded, raising a brow. The general glowered, allowing the shadows to crawl to his feet and surround him. Kaz could feel a buzz in the air. He let his arm hang down, carefully reaching into his satchel for the flashbomb.

“You should have stayed in Ketterdam, Mr. Brekker,” Kirigan growled, bringing up his hands. A line began to form in front of him. The infamous Cut.

What happened next was a blur of light, darkness, and motion. The Darkling thrust his arms up, launching the blade of shadows at him. Kaz threw the flashbomb onto the ground hoping to disorient him, but it wasn’t enough, someone had pushed him out of the way. When everything had finally settled, Kaz saw Lorna standing where he once was, staring down the Darkling, who was still blinking hard to recover from the flashbomb. 

Kaz saw her take shuddering breaths as the pair drank in the sight of each other. 

“Lorna,” the Darkling recognized, with a strange lilt in his voice, “I had almost forgotten about you.” 

Lorna’s eyes widened and nostrils flared.

“You forgot me?” she echoed. “After all I did for you, everything you made me do, and you almost forgot me?” she exclaimed. The air was warm, Kaz could hear the venom. “It’ll never be enough for you, will it? All this, everything you’ve done. You’re still just a little boy afraid of the dark.”

“And you’re just a little girl! So lost in the world, clawing your way around to people who don’t care,” he spat before quickly composing himself, standing tall. “Yet, it seems you’ve clawed your way back to me.”

Kaz saw a tongue of flame rise up from the back of her neck where the snake bones were embedded. Her amplifier. 

“You… you filthy, scheming,” flames began to envelop her body, “lying,” her hair blew back from the force of air “egotistic,” the angry orange turned a searing blue, “self-indulgent, son of a-” she cut herself off, sending a giant column of blue fire barreling toward the Darkling, filling the street.

Kaz shielded his face from the blast, but then acted without a second thought. There was no water lapping at him, no cold body brushing his skin, Jordie’s glazed eyes weren’t there. There was only heat as he grabbed her hand and ran before the Darkling could have a chance to recover.

Lorna was still seething with adrenaline by the time the sun had risen; she hadn’t burned like that since the night she left Ravka. He forgot her. And how easily she had been replaced, too. Every sliver of praise he had given her had truly been weightless on his silver tongue. She couldn’t get the image of Alexander’s smug face out of her head. She wanted to watch it melt with everything she had left in her. She wanted to burn in that street with him if that’s what it took; Kaz shouldn’t have pulled her out-

He grabbed her hand.

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone did so. She didn’t know he was capable. Lorna looked down at the hand he had touched, almost expecting it to look different. There weren’t even any blisters. She glanced back up at Kaz. 

He hadn’t looked at her or spoken to her since they stopped at the water fountain to rendezvous with the rest of the crew. Lorna didn’t blame him or Jesper—who had arrived shortly after they did—for keeping their distance. Heat still radiated from her.

Lorna flinched as Inej jumped down from the nearby ledge, holding her side and groaning in pain. Blood coated her hand.

“Inej!” Kaz cried. She winced as Jesper helped her up by her arm. Lorna saw Kaz’s jaw clench as he took a step toward her. She tilted her head; he could take her hand but not Inej’s.

“The Inferni, she’s dead,” she said, straining through the pain. Kaz nodded. At least that was taken care of.

“Friend of yours?” Jesper looked up at Lorna. 

“They aren’t my friends,” she snapped before muttering to herself, “I should have burnt that place down when I had the chance.”

“Well, you can’t manage a horse. Not even riding double,” Jesper said to Inej. “We’ll have to come up with another plan.”

“That’s a nice looking ride,” said Lorna, staring at the ornate, black carriage. She remembered one too many a rendezvous in the fine upholstery; she wanted it ruined.

“Too noticeable. Let’s think of something else,” said Kaz. Lorna ignored him, having too much energy to waste on being safe and sensible. She brushed by him, marching right up to the carriage and pulling open the doors. To her surprise, David—the quietly clever Durast that Genya had fallen in love with—looked up from his book, just as surprised to see her.

“Lorna? Is that-”

She knocked him out with a single punch, not caring for a reunion, and pulled him out, tossing his unconscious body aside.

“There. Get in. Let’s go,” she motioned for the others to climb inside. If they had any protests or concerns, they didn’t say. Jesper helped Inej climb inside and set her down, Kaz sat across from her. Jesper went to climb up to drive the horses, but Lorna beat him to it.

“If you want, I can-”

“Jesper, please,” Lorna tried to keep herself calm, not wanting to fight, “just let me. I can’t do small spaces right now.” To her relief, he nodded and climbed inside the carriage; as soon as the doors closed, Lorna snapped the reins, starting their escape from Ryevost.

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Do you wish Matthias didn't die?

Yes, I wish he didn't die

No, I think he should stay dead

Voting ended onJun 6

Regardless of canon and despite all meanings associated with his death, would you want him to remain alive?

This is both out of genuine curiosity and for the sake of my own fanfic going on right now. Feel free to explain your reasoning in the comments too.

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Chapter 5: Fete of Them All

Waiting for the countdown, Happy Birthday, dry heave, I am not okay, brain rot in a pretty dress, I'm a hot mess

- dodie, Hot Mess

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, past trauma, reference to past abuse/abuser, reference to past drug use, violence/gore

Lorna tried not to stare at the foreboding gates to the Little Palace. The walls mocked her homecoming, now masquerading as a theater performer instead of the Grisha she once was. And she’d have it no other way. 

She stood with Jesper, Inej, Arken, Marko, and a few of his other performers as the guard inspected their papers. Admittedly, she was mildly paranoid; the guard could somehow recognize her, the whole caravan could be turned away, or Kaz could be discovered.

Where is he anyway? Lorna thought to herself, glancing around for where her boss could have gone off too. In the days they had traveled up to the capital, Lorna tried to avoid socializing with the other performers, hiding herself away in the corners with Inej so she could gather what was left of her strength and dignity. She knew Kaz would find a way to follow them, either swiping a horse or swindling someone for a ride, but didn’t make it her business to keep track, better for a strong alibi. She hadn’t seen him since the night before. 

“That one is our invitation to perform, signed by the Queen,” said Marko to the guard, pointing out a particular sheet. The guard looked up at him sternly, the troupe director backed away and looked over at Jesper, who gave a reassuring nod.

“This writ allows you access to the grounds, the main ballroom, and nowhere else,” the guard announced in a loud voice. “You are employed by the Queen. You are not her guests. You are to stay together as a group at all times. No guns, no knives, no weapons of any kind.”

Lorna lowered her head to hide her smile, knowing she, Jesper, and Inej would have been found guilty of possessing all of the said items. 

“Punishment for violation of these rules ranges from being fired to being fired upon. Now, do we all understand these rules?”

“No!” a voice shouted a short distance away. Lorna whipped her head around to find a man diving underneath one of the caravan carts, trying and failing to escape from guards as they pulled him out by the leg.

“Oh, for Saints’ sake,” the head guard sighed. Clearly, this was a recurring problem.

“The Sun Summoner! I just want to see her!” the man shouted, pushing off the guard and trying to rush past them all. A flurry of guards surrounded him, stopping his pursuit. One of those guards looked awfully familiar. 

Oh, you bastard, Lorna smiled to herself, recognizing Kaz disguised among the guards. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” the head guard came close, inspecting the intruder as he was pulled to his feet. She saw the discreet look and nod he threw at Kaz and figured he was bribed to cause a distraction. “Do we really need the entire corps for one man? Come on. The rest of you, post up now.”

Kaz fell into formation with the rest of the guards and started to march toward the gate; Lorna smirked at him as he passed, wondering if it was just any uniform he looked good in, or if there were limits. Perhaps she could convince him to go undercover as a stadwatch officer. Once they finished kidnapping Alina Starkov, of course. 

“Here’s the plan. I’ll walk the route our target will take from the ballroom to the dinner event and look for an ambush point,” said Kaz once they had rendezvoused. 

He couldn’t keep going. Forcing himself to keep an even pace brought more pain to his leg. Kaz veered to the side and rested against an alcove that led to one of the suites, wincing and massaging his thigh. 

“You should have one of us with you,” Inej suggested.

“I’ll manage,” Kaz said through his teeth. He didn’t care if they knew he was lying. He wished Lorna wouldn’t give him that look. “You and Lorna can’t blow your cover this early, and Jesper needs to plot out our escape route.”

Glancing behind him down the hall to make sure he wouldn’t be spotted, Kaz steeled himself and continued his route. Down the same halls Lorna once walked. He couldn’t help but wonder if she felt the same pain he did, except in her heart instead of her leg. 

“There’s a gap in the schedule between events, so they may place her in a room here, away from the crowd, somewhere safe.”

He came to a stop at the end of the hall, staring at the expanse of nothing on the wall. Kaz looked at his miniature copy of the map, reassuring himself that there was indeed supposed to be a room there.

He felt the wall, unable to detect even the barest crack. Nothing moved as he pressed against it. 

“This would be where they feel she’s the most protected and therefore, the best place to grab her. We just need to find a way in and have someone ready with a distraction to give us cover on our way out.”

Footsteps echoed from around the corner. Kaz moved as quickly as he could and took cover behind the door of the entrance to the next hall. He watched through the crack as a Durast faced the empty wall and moved her hands. He heard mechanical clicks from within before she pushed open a panel.

Inside, he glimpsed two identical black keftas and an Inferni, waiting for the others to attend to her.

“That’s where we grab her.”

Lorna ran her routine again, repeating the trick she still managed to stumble over; tossing the fan up in the air, spinning, and catching it with enough time to whip the silk onto the ground. This time, she blamed the shoes that came with her costume for the misstep. Marko dressed her up in a rather extravagant performing outfit, marketing her as a ‘silk dragon’, whatever that meant. She didn’t like it, but it was clever. She did her routine again. 

“This is how I find you after all this time,” a low, velvet voice startled her. Lorna froze, knowing who it was without having to look.

“Genya,” she said before slowly turning to face her old friend, “if it’s any comfort to you, I didn’t think you would find me at all.” The Tailor hadn’t changed, if anything her eyes had hardened. Maybe now she would believe the truth of what Lorna had gone through. 

The person next to her was a more curious subject, dressed in velvet grey robes, looking between them to try and break the tension.

“Who’s this?” asked Lorna, nodding to her.

“This is A-... Lina,” Genya cleared her throat and introduced. She still couldn’t make a cover story to save her life. “Lina, this is Lorna Solovey. She used to live here at the palace.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I liked your dancing,” said ‘Lina’, wringing her hands together and smiling. 

“Thank you,” Lorna nodded. 

“So, you abandoned the Grisha to join a theater troupe,” said Genya, crossing her arms with disdain. 

“Is that what they told you?” Lorna raised a brow, trying to mask the hurt. No matter what she told herself or anyone else, leaving was one of the hardest things she had to do, even with all she endured. “I’d explain myself, but I get the feeling you won’t listen to a word I say.”

“Saints, you even sound different,” Genya faced the sky in disbelief.

“Point in case,” Lorna said to Lina. “I left because I was tired of fighting. I couldn’t keep up anymore, I was losing touch with myself.”

“And yet you found your fans alright,” Genya finished, crossing her arms. Lorna didn’t entitle her to a response to that comment, only running her tongue over her teeth as though she were gathering venom. 

“Perhaps you should go. Wouldn’t want to spoil the show.” Lorna kept herself calm and steady, despite the roaring heat in her veins. “Though I can already tell it’ll be a tough crowd.”

She turned her attention back to her companion and put on one of the best, polite, smiles she could manage.

“It was good to meet you, Lina. Enjoy the rest of the fete.” With that, Lorna rested her fans over her shoulder and walked away, trying to blink away tears. She fought hard not to look back. Luckily, Jesper jogged up beside her.

“Hey, are you okay? What was that?” he asked. Lorna stopped and took a breath, her tears burned away. She glanced over her shoulder.

“We have our Sun Summoner.”

Jesper followed her gaze.

“Well, that’s news.”

“You’re sure it was her?” asked Kaz. They all regrouped in one of the wagons; Lorna helped Inej label the map and Jesper reconstitute what they saw.

“I’m telling you, she’s part Shu,” Jesper affirmed. 

“Lorna?”

“Genya fumbled and almost called her ‘Alina’. That, and there was an energy in the air around her. Any well trained Grisha could sense it,” she replied, still looking over the Little Palace blueprint. 

“When exactly did you see her?” Kaz asked.

“Just after midday,” Jesper replied. 

“What’s in this room?” Inej asked, pointing to a small space on the map. Lorna leaned over, not recognizing the room.

“Fitting room,” Kaz replied. “It’s where she’ll go to change for dinner. And that’s where we’ll grab her.”

“Out of the way, clean lines of sight, easily controlled space. I like it,” Jesper nodded. Lorna agreed, seeing the action playing out in her head. 

“I’d like it too, if it had a door,” said Kaz.

“It doesn’t have a door?” Inej questioned. 

“I’m pretty sure it should have a door, Kaz. I remember rooms in the Little Palace having doors,” Lorna tilted her head.

“It doesn’t have one we can use,” Kaz corrected himself. Lorna clicked her tongue as she finally remembered.

“Ah, then it was one with a special Grisha lock. It takes a Materialnik to open it, usually a Durast,” she clarified. The Little Palace had very few of them, since all the people who needed to know of them were inside the Palace anyway.

“Is there no way to pick the lock?” asked Jesper. Lorna didn’t know of one.

“Actually, there is,” Arken finally spoke up. “I can get through the door.”

“How?” Kaz looked him up and down. 

“The locking mechanisms are Fabrikator-designed. Iron cogs that slide into place without a latch. But for one of us to open it, we’ll need a lodestone with a minimum 2,000 gauss external strength,” he said.

“Yeah, you’re saying words that mean nothing to me,” Lorna grumbled, massaging the side of her head. 

“It’s very hard to find,” Arken ignored her.

“It’s not like we’re just walking around with one of those in our pockets,” Jesper rolled his eyes. Arken ignored him too, grabbing his bag and reaching inside, pulling out a black stone and looking over at Jesper.

“You don’t want to keep it in your pocket for too long. Not if you’re intending on having children someday.” Jesper and Lorna leaned away from the rock. She wondered how many Grisha locks he had broken through if he had that within his possession, though it looked useful enough to club someone over the head with as well.

“Alright. Arken grabs the target. Lorna will be inside to cover him,” Kaz determined.

“You want the new guy to grab the million-kruge package?” Inej questioned as though Arken wasn’t in the room.

“The new guy knows his way around Grisha locks. Our futures depend on this.”

“I’m still hung up on the fact that I will be inside?” Lorna raised her hand. “They’ll know my face, Kaz, it’ll be too much of a distraction.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she deflated, realizing that it was what he wanted. 

“We’ll be setting up a ‘Lynx Flush’,” he replied, still meeting her stare. Oh… it made more sense now and took care of the problem with the new guy, but it still didn’t completely solve the problem of her recognizable face.

“We are?” Inej clarified, catching onto that plan. Jesper inclined his head, already accepting the idea.

“What’s a ‘Lynx Flush’?” Arked asked. Lorna almost felt bad that he asked.

“Lynx are pack hunters. Very smart. They’ll clear a path for the prey,” Inej explained, not quite answering his question. 

“So, I grab the Summoner, and you clear the path?”

“That’s right,” Kaz nodded, rolling up the map. He was so effortless in his deception, Lorna couldn’t help but admire him for it. “We do it before dinner. You grab. Lorna turns their gaze, Inej and I clear, and Jesper, make sure there’s a fast way out.”

The winter fete had begun and Lorna danced in the entryway courtyard as guests arrived. She perfected her routine, not only dazzling them with her flowing silks and impressive stunts, but also keeping a mental tab of the guests walking in. Ambassadors from all over were here tonight, and yet almost none of the women looked to be even close to her dress size. She needed a disguise before she could make her way inside.

And the lovely girl following one of the many foreign dignitaries had just what she needed.

Lorna, once again, was right. This fete was just like any other party for the elite, uninteresting and full of people he would have loved to pickpocket. If only Alina Starkov were a mere trinket dangling off of someone’s wrist. Kaz kept to his post, lowering his gaze as one of the many dignitaries passed him by into the other room, taking the chance to start his phase of the plan and spill a flute of champagne on himself.

He took a step back into full view of the nearby Corporalki, trying to “inconspicuously” wipe off his stained uniform.

“The Kaelish ambassador is clumsy when he’s drunk,” he explained with a nervous chuckle, once he had caught their attention.

“You can’t wear that in here. Get a replacement from laundry,” the taller, meaner looking one ordered.

“My orders are to-”

“You heard,” he cut him short.

“Yes. Sorry,” Kaz nodded and turned away, heading toward the laundry room, smirking at his own performance. 

Inej appeared first, making her way down the stairs wrapped in a hooded cloak to hide her performance costume. He handed her the uniform.

“Is it my size?”

“You have to ask?” he refuted. Kaz knew her better than she gave him credit for.

“Do you remember what happened last time we did this? Got me a man’s uniform,” she recalled.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Just be happy I’m eager to get out of this,” she nodded down to her costume before turning to climb back up the stairs. He shook his head at her; Inej was quite trivial. At the same time, Arken’s heavy footsteps approached. Kaz handed him his uniform disguise as well.

“See you at the meeting point,” Arken nodded, passing by to change downstairs. Kaz looked after him one last time. He wouldn’t miss the man, he was a nuisance and would jeopardize their mission to capture Alina alive. Still, Kaz could give him credit for his ingenuity, from one crook to another.

He waited a beat before making his way back up the stairs to rejoin the party. No one noticed his coming and going. Good. The only thing that looked different, now, was the figure carefully making her way down the hall. Kaz had to blink hard before he recognized Lorna in the green dress and white gloves, hiding the tattoos and scars that adorned her forearms; she walked with confidence, but kept herself demure, assuring she didn’t stand out. She caught sight of him and nodded her head, gesturing for him to draw near. He wove his way through the crowd, keeping her in his sights. 

“Tred carefully. I’ve heard whispers of the Black General’s appearance,” she warned under her breath. Even at a whisper, he could hear the seething venom. “How are we doing?”

“We're all dressed and waiting for sunrise,” he replied, looking over the crowd. “How is your modiste?”

“Indisposed. She was very- shit!” Lorna cut herself off and hid herself in Kaz’s shadow, trying not to make a scene. He resisted the urge to look behind him.

“What's wrong?”

With a quick breath, she looked right up at him. “Please, just play along.”

Before he could ask, she threw up her arms and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him close. His breath caught as he registered the warmth from her face. There was that warm, metallic scent. Kaz stumbled along with her as she dragged them away, fighting against the tide of water and skin.

It was over, soon enough. Lorna practically threw him out of her arms before keeling over, gasping for air in their newfound privacy of the linen closet. Kaz screwed his eyes shut, trembling as he caught his breath; even then it wasn’t enough to drown out Lorna’s panting or Jordie screaming at him from the Reaper’s Barge. Not even half a minute with someone’s arms around him, and he was on the verge of falling to his knees.

Both of them were.

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Kaz saw Lorna in no better shape than him, the muscles in her back rising and falling as she tried to compose herself. He glimpsed fragments of bone from the top of her dress.

“What was that?” he rasped. She looked over, her eyes still wild with panic; if he were in a mood to tease, he’d call her a feral beauty. Lorna sniffled and tried to straighten herself up.

“I was almost spotted,” she said, her voice weak. “I didn’t know what else to do. These two Inferni would have recognized me and blown our cover, even in this dumb dress.”

Kaz finally caught his breath as he realized what she had done. Lorna sacrificed both of their senses of safety to keep the job afloat. Foolishness and bravery all at once. 

“At least you look lovely,” he said, trying to move them along. Lorna huffed in disbelief.

“Please, the only thing that looks ‘lovely’ to you is cold hard cash,” she retorted, glaring at him. He had it coming. The sounds of delighted gasps from the crowds outside had him assume that it was safe for them to get back to their positions, as long as he could keep down the bile. Without another word, he exited the closet, still trying to shake off the sensation of her arms around him.

Stupid, stupid girl. Why is that your first instinct? Lorna scolded herself as she made her way out of the linen closet. Her heart still pounded and she could still feel Kaz through her gloves, his scent in her lungs. She needed to focus on where she was in the present, not waste time remembering where she was 5 years ago when he-

Oh Saints and their mothers… she was going to have to see His face again. Lorna considered going back to the linen closet, but it was too late, she took up a position in the hallway just outside the main ballroom. She spotted Kaz and Inej standing guard under the archways, waiting like everyone else to see the Sun Summoner, just as she stepped up onto the dais in the far edge of the room. Lorna’s heart ached.

She was wearing a black kefta with gold embroidery, gazing admirably—almost lovingly—at the man who stepped up with her. Lorna was too late to save her from his tantalizing grasp. Her heartache turned to dread as he turned around to address the audience.

Aleksander Kirigan, General of the Second Army, a Grisha who could summon shadows. The Darkling. A liar, manipulator, and narcissist. He had grown a beard since the last time Lorna saw him. She wished with all her might she could forget that face.

“Her name is Alina Starkov,” he introduced once the crowd had hushed. His voice rang in her ears, her heart jumped upon hearing it. “And she will bring liberation to us all.” The crowd parted as he stepped off the dais, allowing Alina to stand tall. Kirigan opened his arms wide, letting the silence hang in the air before startling everyone with a loud clap. Lorna flinched as shadows flooded the room, extinguishing all the lights; she could only make out Alina’s silhouette against the moonlight. 

Then… she summoned light. Wispy tendrils danced between her hands before condensing into a ball. Lorna couldn’t breathe as she watched how easily Alina brought forth another orb in her other hand, sending light to the crystal chandelier in the center of the room. It was real, she could feel it, but it frightened her to her core. The only thing that tore her attention away was the look Alina gave to Kirigan, as though she had power over him and all his desires. 

With a final burst of light, the demonstration ended. Alina brought her hands back to her chest, looking over the crowd, no doubt expecting applause. Instead, one by one, the guests kneeled down, proclaiming her Sankta Alina. Lorna almost joined them, her legs on the verge of giving out. A chance to run hadn’t come soon enough, someone started a round of applause and the crowds surrounded her and the Darkling. Lorna turned and marched down the hall, pushing past guests to get to one of the smaller courtyards. She couldn’t breathe, faces blurred.

She gasped as she finally made it outside, closing the door behind her. The fresh air provided sweet relief, quenching the fire that threatened to burst from her veins. She leaned back against the cold stone wall, imagining herself safe—as one could be—back in Ketterdam, working on her forgeries in the back room of the Crow Club, back in the days when she used to smoke cigarettes of jurda and whatever else they shoved in the paper. Before the other substances, before there was no other way to escape the pain. Both light and dark at once was simply too much, their faces too fresh and real. There was nothing she could do to stop it now except her job. 

Lorna walked along the edge of the wall toward the next hallway, stopping herself and staying inside the blindspot. Through the sheer curtains of the windows, she tracked a figure walking toward the secret dressing room. Alina’s decoy, with only a golden veil to distinguish her; Kaz said it was an Inferni being fitted, Lorna couldn’t help but pity the sacrificial lamb. She entered the room, there was nothing, then a single gunshot. A moment later, Arken, barely fitting into his uniform, came running out. Guards, hearing the commotion, were on him like a vulture on a corpse, surrounding him in under half a minute and dragging him away. Lynx? Flushed.

Arken’s capture was how they cleared a path to Alina. With that, Lorna’s job was done. She headed back inside, finding Kaz conversing with Inej; they spotted her, she signalled that Arken was dealt with. Kaz nodded and tilted his head, allowing her to leave and wait with Jesper. Finally. 

Lorna felt like a ghost floating toward the exit, weaving through the throngs of diplomats and keeping her head high. Approaching the door, however, the guards stood in her path. She resisted the urge to simply kill them. 

“Sorry, ma’am, but no one is allowed to leave yet,” the shorter one explained. 

“Are you serious?” she said, putting on a thicker Shu accent. “I had too much to drink and now with the light show, I am going to be sick. I need air.”

“General’s orders,” he insisted. She took a step closer.

“Well, your general can catch my vomit in his bare hands,” she hissed.

Lorna thanked the Saints they let her out before she had to actually bring up the contents of her stomach. Granted, it would have been easy, all she had to do was picture Kirigan’s face. 

Pausing halfway down the stairs, she leaned over and reached into the shrubbery, grabbing her stashed clothes, before finding Jesper with a fine looking carriage. 

“Jesper,” she hissed, calling his attention. Startled, he turned to her, smiling.

“Well, look at you, milady,” he complimented. She shook her head, but she was glad to see him. 

“Look while you can. This thing itches like lice.” Lorna paused to inspect him; his wild hair was even wilder, his shirt crooked. “Eugh. A tryst on the job? Really?” 

“Since everything was going so well. It is going well, right?” his tone became serious. Lorna opened the carriage door so she could step inside and change. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. Now, for once in your life, stay on the door.”

Kaz wanted to take a moment to congratulate himself for how long he had gone without his cane, but he was preoccupied with trying to escape the Inferni on his tail. An Inferni that wasn’t Lorna. He found his way to the chapel connected to the end of the Little Palace and limped down the aisle, looking for any other way to escape or hide. He knew he wasn’t Inej, he would have to fight his way out.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you, limping man?” he heard the Inferni say. Kaz was oddly glad that Lorna was more clever than her brethren when it came to insults. He heard the man climb up onto the pews, walking over them one by one. “You’re like a wounded spider in my house. You know what my sister and I do to spiders?”

He reached the edge of the pews, igniting his hand in flames, only to find that he was not there. Kaz struck from the side, knocking him down with a pedestal. He yelped and groaned as Kaz stood on his arm.

“Unlike a spider, I only need one good leg. However you,” he bashed the column onto his hand, the Inferni screamed in pain, “look like you need both hands.” He twisted, breaking bones, and knocked him out, finally able to catch his breath. But not for long, he had to move. Dropping the column, he limped away, only to hear a groan coming from behind him. The Inferni had—too quickly—recovered, standing and igniting his other hand in flame.

“Wrong,” he growled. Kaz swore he saw Jordie, waiting for him. Is this really it? As he was about to rain hellfire, the Inferni suddenly folded and dropped to the floor, a knife—one of her saints—dug into the back of his skull. Kaz looked up to see Inej, her hand still outstretched having thrown the blade. She looked like she belonged in the chapel, glorious yet afraid of her fate; he would call her Sankta Inej.

She jumped down from the mezzanine, shakily approaching the body. Kaz rounded the corner of pews, barely impressed with the blood that pooled from the Inferni’s head. But he saw the look on her face: her first kill. He didn’t care if she lost track of their target. So badly he wanted to hold her, run his fingers over her braid and tell her it would be alright. But hearing the guards in the distance, Kaz didn’t have time to work through his barriers. 

“We need to go,” he said, stepping over the body.

“I killed him,” she mumbled, unable to look away. 

“Inej, look at me.” She still didn’t. “Look at me,” he bent down, catching her gaze, “you saved my life.” Her rich brown eyes glistened with tears, realizing that while she betrayed her faith, she also saved them both. He could stare into them forever. He didn’t deserve it, or the sentiment. “Get your Saint and let’s go.”

He brushed past her toward the door, free from her spell.

Lorna would never say that she was bored out loud, lest she tempt the Saints, but she was bored. Waiting around had always been her least favorite part about doing jobs; there was no sign of Kaz or Inej, the only activity had been guards running past looking to find someone, but that had been several minutes ago. She and Jesper had taken cover by one of the nearby statues in the courtyard, keeping an eye on their carriage.

“Do you think we can convince Kaz to let us bring Milo back to Ketterdam?” asked Jesper.

“Barnaby. And no, he’ll probably want to cook him or some shit,” Lorna rolled her eyes. The Zemini tilted his head, agreeing with her point. She flexed her fingers, letting strings of fire stretch between them. Utterly bored. Even being upset at Kaz or mulling over the Darkling no longer held any merit.

Finally, however, something else happened. Jesper and Lorna ducked down behind the statue as someone left the palace from one of the side doors. Her hair was loose and she had a simple grey jacket, but there was no doubt that it was Alina Starkov herself. The pair watched as she glanced over her shoulder, making sure she wasn’t followed, before inspecting their carriage and opening the trunk in the back, climbing in and hiding herself away. Jesper quietly laughed in disbelief.

“You saw that too, right? That just happened?” Lorna questioned. Perhaps the exhaustion was playing tricks on her mind. Not a moment too soon, a pair of footsteps, one with a limp, resounded behind them. Kaz and Inej had returned, looking only a little worse for wear. 

“What happened? You okay?” Jesper asked, focusing on Inej. Lorna knew that look on her face.

“She’s real, Jesper. She made the light sing,” she said with reverence. Jesper looked to Kaz for the real answer.

“We lost her,” he said, still grumpy. Lorna took a deep breath, trying not to laugh out loud.

“Did we?” Jesper asked with a smile, leading them to the carriage. The one with Alina in the trunk.

“We don’t know where she is.”

“Don’t we?” Normally, Lorna would not condone Jesper’s humor on the job, but luck seemed to be on their side. “Just ask.”

Kaz and Inej paused as Lorna let a snicker escape as she climbed onto the carriage. Kaz sat next to Jesper at the reins and Inej stood with Lorna. 

“Just ask,” Jesper repeated with a shrug. Her boss sighed, not wanting to indulge the sharpshooter, but he was met with no other choice.

“Fine. Do we have a fix on where the target is?”

Jesper snapped the reins.

[ashes-2-ashes57cba-ver2]

Chapter 4: Acetone

Acetone: (CH₃)₂CO a colorless, highly flammable solvent sometimes used in a copy making technique that temporarily softens the toner of an image, allowing it to adhere onto a new surface. Heating calcium acetate Ca(CH₃COO)₂ can also produce acetone as a vapor through thermal degradation.

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, OOC Kaz Brekker, past trauma, I'm not a chemistry major I did the best research I could

“So… that went well.”

Crossing the Fold did, in fact, go well. At least by Lorna’s standards, which she would admit were very low. She was still alive, drinking Ravkan spiced cider that she, without shame, warmed up herself; there was no use in denying her powers to the others anymore. Just to the rest of the world.

“The Little Palace winter fete,” Arken sighed, tossing a brochure down on the bartop. Inej leaned over, skimming over it.

“Saints, it’s that time of year already?” Lorna groaned.

“What’s it like?” Jesper turned to ask her. “Since we now know why you know the palace so well.”

“Stuffy, boring,” Lorna began to list. She remembered his hands brushing over her collarbone and resting at the small of her back. She shook out her hand. “...Not fun, in hindsight.”

“There’s just no way we can find a way to the Sun Summoner during this ridiculous party. The palace will be crawling with Second Army,” Arken said, already sounding defeated. 

“That’ll be good,” Lorna swallowed the rest of her cider.

“How would that be good?” Inej raised a brow.

“Because their guard will be down, they know no one would be stupid enough to try, so we’ll have the element of surprise at the very least. Not only that, but they’ll all be tripping over themselves to get a glimpse of Alina and to please guests,” Lorna explained. “Just because there are eyes everywhere, doesn’t mean they’ll know where to look. Really, it’s a pickpocket’s dream come true.”

Kaz had taught her that, though not directly. She watched how easily he wove through the crowd at the Exchange, lifting watches and wallets from the unsuspecting people, too focused on the business of their surroundings.

Speaking of… Kaz regrouped with them, looking rather excited.

“Lorna, how well do you truly know the palace?” he asked. She could tell he already knew, but for the others’ sake, she indulged him.

“I know the basic layout, but not enough to get us through this job. Even if I’m on the grounds, it’s no guarantee,” she replied, crossing her arms. “I assume you have a plan. You wouldn’t dare come to me without one.” 

“We’re in luck. Now that we’re three days’ travel from the capital, the next play is finding a way inside the Little Palace. It turns out the Kribirsk Archives house the Little Palace blueprints, but they’re kept under lock and key. Far from the prying eyes of the masses,” Kaz said with a crooked smile. Lorna couldn’t help but return his grin, humming in excitement; it seemed he even had everything sorted out, which would make this easier. As confident as she was making herself out to be, being back in Ravka had shaken her, so she was glad to do something familiar. Heists had become second nature, even before Kaz had prohibited her from participating in any jobs on the field. 

“Yes,” Jesper cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

“What does that mean?” asked Arken.

“Time for a heist!” Jesper slapped his shoulder. Even Inej was smiling.

“We need to get moving so we have time to set up. Lorna, here’s a list of things we’ll need.” Kaz handed her a scrap of paper. From just the items on the list, she could figure out what kind of plan he had in mind.

“A ‘Komedie Reprise’? This will be fun.” 

“Actually, uh, there’s something Lorna and I need to take care of first,” Jesper interjected. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes, wondering what he could possibly mean.

“I leave you a bullet to remember me,” Jesper whispered to the goat, hanging a bullet on a string around his neck. “Let’s promise never to forget each other, Milo. But I must go now. I leave you in the care of this lovely barmaid, who needs your support here.”

“‘Milo’? I’ve been calling him Barnaby, why would you call him Milo?” Lorna questioned, scratching behind the goat’s ears. 

“Because ‘Barnaby’ is an unfortunate name.”

“No it’s not!” 

“You know what, friends shouldn’t argue,” Jesper patted the goat’s head and began to walk away, “even if it’s something as simple as the name of a beloved companion.”

“Yeah, because you know I’m right!” she shouted after him before turning back to the goat. “Farewell, Barnaby.”

“Milo!” 

“Alright, Royal Archives heist, ‘Komedie Reprise’ style. Here’s the game plan. Watchmen are on guard around the clock. We want to get in and out as quietly as possible. That means the hardware stays in the holster, Jesper,” said Kaz.

“Ugh, fine.”

“Inej, the dome on the roof is directly above the repository where the blueprints to the Little Palace are kept.”

“Got it. That’s my way in.”

Kaz reached up to scratch at his neck again, practically drowning in fabrics. Lorna, across from him, cleared her throat, her way of telling him to leave it be. 

“You couldn’t get a more inconspicuous disguise?” he grumbled.

“You couldn’t think of a different cover story?” she bit back. “Toughen up, Ivanovski. Beauty is pain.”

Kaz rolled his eyes as the carriage came to a stop. He opened the door and stepped out, holding his rolled up parchments as part of his character; Lorna leaned out to look as well. The archives building stood tall before them, the glass dome an easy target for Inej to make her way inside. They’d bring it all down.

“You’ll keep an eye out?” 

“I’m offended you even have to ask,” she scoffed. “But yes, I’ll keep an eye on your sorry ass. It’ll just be a shame that I’ll miss out on that charming smile.” With that, Lorna reached out and shut the door, the carriage driving off so she could make her observations. Kaz smirked, making his way inside.

“Good day to you, sir,” he greeted the man behind the desk, tossing his cane up and catching it with a flourish. “My name is Ivanovski. The sculptor, yes.”

“Alright,” the man sighed, not impressed by his extravagant character.

“I am in desperate need of your assistance,” Kaz continued. “I am working on a real showstopper for the winter fete. I need the dimensions to the Little Palace entrances. The grand piece may be too grand to fit through the doorframe. The King will have my head if his statuary must be parked in the courtyard,” his voice wavered in feigned desperation. 

“Damned fete,” the archivist grumbled, lifting the gate and walking out from behind the desk. “I have to pull the blueprints every day. Wait here.”

“With bated breath,” Kaz smiled until the man’s back was to him. He dropped the phosphorus palette to the floor and carefully swung his cane, sliding it right under his shoe. 

“I’ve set a trail of phosphorus that will lead you straight to the target. The repository is secured at all times behind a two-part lock mechanism.”

“And there’s a bell chime every time the gate is open. So, Inej, you have to leave the way you came in,” Lorna added.

“Dimensions to the entrances of the Little Palace,” the man returned with the information he “needed” on a sheet of paper.

“Ah! May the Sun Summoner bless you,” Kaz gratefully replied, performing the salute he had seen Inej do a thousand times. He was certain she would laugh at him, or call him out for blasphemy.

“Oh, I’m not a believer,” the man waved it away.

“No, truth be told,” Kaz leaned in close, “neither am I.”

“Two hours after sunset is when you’ll go in, Jesper. You’ll need to blend in.”

“Easy.” 

“The lighting valves are on the second floor.”

“I’ll take my cue once I see the lights go out. And then follow your trail straight to the blueprints.” Inej straightened.

“The archivist has to pull them a number of times a day, so we can’t steal them or they’ll know something is up. And I can’t make a forgery on time, not without my kit.”

“So what do we do?”

Lorna pressed her lips into a thin line, quickly formulating a solution. She clicked her tongue as an idea came to her head. 

“Make a copy.”

“How?” 

Lorna scoffed in triumph, already knowing the tavern would have exactly what she needed. It had been a while since she made acetone, so this instance would be a real test to her skill, especially making a more crude concoction. While the barmaids were away, Lorna leaned over the bar, inspecting their supply until she found-

“Vinegar, perfect.”

“How did you know they would have that?” Jesper wondered as she opened the flask.

“Vinegar is an acid, used as an alternative to lemons or limes because they're hard to transport through the Fold, especially out of season,” she replied, taking her empty glass and turning it upside down, shaking out any remaining droplets of cider. “Acids are good at dissolving alkaline substances…” Lorna grabbed two small sticks from a pack on her belt, “like chalk.”

“And why do you have chalk on hand?” Kaz raised a brow.

“Hush, love, the less you know, the better,” Lorna waved her hand. She broke the chalk into powdery pieces into the glass before pouring in the vinegar. It bubbled and foamed as she swirled the glass around, dissolving the particles.

“What exactly are you doing?” Jesper crossed his arms

“I’m making a solvent that will help Inej copy the blueprints. Stand back, please,” Lorna ushered the others to stand away as she placed the glass in the palm of her hand. With her own heat, she evaporated the liquid in the glass until the remaining foam turned into a paste, even more into a powder. The glass grew hotter and hotter, but she didn’t feel the pain, only reaching over to grab a thin-necked bottle, tilting the heated glass in her hand so yellow vapors flowed into the other bottle. She resisted the urge to cover her nose from the pungent odor.

It was a very crude recreation of a process she had seen in the warehouse district while on errands for Kaz and on trips to fetch her own supplies. But it would work for the time being; any good counterfeiter should know how to get a hold of or make their own acetone. She turned to Inej.

“This will cool down into a liquid,” she told her, shaking out her heated hand. “Use this to spray onto the blueprint, then you’ll press another sheet of paper over it. But be careful, if you’re heavy-handed, you’ll bleed the ink.”

“Got it.”

Lorna kept up her brisk pace, hoisting the bundle of empty parchment rolls in her arms, acting as an apprentice burning the midnight oil. The lights to the repository had just gone out; Inej would be making her way inside from the roof, and Jesper would keep an eye out on the second floor. Lorna’s task would be to keep an eye on things outside, ready to act as a distraction, which was Kaz’s way of saying “you’re still fresh on the field, but we don’t want you to feel left out”. She didn’t mind it, really, but it was nice to keep track of how things were moving along, even if she couldn’t see inside. So far, things seemed to be going well.

She spoke too soon. The lights turned back on and voices were shouting to each other inside. Lorna hissed a curse, stepping back to look up to the second floor terrace where Jesper, disguised as a guard, waved to her. She set her papers down and raised her hands in confusion, curious as to what was going on. 

He signalled that another guard had come in and Inej was still inside. She could easily evade the guard, Lorna wasn’t worried about that, but there was no way Inej could leave the way she came. She motioned to Jesper, suggesting he shoot the locking mechanism; their timing would have to be precise, the clock was about to strike. He nodded and went back inside, Lorna picked up her papers and jogged to catch up with Kaz where they had planned their exit.

“What’s the word?” he asked in a low voice.

“Guards caught the lights, Inej is still inside, Jesper is getting her out,” she briefly explained, looking him up and down. “Saints, you should get in uniform more often, you look good.”

“It’s better than being swaddled in 3 pounds of fabric,” he retorted. Just then, the clock struck, Lorna could barely differentiate the door chime from the bells. Perfect. A few minutes later, Inej emerged from the archives, presenting Lorna with their new copy of the Little Palace map.

“Your solvent worked like a charm,” she reported.

“I knew it would.” Moments later, Jesper came around to join them, tucking his borrowed hat under his arm and holstering one of his pistols. 

“Light work for us, eh?” He smiled wide, triumphant that their job was done. 

“If only that was all it took to get a million kruge,” Kaz grumbled. “Come on, we’ll look it over when we get back.” 

The tavern wasn’t far, but it was a long enough walk that Kaz’s leg was starting to grow sore; he slowed his pace, letting Jesper and Inej walk ahead so they could chat. Lorna kept up beside him, he knew she had been wanting to say something, her lips pursed as she was lost in thought.

“Whatever you want to say, do it now.” She looked up at him, surprised, but sighed.

“You first.”

“Fine. I’m sorry for exposing you to the others.”

“No you’re not.”

“I am-”

“Don’t lie. It’s rude.” They could have gone back and forth, but Kaz let her win this time. “They were going to find out eventually, if not from me, then from you. I just would have preferred they find out back home,” she said, shaking out her hand like she always did when something bothered her. “How long have you known I was Grisha?” she asked. It was his turn to quietly sigh. Looking back on the years he had known her was quite a trip, realizing how much Kaz had truly come to know her.

“Back when you used to smoke, I once caught you using your thumb as a lighter,” he said. Her hair was shorter and eyes were brighter. “After the 3 Warehouses Job, you got cut and cauterized your wound.” She saved his life. “When you’re angry, the air around you is warm, and when you’re miserable, it’s the opposite. All the heat leaves the room.” She had the scent of burning wood or metal when she passed.

Really, it was quite obvious if someone knew what to look for. Lorna herself was the embodiment of fire. Kaz thought they were quite similar. She was temperamental, destructive when she wanted to be, she gave her all before burning out. Even the way she looked at an open flame, it’s as though she were seeing an old friend or someone she missed.

“Well, you seemed to have figured me out,” she muttered. Kaz huffed.

“Not even close,” he refuted. “I'll let you keep your secrets since you can keep mine. But we are alike, I know that much.” This time she scoffed—it actually sounded more like a snort. He wondered what he got wrong.

“You, Kaz Brekker, are like water,” she said, sounding almost amused. He would admit he had never heard that comparison about him before. He forced Jordie’s voice to wait his turn so he could listen to what Lorna had to say. “Water always finds a way. It can carve its way through stone, wash away earth, put out fire, and even destroy iron. However long it takes.”

She stopped in her tracks, looking right at him. Through him. He had never felt so vulnerable, with Lorna of all people. Was this how she felt here in Ravka? How she felt at all?

“And when it’s trapped, water makes a new path. Its own path,” she finished. Kaz let it hang in the air; it was warm. Why?

“You seemed to have figured me out,” he replied. A smile flickered.

“Not even close,” she copied his response. Did she know his secret? That he didn’t know everything? He was still trying to figure out why Jesper was hiding his Grisha heritage, what made Inej laugh and how to free her, how Lorna could think the only thing she could have done that night was deplete her supply and take the blade to her-

He was still trying to figure out how to do this job. Kaz couldn’t waste any more time.

Back at the tavern, Lorna unrolled the blueprint on the bartop, the others, including Arken, had gathered around. Inej had done a rather excellent job transferring the ink.

“Seems to be nothing’s changed,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “It’s still as closed off as ever.”

“What about…” Jesper pointed to a corner.

“No, look,” Inej indicated to a blindspot. “How about this hallway?”

“No go. See? Guard tower,” said Kaz. Lorna knew it would be tough but not to this extent; it was hard to tell how well a cage was locked from the inside.

“There’s no way in,” Inej realized.

“And no way out,” Kaz finished her thought.

“It’s a fortress,” said Lorna, acid coating her tongue. “The general wanted us protected from the world… and I had a hard enough time as it was to get out.”

“Well how did you do it?” asked Jesper.

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed by the phantom sensations over her skin, even under her layers. 

The tent wasn’t the only thing that kept her warm when they had gone north on that Saints-forsaken mission, the night she ran as far as her legs could take her and beyond. His hands gently cradling her hips, lips ghosting over her neck as he convinced her that she did the right thing. She felt about as safe as a lantern in the wind.

A sudden thud behind them brought Lorna back to reality; it was only the performing troupe’s acrobat falling. She winced at the searing heat at her fingertips, pressing up against her nails. She brought her hands close, caressing them in an attempt to dissipate the heat. Out of the corner of her eye, Kaz tilted his head at her. They needed an answer.

“Nothing that can be duplicated.”

Their hopelessness bled over into the next morning. Lorna rested her head on the bar and oddly found it more comfortable than the restless slumber she faced the previous night. No one had told her how exhausting it would be to be plagued with nightmares. It was rather irritating, especially since Ravkan coffee was not as strong as the type she had gotten used to in Kerch.

“Got any plans up your sleeve?” Inej quietly asked Kaz while fiddling with one of her knives. The glare he gave her was enough of an answer.

“I mean, Kribirsk isn’t the worst,” Jesper shrugged. “We can open up a bar. Brew East Ravkan beer for the Westerners?”

“Shut up, Jesper,” Kaz and Inej said simultaneously, not in the mood for his antics.

“I miss Milo,” Jesper finished.

“Barnaby,” Lorna corrected, not bothering to lift her head. She suppressed a groan when Arken came around with a smile.

“Friends,” he greeted.

“What are you so cheery about?” Kaz questioned. 

“This is Marko,” he introduced, stepping aside to reveal a rather burly man with a full beard. Ah, so Kaz had him make friends while we were busy. “Marko is the leader of the traveling troupe known as the Pomdrakon Players. They have been invited to perform this year’s winter fete,” Arken explained, draping an arm around the man.

“A lifelong dream,” Marko added with a prideful glimmer in his eye.

“Yes, yes, a chance to get inside the Little Palace,” Arken moved along to his point, giving Kaz a pointed look. “But they lost their star performer due to an unfortunate freak accident.”

‘Accident’ my ass, Lorna thought to herself with the barest of smiles. It was the same thing she had told Pekka Rollins, it took a snake to know a snake. She had grown accustomed to sabotage. 

“They are in desperate need of someone with the skills to replace their star performer, and as Ketterdam’s premier talent manager, I had an idea,” his focus shifted from Kaz to Inej. He turned around to face her, Lorna wondered what kind of silent conversation they were having, if the Wraith felt the same way the Demon did for her. 

“A friend once said, ‘if I can’t crack this, none of us are going anywhere’,” said Inej, handing Kaz one of her knives. Lorna huffed; she at least trusted him enough to disarm herself. His eyes followed her as she went to prepare herself for what was sure to be one hell of a performance. 

She moved with such a fluid grace, Kaz couldn’t help but think it magic. Even so, he glared at everyone else watching her; most were with awe and fascination, but the ones who gazed with lust, whether for money or skin, would have found themselves without eyes. But he was a man of restraint. 

Next to him, however, Lorna looked up at the airborne Inej with something he couldn’t quite name. Forlorn jealousy? Longing? Lorna seemed to enjoy making a mystery of herself.

Inej finished her performance with a flourish, twisting back down to the ground and untangling herself from the silks, bowing as the gathered crowd applauded. Kaz watched as Marko approached her.

“The Saints must have sent you,” he praised, grabbing her shoulder. He wanted to cut off his hand. “Yes, the show will go on! Now, can you fit into this?” He turned and grabbed the former acrobat’s colorful costume, a gaudy mix of orange, yellow, and maroon.

“Of course she can,” Jesper cut in. Kaz was glad he took the hint to insert himself into this opportunity. “Those are her colors. But the thing is, Inej comes as part of a package deal,” he gave Marko one of his charming smiles and patted his shoulder.

“No free rides. What are your talents?”

Of course Jesper was talented with a gun, he was Kaz’s sharpshooter after all, but he questioned just how much he trusted him when he sat with his back to Inej—who was once again dangling in the air with a playing card between her teeth—aiming at her behind his head, using only the polished reflection of a serving tray. Kaz rolled his eyes as the Zemini gave his reflection and pistol a kiss before taking aim.

Kaz knew he wouldn’t miss, no matter how much Jesper tried to hide the fact he was Grisha. He’d let it be for now, barely flinching as he fired and split the card in half. Again, the crowd cheered as Inej rolled down to the ground and held up the card. Marko brought Jesper into a tight embrace, thrilled that his show was saved, before turning to Kaz and Lorna.

“Stage is yours,” he said. 

“We’ll make our own way,” Kaz replied. Lorna hung her head and held up a hand.

“Wait,” she said, obviously not enthused or proud of whatever it was she was going to do or say next. “You don’t happen to have silk fans within your props selection, do you?”

Kaz Brekker was not often surprised, making it his business to be ten steps ahead and to know what everyone else was thinking and up to. And yet, he was surprised when Lorna shrugged off her coat and grabbed a pair of fans with deep red silk sewn into the ribs, muttering something to the nearby musicians before stepping onto the stage. Murmurs rose up from the crowd, eager to see the next act. 

Kaz could see what looked like regret on her face. She could have changed her mind, and yet Lorna nodded to the musicians and started her dance on the drum beat. She became someone he hadn’t seen before, dancing as smooth and snake-like as the silks themselves. 

So this is what Poppy taught her. Lorna enchanted the crowd as she tangled the silk around her neck and opened the fans with a snap, spinning around and making wide sweeping arcs in the air, tossing the fans from one hand to the other. A style of dance from Shu Han that he had seen only a few times before; Kaz had to admit that he had grown blind to Lorna’s heritage. 

As the music came to a hush, building anticipation, she draped the fabric over her face; the crowd gasped as a cloud of smoke crept through the silk, before she suddenly flipped the fan up in the air and blew a column of fire from her mouth. Kaz could feel the wave of heat from it, he almost smiled from her clever trick.

“Bravo!” Jesper shouted, starting the third round of applause for the day. Lorna pressed her lips into a thin line and bowed, not quite fond of the attention. Marko welcomed her to the troupe, rambling on about concepts for a routine and what costume to befit her with. Lorna gave a forced smile, and glanced over at Kaz. Her eyes said all things she couldn’t; apologizing for not mentioning anything of her skill, asking if what she did was okay, and hoping he would be alright to travel.

He gave her a nod in return, though he was hardly worried.

They finally had a way into the Little Palace. 

[ashes-2-ashes57cba-ver2]

Chapter 3: All Kinds of Sick

Despite what many think, seaweed has no direct effect on preventing seasickness. Neither does singing the song. A 'níon mhín ó, sin anall na fir shúirí A mháithairin mhín ó, cuir na roithléan go dtí mé Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn - Irish folk song

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, description of sea/motion sickness, past trauma, reference to past drug use

Lorna was going to be sick. Literally. It was almost embarrassing and downright laughable how easily she succumbed to seasickness. Riding in a carriage with four other people wasn’t helping, even with her hair tied back and the window opened just a crack. She tried to rest her head back, but the road to Novokribirsk was rough.

“I didn’t hire you simply to get us across the Fold,” Kaz started, addressing Arken, the Conductor. Lorna thought he was a funny looking man and likened him to a troll or goblin from her childhood stories; then again, those creatures were always causing trouble. “You’re with us because you smuggle Grisha out of the Little Palace, and that’s the location of our target.” 

“Sun Summoner,” Inej interjected.

“Alleged,” Kaz countered. Lorna shared a look with Jesper; Kaz and Inej had had this argument multiple times already. 

“They wouldn’t keep a fraud in the most secure location in all of Ravka,” the Wraith tilted her head. Lorna was inclined to agree with her, the Little Palace and its Grisha were quite brutal to outsiders, but at the same time, she was with Kaz, until she saw this Alina Starkov summon light, it could have been some sort of illusion. She certainly hoped it was.

“You said you have a contact who can get us inside. A Heartrender,” Kaz continued the conversation. She sat up, paying closer attention now. Arken nodded. “How do I know we can trust her?”

“Nina grew up there.”

Nina? Lorna thought to herself. The recognition on her face was apparently evident to Kaz, who glanced at her.

“Most Grisha grew up in the Little Palace,” she cleared her throat and refuted. “Very few would betray their general, and fewer still would help foreigners kidnap their most prized possession.” Maybe you are a snake after all. A two-headed one.

“Nina’s a radical. Thinks Grisha should get to choose if they serve the Crown. She despises involuntary service more than she does Fjerdans,” Arken explained. Lorna huffed in amusement. At least she was thinking of the same Nina he was talking about. “I sent word that I wanted to meet with her; she’s waiting for us at an inn.”

“Perfect, maybe then Lorna can lay down and collect her stomach,” Jesper teased. She rolled her eyes and kicked his ankle. 

“As long as you don’t start singing ‘Dúlaman’ again,” Lorna replied. At least the residual nausea and the threat of Jesper serenading them for the hundredth time was enough of a distraction to prevent her from thinking about what awaited them further in the country.

Lorna felt a different kind of sickness, seeing the empty suite where Nina was supposed to have been waiting. She scanned the room; her trunk was laid open on her bed, half packed, the rug on the floor was wrinkled, and the snacks on the nightstand were untouched. She smacked Jesper on the arm as he helped himself to sample one.

“She knew to expect us,” said Arken in disbelief. 

“She isn’t late. She’s gone,” said Kaz, closing her suitcase with his cane. Something glistened on the bed.

“Yes, but her things are all- what is it?” Arken interrupted himself as Lorna picked up the piece of metal. A wolf brooch. A chill crawled down her spine, as though the Fjerdan snow was personally mocking her.

“Drüskelle,” she said, looking up at Kaz. “Grisha hunters. Ruthless.” 

“Explains the Fjerdan krydda the innkeeper was counting when we arrived. It’s likely he ratted her out,” he added.

“She’s probably captive on a ship to Fjerda by now,” Arken sat himself on the bed, defeated that they had lost their contact. Lorna almost pitied him, but pitied Nina more. There was nothing anyone could do to help her now.

“They had a clear line of attack,” Inej reported, looking out the window that led to the small balcony.

“Take a look. Make sure there aren’t any more surprises,” Kaz instructed. Inej nodded, pulled up her hood and mask, and disappeared. 

“Well, that’s that. We’ve lost our way into the Little Palace,” Arken hung his head. Lorna felt eyes on her: Kaz’s eyes. He looked right at her as if he knew. Did he? He made no move to answer her silent question.

“We’ll do no good waiting around up here,” said Kaz, already making his way out of the room, narrowing his eyes at Lorna as he passed. So he intended to leave her hanging. The Bastard of the Barrel certainly had a way of pissing people off; she considered it an artform. 

The fresh air outside didn’t help her unease. The trees rustled above them and Inej jumped down into the courtyard with them.

“All clear,” she said. 

“This seems like a reasonable juncture to abandon this whole Sun Summoner plan,” Arken sighed. Kaz turned about-face.

“Abandon?” he repeated, appalled at the idea. “We’re in this now. And I know what a million kruge means to me. What does it mean for you?” he asked the group.

“Freedom,” Inej answered first.

“Fun. Like, at least a few months,” said Jesper, sporting a crooked smile.

“Retirement,” Arken replied. Lorna burned as all their eyes turned to her… but she couldn’t answer. She could admit that she had no use or desire for a million kruge—as tempting as it sounded—but to explain why would mean going back to a place she didn’t want to go. Though it seemed they would be heading there anyway.

“So we press on,” Kaz continued. 

“But how? We don’t have a way into the palace,” said Jesper. Kaz looked right at Lorna, her eyes widened. 

No, no, no don’t you dare.

“Lorna might have some insight.” 

Damn you, Brekker. 

She didn’t want to go back but Kaz wouldn’t care, he wasted all his cares on only two people: Pekka Rollins and Inej Ghafa.

“What?” Jesper and Inej exclaimed, Arken adjusted his glasses, confused. Lorna glared at her boss, feeling heat in her blood. 

“You’re really annoying, Kaz. Do you know that? It’s important to me that you know that,” she deadpanned. He didn’t respond; with a groan, Lorna addressed the group instead. “I used to serve at the Little Palace, in a way, but it’s no guarantee we have a way past the gates. They don’t take kindly to those who leave.” He was almost smiling from the satisfaction of knowing he was right. She was going to kill Kaz Brekker.

“We’ll make do. Get us across the Fold,” he directed his attention back to Arken, “and I’ll figure out the rest on the other side.”

Arken didn’t take long to reconsider.

“Fine,” he conceded, pulling out a notepad and starting a list. “To cross, I’ll need 20 pounds of alabaster coal, a peck of Majdaloun jurda—er, not the kind from Kerch, it’s too weak—and, uh,” he paused to glance at Jesper, “a goat.”

Lorna raised a brow, curious at his list.

“Now, we meet in the dead of night. There’s a wreckage of a skiff northeast, on the edge of town,” Arken instructed. “So, who gets what?”

“Lorna, Inej, jurda. I’ll get the goat. And Jesper,” Kaz took the list from between Arken’s fingers and looked Jesper in the eye, “just the coal, no detours.”

Jesper took the scrap of paper, almost offended that he would need the reminder. Lorna set her expectations low, there was no way this was going to go smoothly. 

“So, where do we get jurda around here?” Inej turned to ask Lorna. She gave a final glare at Kaz before nodding for Inej to follow her into the market. She couldn’t help but wonder if the girl knew about Kaz’s feelings for her. 

“Is it strange to be back here in Ravka?” Lorna asked, trying to start a conversation anyway. 

“It is. Everything looked so much bigger and brighter when I was younger,” Inej replied. Lorna thought she truly looked like a girl, the way she looked up at the buildings and between market stalls. She at least deserved to have that sense of whimsey. “What about you?”

“I had my reasons to leave,” Lorna kept her eyes trained ahead, “but I don’t regret having them. I don’t regret leaving.”

“But you came back anyway? For the Sun Summoner?”

“Saints no,” Lorna stopped in her tracks, venom in her tongue. A Grisha who could summon light would cause nothing but trouble and make everything else—everything that happened—obsolete. Lorna wanted to forget her pain, but on her own terms, not because some girl called Starkov snuffed out her own flame with a brighter one. Inej stopped with her, confused. “I came because Kaz needed me on this job so he could get that money. I know what’s worth a million to him, and we’d all be better for it if he got it.”

Inej held her stare before softening and backing down. Another point of envy: the Suli girl had enough patience and self-control to last a lifetime. But nonetheless, Lorna took a breath and collected herself, it would be her own fault if they lost their wits. She didn’t talk much with Inej, but she didn’t want to jeopardize whatever friendship they had by being snippy. 

“Best we hurry and get that jurda, then,” said Inej, gently. Lorna nodded.

“Yeah. Take a left up here.”

Kaz hoisted the goat up in his arms again as he made his way through the crowded square. He was plagued by the odd sense of familiarity, holding the creature; it smelled bad, of course, but it brought him back to the countryside, when everything seemed right with the world. When he could climb onto Jordie’s shoulders and see forever into the fields. Perhaps the boy he used to be wasn’t dead after all, but Kaz couldn’t afford the weakness, even if it meant killing himself all over again. 

“They want you to believe the Sun Summoner has been found to finally tear down the wall that divides us!” a voice shouted from the nearby stage. “How many times have we been fed a story like that? And how many times have we in the West been told to send our sons and daughters through the Fold for another year?”

The rally continued, Kaz only half-paid attention, glancing at the poster of the man speaking, General Zlatan. Lorna had said his control of the western borders of Ravka would make crossing the Fold difficult in an effort to maintain their independence. Kaz hardly cared for politics, except when it would affect his paycheck. The General had finished his speech and stepped off the stage, shaking hands with his peers and some important looking officials… including Arken. They clapped each other on the back, clearly on good terms, and entered Zlatan’s tent.

Something to keep in mind, moving forward. 

Kaz brushed it off for now, finding Inej and Lorna looking through the memorial set up for those lost to the Fold. He would have been more upset if it weren’t for the pack of jurda hanging from Lorna’s belt. Out of her hands. A good sign.

The goat in his arms bleated, catching their attention. Lorna squealed—like a schoolgirl, Kaz would add—and jogged over, taking the goat from Kaz’s arms.

“Oh, hello little friend!” she greeted, kissing its head and resting her cheek on it. “You are just too cute! I’m going to call you Barnaby, yes I am. Do you want a snack, Mister Barnaby?”

Kaz and Inej watched as she took the goat away to get something to eat. He shook his head, half in amusement, half at the sheer ridiculousness of her fickle mood.

“He is adorable,” said Inej.

“Don’t get attached,” he warned. 

“Lorna seems to be doing well.”

“It’s a mask.” He was quick, almost too quick. He knew it was cruel to make Lorna’s connection to the Little Palace be known, but he justified it for the necessity of the job. There were more secrets she could divulge on her own time. Even so, he wondered how deep her mask had embedded itself in her skin. There were no ledges or blades, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t vulnerable. 

“I didn’t think I’d have to specify no detours to you,” he returned to scolding Inej. 

“Even if just a few minutes could end a lifetime of questions?” she refuted, looking up at him. He had to steel himself so he wouldn’t fall victim to her.

“Your parents are Suli. They don’t cross the Fold. They go around.”

“I know. I just thought that if I saw their names on there, I could let the idea of them go.” She pulled the scrap of cloth with Sankta Elizaveta’s face from under her hood. “This thing? This was all that I had when I was sold to the Menagerie. And if it was worth anything, Heleen would have taken it. But this is just a simple token of faith that my mother stitched.”

She paused for breath. Kaz had heard the story of her hardship before, and every time, it stung. Though he was growing immune to the pain. 

“Kaz, this is all I have left of them. Unless-”

“Hope is dangerous,” he cut her short before she disappointed herself. “It clouds your judgement. Pray, scream, do whatever you have to do to push this out of your mind and move on.” 

Kaz glanced over at Lorna, saw her smile flickering as she fed the goat and stroked its ears. He had never needed to tell her what he just told Inej, in fact, she was the opposite of the Suli girl. One without hope; while it served her well to keep her expectations reasonable and keep her grounded in reality, she had no motivation beyond whatever happened in the present. Maybe bringing her to Ravka wasn’t a good idea, but it was too late now.

“We all have debts to pay.”

It was midnight and the moon was full, but it did nothing to illuminate the encroaching wall of shadow. Arken kept urging them onward with a torch in his hand, assuring they were almost to their destination, but Lorna still wondered how exactly they would cross. She clicked her tongue, encouraging Barnaby to stay close.

“We’re almost there,” said Arken as they rounded a sandy hill.

“Where the hell is Jesper?” Kaz wondered aloud. Neither she nor Inej had seen the sharpshooter since they split at the inn; Lorna had a feeling his tardiness would bring trouble.

“Landmines,” Inej read aloud as a big, yellow sign came into view. It depicted a man’s leg getting blown off, but Arken walked right past. Lorna stopped in her tracks, pulling Barnaby close by the rope around his neck.

“We’ll wait,” Kaz called after him. Lorna quietly thanked his sensibility. “Follow the path that you carve.”

“That sign was my idea to keep people away,” Arken turned and shrugged. “Can’t be too careful. We’re fine. Come,” he beckoned them along. The trio gave each other wary glances before following the man closer to the Fold. 

The wall of shadow morphed and thundered, almost shrieking in agony of its abominable existence. Lorna could feel in her bones the wrongness of it.

“It’s one thing hearing about it, but this is-”

“Nothing compared to what lies within,” Arken interrupted Inej, handing her the torch and walking right to the edge.

Lorna stared down the swirling darkness, as though greeting an old adversary. She could feel the others looking between it and her.

“How many times have you crossed?” Inej asked, sounding anxious.

“This will be my third,” she slowly replied. “It doesn’t get better, by the way. It’s just as terrifying every time, if not somehow moreso.” She saw its swirling shadows every time she tried to sleep, shadowed hands reaching for her, forbidding her escape. The burn down her throat reminded her of all she did to try and prevent the darkness from encroaching. She shrugged it off. “But you know as they say, the third time’s the charm.”

Arken reappeared, grunting as he cranked a large train car out of the Fold and onto the tracks. At least, Lorna thought it was a train car. 

“There,” Arken wiped his hands. “So, goat,” he took note of Barnaby, “jurda,” he reached for the pack from Inej, thanking her when she handed it over. “Now we’re just waiting on-”

He was interrupted by a distant gunshot. Several of them. Growing closer. A familiar voice shouted-

“Wait for me!”

“One time. Just one time I hate being right!” Lorna groaned, craning her neck up to the sky. 

“They can’t see the train,” Arken hissed.

“Jesper, get here now!” Kaz shouted.

“Leave the lantern!” Inej added.

“Landmines!” Jesper cried, pointing at the sign. Another gun fired, shooting the lantern out of his hands. “Oh, wait for me! Don’t you go without me!” he started running toward them. They climbed inside, Lorna made herself small on one of the benches to save space. Arken closed and locked the door as Jesper finally joined them, and began lighting small, blue-flamed lanterns hung in each corner of the car. 

“Please tell me you have 20 pounds of alabaster coal,” he said.

“Slight snag in the plan.” Lorna perked up. “Turns out the kid who was helping me buy coal didn’t exactly know how to, uh, buy coal.”

“We know you gambled it away,” said Kaz. He sounded calm, but Lorna knew it was a mask to hide his frustration. Then again, they expected nothing left from their sharpshooter. 

“I lost a bit of the money.” 

“Jesper, don’t be rude,” Lorna hissed. 

“I lost all of the money,” Jesper corrected himself, “but, I managed to steal 20 pounds of alabaster coal.”

“No, no, there’s 14 pounds!” Arken cried as Jesper thrust the bag into his arms.

“14 pounds of alabaster coal,” Jesper corrected himself again. Lorna pinched the bridge of her nose. Her other crossings through the Fold were terrifying and traumatic, yes, but never this chaotic. 

“Can it be done on 14?” Kaz asked Arken.

“Never been done before.” They all flinched as a bullet pinged the outside metal, the thugs following Jesper were getting closer.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, but can we get moving?” Lorna assured through gritted teeth. Arken pulled a seat down from the door and shoved Jesper down.

“Sit here. Never shift your weight,” he instructed. Lorna, Kaz, and Inej all found their seats, gearing up to stay put for the ride. Arken rolled up his sleeves and opened up the furnace; Lorna glimpsed 8 tallymarks on his forearm as he dumped some of the coal into the flames.

“You’ve crossed that many times?” asked Inej, catching them too.

“It’s a numbers game. Cross this often and you get nightmares,” he replied. Inej saluted to the saints with one of her knives as a prayer.

“I think you can get nightmares just by crossing one time,” Lorna interjected. The sound of an explosion prevented the Conductor from replying. Jesper stood up and peeked out through a slot in the door.

“Landmines!”

“I thought you said they weren’t real,” Kaz turned to Arken.

“I said nothing of the sort. I just said I put up the sign myself.” With that, he started the engine and they were on their way into the Fold. 

It was dark, unnaturally so, Lorna could feel it beyond the blue lanterns and the glow of the furnace. She sat on the same bench as Kaz, Inej across from her, gripping onto her seat. She could feel heat where her knuckles ached and every passing shadow.

She remembered her first trip. 8 years old, seasick from leaving the Wandering Isle, and unable to speak a word of Ravkan except for the surname they gave her. Solovey. Young Lorna had clung tightly to the side of the skiff, watching with wide eyes as the darkness came to life. The place she had only heard about was real.

Even now, 15 years later, she clung onto what was real. 

A bell chime startled her.

“What was that?” asked Kaz.

“I’ve erected a system of timers along the line. Bits of metal hung on poles to keep me apprised of our pace,” Arken explained, still writing in his notebook. 

“This might be the only time I call you clever,” Lorna muttered. 

“How did you know where to put the poles?” Kaz wondered.

“Physics and engineering account for most of my success.”

“And the rest?” asked Inej.

“What we might call divine intervention. What others might call luck,” he glanced at Inej before looking at the others. Lorna determined they must have their faith in common, though it didn’t help her trust him. “After all, the Fold is thick with volcra, and the tracks… are not complete. Coal please.”

Lorna reached down to pet Barnaby for comfort. Saints above, the tracks they were currently on were not complete, and he asked for more coal in the furnace anyway. If they reached the other side, Lorna was going to relapse and make herself a drink, something really strong.

“I’m sorry. Did you say the tracks weren’t complete?” Jesper repeated.

“I said they aren’t complete.”

“What-”

“Ah, ah, ah. No moving,” Arken scolded as Jesper tried to get up. He looked at his pocketwatch as another chime rang. “We’re a tad late. More coal.”

“Back to the real issue. We’re on tracks that don’t connect to other tracks?” Jesper sounded more panicked.

“There’s a gap, but-”

“You said you could get us through,” Lorna hissed. She had her own right to panic.

“How much of a gap?” Jesper cried.

“I built slats on the car,” Arken gestured for him to calm down, “they roll into place under the wheels. The turbine generates enough wind to push us all the way to the eastern track. As long as we don’t shift our weight.”

Lorna forced herself to take deep breaths, squeezing her eyes shut so her senses wouldn’t overload. She could hear Arken pull a lever and the motion of the engine changed. They were on the slats now, sliding against the gravel and sand, growing louder.

“Now, the noise may attract volcra, but it’s the only way across. Now there’s a nest nearby. But we’ll be fine. If they haven’t attacked us in-”

The screech of the creatures filled the air, overpowering the noise of the engine and sand hitting the metal. Lorna suppressed a groan.

“Well, now we’ve got a problem.”

“How do you fight them off?” she dared to ask, trying to stop the images of the monsters invading her mind.

“I outrun them.” Honestly, she didn’t know what else to expect. “Open the throttle and toss in all the coal, which works when there’s 20 pounds of it,” Arken directed his frustration at Jesper. There was a shriek followed by a thud. The car’s momentum shifted. “Damn it! The stupid thing impaled itself on a spike!”

“Get it off! The others will stand on it,” said Kaz.

“More coal,” Arken ordered.

“We’re down to fumes! We won’t make it with this extra weight,” Kaz barked, just as their weight shifted down from even more volcra. Lorna could feel the speed of the air changing.

“This is how we die?” Jesper whimpered.

“Jesper, grab the goat.” Please, not Barnaby. Just give me this.

“I’m not throwing out the goat!”

“Grab the damn goat! It’s not bait, it’s for you! I need you to calm down. Hug the goat. Shut the hell up,” said Arken. Lorna felt him brush by her leg, hearing him bleat as Jesper picked him up. 

Another chime.

“We should have hit that 30 seconds ago,” Arken slowly realized, fear in his tone. “My timings are precise to get us outside. Even 30 seconds behind means the train stops inside the Fold… and that means we die.”

Lorna could feel the heat in the air from the waning furnace, radiating off of everyone else alongside their fear. It burned in her veins. 

The jagged crystals burned in her veins, down her throat. 

There was no euphoric high this time, just an energy that fueled her rage. She would not die like this, not if she could help it. Her heart pounded. She wanted to scream. Her hands itched.

Instead, Lorna opened her eyes, the space in front of her clear despite the dim light.

“Kaz, switch with me,” she demanded. Without protest, Kaz and Lorna switched their positions on the bench so now she could feel the heat from the furnace.

How she missed it.

“What are you doing?” asked Inej, holding onto one of her sacred knives. 

Lorna didn’t answer, only pressing her palms together, twisting her hands, and sending a stream of flames into the furnace. It had been so long since she let herself spark a fire, so long since she allowed herself to feel the satisfaction from using her own powers. The engine lurched forward, gaining speed now that it was fed.

“You’re a-”

“There’s more coming,” Arken interrupted Inej. “We may be able to get out of the Fold now, but there’s a whole horde of volcra heading right for us. You might want to make your peace.”

Lorna knew they wouldn’t need to, she could feel it as sure as she could feel the heat from her flame. She turned her head as one of the creatures tore away a small hole in the roof and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jesper stand up, poised and ready to work. She smiled. He reached down and—with the goat still in his arm—grabbed one of his pistols, twirled it in his fingers, and began to open fire. One by one, the surrounding swarm dropped dead, the engine shedding weight. Each shot was sure and precise. Lorna could at least count on Jesper to aim true. 

Once it quieted down and Lorna could feel they had enough speed as they reached the eastern tracks, she recalled her flames, bringing her hands close and leaning back in the seat to take a breath. 

“Are they all dead?” Inej asked timidly.

Apparently not. Suddenly, the roof was torn open with massive claws and the grotesque face of a volcra pushed its way inside. Arken screamed and Inej cried for the Saints. Even Kaz was panicked.

Even so, Jesper took a breath and took a shot, the bullet flying right into its head, killing it instantly and knocking it back into the depths of shadow. And it seemed to be just at the right moment. Sunlight returned. They had made it through. Lorna felt a giggle bubbling up, thankful to be alive and to feel her powers come to life again, even with the questions the others would no doubt have. 

“Nice shooting,” she looked up at the Zemini.

“Nice, er, flames,” he tried to return the compliment, placing Barnaby down on the ground. “Saints, is it just the sunlight, or do you actually look better?”

“Wow. Thank you ever so much, Jesper,” Lorna deadpanned. She wasn’t one to take much pride in her appearance, but she was sure it was true. When any Grisha refrained from using their powers for prolonged periods of time, they’d begin to look ill, anyone knew that. She felt refreshed, the rush of power was intoxicating; but there was still the weight in her chest, the darkness underneath her eyes. Lorna’s flames couldn't burn it away. 

“Worry about it later,” Kaz spoke up, seeing she had gone still with discomfort. “Let's just get the hell out of here. We have a Sun Summoner to steal.”

[ashes-2-ashes57cba-ver2]

Chapter 2: Animals in Suits

A metaphor for the dehumanizing, competitive, and savage nature of professional environments.

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, violence

“What was that? Hmm? You want to tell me?”

“Be more specific,” was all Kaz replied, not looking up from his papers or pocketwatch. He needed that money. What he didn’t need was Inej fussing about semantics while time was running out.

“It was one thing when we had a week to find a way across the Fold. But sunrise? We have to say no,” Inej argued.

“No.”

“‘No’ to the job?”

“That’s a ‘no’ to saying ‘no’.”

“We can’t go!”

“Can’t we?” He finally looked up at her. Already in that split second he was weak, but the fierceness in her eyes reminded him of where he was. She flexed her arm, moving the sleeve and reminding him of the peacock feather tattoo that branded her wrist. 

“I can’t go. And Lorna won’t. You know that,” she hissed. But she was no snake.

“You will. You both will,” he promised. “I have a plan.” 

“No, you don’t,” she knew the truth. It didn’t help motivate him. “I know by now you’re still figuring things out. You don’t know how to pull off this job.”

“I still have six hours, and right now, you aren’t helping,” he said. Kaz had gotten himself unorganized in his frantic search for answers, but there was no point in cleaning up if there wasn’t anyone to bribe or buy out. She really wasn’t helping.

“Maybe you crack a way across, but that doesn’t solve this problem, Kaz!” she shoved her wrist within his line of sight, as if he didn’t already memorize where Heleen’s mark blemished her skin. 

“If I can’t crack this, no one’s going.”

“If you do?”

“Then maybe you stay here!” he snapped, slamming his hands on the desk. “Maybe you stay here and I take Lorna instead of you. She’s more capable than you give her credit for.”

Kaz regretted it as soon as it left his mouth, Inej’s eyes were widened with shock, disappointment, and anger. All of which he had never wanted to give her. 

“Maybe I won’t be here when you get back,” she replied, her voice low and steady, already moving out of the room. 

“Inej!” Kaz called after her, hobbling with his cane around the corner. But as always, she disappeared. His window was still open. It was still raining. 

He still had work to do.

She couldn’t stop picturing it. A sun summoner, this Alina Starkov, creating a blast of light bright enough to destroy the volcra. All her life she heard the story, variations upon variations only for the ending to not exist. In all honesty, Lorna had never imagined she would appear in her lifetime, no matter how much anyone tried to convince her.

She missed the line. Again. With a groan, Lorna leaned her head back and shook out her hand. Her job—her one task—was to craft up papers that looked legitimate for her, Kaz, Jesper, and Inej when they made it to West Ravka. If they made it; last she knew, Kaz was still stewing on a plan. But Lorna couldn’t pull up enough focus to finish their papers without botching her pen strokes. 

Lorna placed her writing board down and stood up, stretching her back and rolling her neck. Kaz, as always, offered to let her do her work in his office, it was quieter and she could sit properly. But Lorna had taken to her usual spot in the back storage room, her parchment samples, array of writing utensils, stencils, and inkwell scattered around her on the floor as she sat on the cold ground, leaning against the cold wall. All her necessary tools to create counterfeit documents and the like. Her work was revered by Kaz.

But it would be useless if she couldn’t keep a straight line, and if Kaz couldn’t get them across the damned Fold. Part of her hoped he would drop it, but Lorna quickly extinguished the idea. 

There was a knock at the door, timid, but hard enough for her to hear over the ambient noise of the club. One of the serving girls opened it and poked her head inside, pale in the face and lip quivering.

“Oh, what now, Una?” Lorna groaned. 

“P-Pekka Rollins ju-just turned up-p, miss” she stuttered, pointing back out to the floor.

“What?” Lorna stood up and went to look, finding the Dime Lion climbing up the stairs and entering Kaz’s office. She would assume at least two other men found their way inside, no doubt to roughen Kaz up and hold him back so he wouldn’t murder Rollins on sight. Una still shuddered beside her. She sighed; was she to do everything? “Honestly, Una, get a hold of yourself. It’s just two Barrel bosses talking.”

Lorna closed the door behind them, locked it—intent on returning to her work later—and sent the girl back to work. She wove through the crowd, keeping an eye out for any other suspicious characters, and climbed up the stairs, pausing with her ear to the door, trying to listen for what was going on. 

“I’ll tell Dreesen I’m taking over for you,” said a thick Kaelish accent. “Then we’re even.”

“Not even close.” That was Kaz, sounding strained. 

“The other option is I’ll cave your head in with your own cane and dump you in the harbor.”

Absolutely not. 

Pekka Rollins hadn’t aged at all, as though all those years of pulling cons on helpless children had no effect on him. Kaz had felt all those years weigh on him as the man forced his way into his office and threatened him. He’d be willing to die, as long as Pekka went down with him.

But the door opened, surprising Kaz and the older man. 

“Gentlemen,” a voice called into the room. They all looked up as Lorna calmly—almost cordially—entered the room, standing in the doorway. He didn’t expect to see her so fearlessly face the Dime Lions’ leader, let alone be there at all. “Mr. Rollins, I'm going to ask that you make your exit.”

“So this is the coveted ‘snake’ of the Crow Club,” Pekka scoffed, looking between the two of them with amusement. “She seems awfully small, Brekker. It must be a worm.” He pointed at her with his cane, hoping to get a rise out of her. Kaz felt his jaw clench, but Lorna only blinked. He looked over at Pekka again and saw he wasn’t threatened; she could easily fix that.

The garrote in her belt, spiked brass-knuckles, or metal spike would do the trick. She wasn’t armed to the teeth like Inej—he had taken measures to prevent that—but she was a fighter. Unlike Inej, she was willing to kill.

“Mister Rollins, I will not ask again,” she said instead, moving the cane out of her face so she could properly meet his eyes. Something simmered in her voice. Vengeance? Fear? Kaz couldn’t tell. “Need I remind you that you are at the heart of Crow territory? All I have to do is scream and we’ll have a shootout before you can even grab your gun.”

Pekka abandoned Kaz, fully facing her and looking her over. She narrowed her eyes, almost daring him to make the wrong move.

“Hmm. Tell me girl, is everyone from Shu Han as brazenly stupid as you?” he tilted his head, still trying to shake her. “You have all those queens ruling over you, you must have forgotten how to behave in front of a King. I know a fool when I see one.”

Kaz looked up at Lorna now; she took a breath, ran her tongue over teeth, and met Pekka’s eyes. She wouldn’t take the bait, Kaz knew that, but she would still spit venom. 

“Aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile,” she replied in Kaelish, with the tone of a school girl defying her instructor. He didn’t know what it meant, but Pekka certainly did. He straightened and adjusted his coat. 

“Quite exotic for a worm,” he mumbled. 

She didn’t deign him with a reply.

Without another word he signalled for his men to shove Kaz to the ground and join him in leaving the room, tossing his cane back onto his desk. He grunted from the impact and watched as Lorna politely motioned to the door.

“Have the evening you deserve, Mister Rollins,” she smiled, shutting the door behind them. “Let me guess, he warned you off the job?”

He didn’t answer, she already knew, hoisting himself off the ground and running a hand through his hair.

“Were you going to tell me something, or just stand there and state the obvious?” he grumbled, grabbing his cane and brushing himself off. He felt blood at his hairline, crawling down his forehead. 

“I was going to tell you that I’m nearly finished with our travel papers, given we’re still traveling?” Lorna crossed her arms, expecting some sort of plan out of him. For all the expectations he had on his crew, she always reminded him that they held a standard for him as well. Kaz glared at her, but tilted his head in curiosity.

“What was that you told him?” he asked instead. 

“It’s a Kaelish phrase, ‘one beetle recognizes another’. It’s a fancy way of saying ‘it takes one to know one’,” she shrugged, as though it were a meager feat. Kaz could barely say the name without wanting to spit it out and exact his revenge on the man… and Lorna had simply called him a name. Her tenacity was why he still pushed himself to work out a plan to cross the Fold so he could put it to good use. “We have five hours until sunrise. Do we have a plan?”

“Nothing concrete,” he admitted. 

“Hmm! I’m really doing all the work for you, then,” she said with a click of her tongue, ambling over to the desk.

“What do you have?”

“Well, on my way over to get your sorry ass out of trouble, I saw a woman at one of the card tables,” she nodded over to the panel on his wall, the one he slid away to spy on the congregation of the club. “She’s got her hair wrapped up in cloth. Ravkan clothing.”

Kaz did find the woman at the card table. She had become somewhat of a regular, and looked like anyone else. Inconspicuous, not looking for trouble; it was an act of course, she was hiding herself away in the masses.

“I see her.”

“You see how she’s counting her cash?”

There it was. This was why Lorna had become an expert forger, her eye for detail was unmatched. Kaz almost laughed. It seemed they had one more card to play.

“I don’t understand. I wasn’t cheating!” the woman cried as she was forced to sit in the chair across from Kaz. Lorna nodded at the bruiser to head back down to the floor while Kaz opened his safe.

“You’ve been here every night for a week,” he said, grabbing a stack of kruge. “You don’t play Makker’s Wheel or Ratcatcher, only cards. Because you keep track of what’s played.”

“Well, that is not cheating,” said the woman.

“No,” Kaz agreed, “but I’ll have to add an extra deck to your table to keep things more balanced.” He slammed the cash down on the desk in front of her. “An incentive to keep playing. Count it for me,” he instructed.

The woman looked between Kaz and the kruge before slowly reaching for it. Lorna bit her tongue to keep from smiling; the woman held a tight grip of the stack in one hand, and with the other, vertically folded back each sheet of purple paper as she counted. Just as she had seen before. Kaz, eyes wide, nodded at Lorna.

“Where are you from?” she asked, as though making small talk. The woman, startled, looked up at her.

“West Ravka,” she replied. “Os Kervo.”

“West Ravkans count money from one hand to the other, but the people out east who work the mines in Sikursk, they count like you do,” Lorna explained to both the woman and Kaz, pointing at the mining town on the map behind Kaz. It hadn’t taken her long to differentiate people by how they counted their money; West Ravkans counted as she described, the Kerch and Shu folded their money horizontally, and the Zemini and Kaelish had their own way as well. 

“I am from West Ravka,” the woman insisted, placing the kruge back on the desk.

“West Ravkans don’t say ‘west’,” Lorna snapped, slamming a hand down on the desk. “To them, there’s just Ravka and the old country. So all you’ve done is lie to me about where you’re from because you’ve fled. You’re hiding.”

The woman’s defiant gaze softened, realizing there was no point in hiding now that she had squeezed the truth out of her. Lorna almost did a double-take when she first spotted the woman, despite being on her way to scold Pekka Rollins; East Ravka seemed so far away anymore, to see hints of it on the island was surreal. 

“My daughter is Grisha,” the woman explained. Lorna almost wanted to ask for her name, just for any semblance of familiarity. “Neither of us wanted her to fight in the war. You can’t make us go back!” she begged, looking back at Kaz. 

“No, I’m not after you,” he said, “but you need to tell me how you and your daughter got through the Fold unscathed and unnoticed. Now.” Lorna stood to the side again, letting her boss take over. His piercing blue gaze could make anyone fold and spit the truth, even Lorna herself.

“He just went by a title,” the woman whimpered, “the Conductor. We paid him in advance and he took us across in some special transport. It was noisy, but he had us wear hoods so we couldn’t share how he does it. I don’t know what else to tell you.” 

“Give me something! A name, an address, a contact, someone he worked with,” Kaz pressed. The woman swallowed hard, still fighting against the urge to spill the truth. Lorna took a single step closer, that was enough.

“He left us with a stage performer who took us in for a few nights. Poppy.” Kaz and Lorna both sighed. Sometimes having a name made it harder.

“Where’s Poppy working these days?” Kaz turned to ask Lorna.

“Where do you think? Emerald Palace,” Lorna groaned. Again, Dime Lion territory; and she had just told off Pekka Rollins like he was a bully on the schoolyard. Kaz looked at the woman again, nodding toward the door, giving her permission to go. She scampered out of the room, back down to the gambling floor. “You going to get on that?”

“It’s Pekka’s turf.” He was grabbing his coat anyway. Lorna tossed him his hat.

“Never stopped you before. Take Jesper with you.”

“Finish those papers, then. You’ll need the extra time now that we may be adding someone else to the crew.”

“Jesper! New job,” Kaz called for his second, who was, to no surprise, gawking at himself in a nearby mirror. He had a spring in his step, with as much lightness one could have with a limp and the weight of revenge in his bones. Lorna had done good work. “Come along,” he called to Jesper again. The Zemini jogged to catch up with him.

“Where to, boss?” he asked.

“We’ve got a lead. Just keep up,” Kaz kept marching. They had to be quick, otherwise if Pekka caught wind of where he was heading, and right after having just warned him off the job… Pekka was proven to be a man of his word. If Kaz was going to die, it would be on his own terms: buried under the weight of his own gold.

“You know, I had a few ideas for the job,” said Jesper, as always, unable to stand the silence.

“I’m sure you did.”

“I mean it. We need a demo man!”

“You’re still on that?” Kaz scoffed. Jesper’s desire for chaos was almost as loud as his clothing.

“I just brought it up tonight!”

“Jesper, you ask for an explosives expert on every job.”

“Because I don’t want to be the one you point to and say, ‘explode something for us’. That is not a Jesper talent.” Kaz could almost agree, Jesper was not who he pictured when it came to something blowing up. “I shoot things with style. And I look good! Just play to my strengths, boss.”

“Alina Starkov will be kept at the Little Palace. Entering the Little Palace requires us to be quiet. Blowing something up, we’ve likely failed,” said Kaz. 

“Then we should take Inej,” Jesper replied. Kaz’s breath caught. “She’s a good investment. More quiet than I’ll ever be. She can’t stay here, you know that- woah.”

Jesper put a hand out on his arm, stopping him from taking another step. Kaz looked up at him, and for a moment he saw Jordie; the face of his brother melted away as he moved his arm out of Jesper’s grasp. 

“Hang on, aren’t we on Pekka’s turf now?” So he finally figured it out. But that was the least of Kaz’s problems. He could manage the Fold now, but Jesper was right about Inej.

“I go to Heleen now and ask for her buyout, she knows I need Inej and sets a price I can’t pay,” Kaz explained. 

“That’s evil,” Jesper's face scrunched up, as though they weren’t on an island full of sinners. “Well, how do you know that?”

“It’s what I would do.” Kaz couldn’t fathom it—he could never own someone, let alone Inej—but the logic tracked. He wanted her on the job, but he couldn’t risk it; financially nor for his own… health. “Besides, Inej refuses to kill. Would you trust her in a matter of life and death?”

“Well, I’ve trusted her so far and I’m still alive, so yeah,” Jesper shrugged. “But what about Lorna? You haven’t let her work any jobs for nearly two years, do you really think she’ll be able to-”

“She’s fine,” Kaz said quickly. He had to believe it. If she of all people could make it, then they’d be set with a million kruge. “She knows what’s at stake.”

“Fine. Now, you want to tell me why we’re scoping out a rival club?” Jesper glanced up at the Emerald Palace’s sign. 

“To talk with an old business partner.”

“The bouncers will know you on sight,” Jesper warned. 

“That’s why I brought you with me.” Kaz was already walking away. “Make sure they don’t see me.”

He would have avoided interacting with Poppy by any means, Kaz didn’t like dealing with people twice, but his greed and spite were rather excellent motivators. While Jesper caught the attention of the bouncers at the door, he snuck around to the stage entrance, ducking inside. In the glamorous dressing room sat Poppy, primping before the next performance.

“Boris, would you-” they turned, expecting to see a stagehand when they sensed someone else in the room. 

“It’s been a while, Poppy,” Kaz greeted. Poppy grabbed a small shooter from the table and took aim. “I can see you’re still upset.”

“About you stealing my shares of the Crow Club?” they finished. 

“It wasn’t stealing. It was just a raw deal,” Kaz corrected. “Most deals in the Barrel are.” Lorna had convinced Kaz to bring on the performer as an investor and business advisor to help revitalize the once-dismal club, all in exchange for a percentage of the shares… which Kaz took for himself when the contract for the building renewed.

“What do you want, Dirtyhands?” Poppy put the gun aside and faced the vanity again. 

“I need to find someone. Or at least, learn how to find them,” Kaz explained. “Tonight.”

“Looking for a club act, are we?” Poppy scoffed. “You know, I taught Lorna to dance for free. As a favor, in fact, to overlook my loss of the shares. Maybe I could at least watch something come out of my own investment.”

“I’m looking for the Conductor,” Kaz said, waving the other idea aside. Poppy turned back to look at him, startled. “So you do know him.”

“This is about a job, isn’t it?” Poppy realized. “One that sends you all the way east, for a million kruge? You’ll never make enough to compete with Pekka, you know? He’s a king! You’re just the Bastard of the Barrel.” 

Kaz made his way around the room; of course Poppy heard about the job by now, and of course, his own title meant nothing against Pekka’s. He wanted to hear something he didn’t know, like-

“Tante Heleen wrote you?” He pointed to the scrap of paper with his cane, hidden under one of Poppy’s many pieces of jewelry. 

“Just this evening, yes, you snoop,” Poppy barely glanced over. “She was asking about the Conductor as well. Probably about the same job. So I warned him to steer clear of her.”

“You warned him? With a note?” Kaz clarified. What a fool. “She wanted you to do that so she could have the messenger followed.” Poppy only then realized the severity of what they had been involved in.

“She wouldn’t hurt him, would she?”

“She would if it meant hurting me. Now, if you have any loyalty to him, tell me where he is. Right now.”

Lorna stared at the papers she laid out on Kaz’s desk. They were done. Her wrists and hands ached, but her job was done. Now she had the time to stare at the papers and try to quell the burning storm of memories. Two bells to go before they’d set out for Ravka, of all places, to collect a Sun Summoner in the Little Palace, of all places. There was no way to avoid it.  

She had to sober up, having gotten drunk on despair. Kaz wouldn’t turn down that high a sum, and he wanted her on the job. Part of her wanted to kill him, take him down with her for getting her into this mess. The other part of her called her foolish for wanting so, after she owed him so much. In a way she owed him her life, no matter how much either of them denied it. 

Lorna was his, and she hoped it was by her own volition. 

She’d have to remember that when they inevitably made it into the country. Jesper would be chatting up a storm, Kaz would ignore him while keeping an eye on the so-called Conductor, and Inej…

Lorna looked at the document she wrote for Inej; Tante Heleen of the Menagerie was viscous, the peacock had a sharp beak and even sharper talons. Her cage could keep the Suli girl trapped here on the island. Kaz had been saving up, paying her buyout in increments, but Heleen wouldn’t let her go so easily. 

She flinched as the door suddenly opened and Kaz strode in.

“Kaz? I finished the travel papers, but what are we going to do about- what are you doing?” she paused as he practically shoved her out of the way, opening the safe in the wall and rooting through it.

“We have the Conductor. Get your things and get ready to go,” he said.

“But what about Inej? Heleen won’t…”

“She will with collateral.” Lorna’s eyes snapped from the document in his hand to his face.

“The Crow Club? Kaz!” He slammed the safe shut, closing his eyes and taking a breath. 

“Get your things. Get ready to go,” he slowly repeated. Lorna straightened.

Her boss, Kaz Brekker, was a man of passion. He spent hours plotting against men like Pekka Rollins who wronged him, yes. But his passion also led him to care for his crew, in his own way; Lorna couldn’t comprehend how someone with as much power as Kaz Brekker could give his entire being to someone else, all of his assets for that someone… if only to see her be made free, seeking nothing in return. Lorna could agree that they needed Inej for this job, but his feelings for the girl were getting too out of hand. Did he already know that?

Lorna sighed.

“Bring your coat, then.”

[ashes-2-ashes57cba-ver2]

Chapter 1: An Over glorified Secretary

Warnings: not recommended for readers under 18, harassment, past trauma, references to past $uicide attempt, OOC Kaz Brekker (perhaps)

It was a quiet night. Not entirely a lie if one went by Ketterdam standards. The Crow Club was as lively as ever, tables for Makker’s Wheel were full, cards and drinks kept hands busy, and the sound of dice rattled against hardwood destiny. Kaz Brekker would almost admit he enjoyed it. Almost. While the rain forced everyone—tourist and local alike—inside, flooding the clubs and pleasure houses, his leg ached, pronouncing his limp and sour mood.

That and the single gunshot that fired through the air. With a quiet sigh he made his way over to the table, stopping Jesper Fahey from grabbing the loot of kruge thrown in the center with his cane. Kaz shook his head.

“No loud noises at the table, Jesper,” he scolded. “You’ll scare off the pigeons.”

“Wouldn’t want that, boss,” the Zemini replied, sitting back in his seat, squirming under Kaz’s scrutinous gaze.

“Shouldn’t you be on the door?” Kaz reminded him. If he earned a single kruge every time he found his second anywhere but at his post, he’d be rich enough to buy out the Emerald Palace. 

“Yeah, right away, boss,” Jesper scurried away. Kaz tossed his cane to his left hand and let the game continue, marching off.

“Early for action, innit, Kaz?” a voice followed. He glanced behind and considered murder.

“What do you want, Rotty?” he asked, suppressing another sigh and continuing to make his rounds, cold eyes scanning the floor. 

“Someone stole a DeKappel from a mercher’s private residence,” the man reported, following in his boss’ footsteps.

“Is that so?”

“It’s a painting. A landscape of Ravka. The Fold. Oil on parchment.”

“I know who DeKappel is.”

“Well, he don’t do nudes, so I never heard of him.” 

“Get to it, Rotty,” Kaz stopped in his tracks and turned to him, already growing tired of the conversation. Rotty pulled out a miniature of the painting.

“Worth something like 10,000 kruge,” he said. Kaz’s brow and corner of his mouth lifted in what he only knew as amusement. He turned his gaze back over to his club. “The thief had to get past four roving guards, high fences, padlocked doors, and a security system designed by one of them Grisha witches.”

“Fabrikator,” Kaz corrected.

“Whatever,” Rotty waved it off, pocketing the miniature. “The point is, either it was a group effort or a ghost.” That caught his attention. Did he know? Could the fool somehow put it together?

“Why does this concern me?” Kaz asked, still tired of talking.

“I’ve got a buyer lined up! Legit money. So, if you hear a whisper…” Rotty tried to mimic one of Jesper’s charming smiles, winking at him. Kaz took only a single step towards him, leaning in close.

“Who can hear a whisper here?” He kept his voice only just above the noise. Kaz turned and left before Rotty or anyone else could bother him. He climbed up the stairs, took one final look at the night’s crowd, and entered his suite. He took a breath, relaxed by the sound of rain from the window and rustling papers.

“Did he ask about the DeKappel?” asked the crackling voice that came with the rustling. Kaz turned to face Lorna Solovey, who expertly filed through documents on his desk. Her chestnut colored hair was down tonight, protecting her neck against the cold and framing her focused, pale face. Her skin and the candlelight only made the dark circles under her eyes more prominent. To anyone else, she looked rather unassuming, but Kaz knew better. 

Lorna was a snake just as much as he was a crow. Cunning and conservative, efficient in how she moved about in the world and in her work. She had once argued that the first thing people often did when they saw a snake was step on it. He reminded her they did so because they knew snakes could bite. 

“Kaz?” 

“He did,” he finally answered her question.

“Thought so. I’ve found a suitable frame for it,” she turned back to the papers, pointing up at the stolen DeKappel hung on his wall. Kaz huffed in amusement, recalling the night before when he was high on the success of his escapade, now framed in gilded oak. Lorna reset Kaz’s desk and took only what she needed. “And I was looking over the reports from last season, we need to do something about the drink menu or else we’re going to be falling behind come winter.”

“Didn’t know my manager had such care for how I decorated my space,” Kaz teased, crossing the room to his wash basin and throwing his coat toward the bead. Lorna caught it and hung it up on the hook on the wall with a single hand as they crossed paths. 

“What I am is an overglorified secretary. See? I did your laundry. Next thing you know, I’m getting you a hot chocolate or buying you a new hat,” she dramatically waved her hand toward him, opening the door and letting the noise of the club drift upward.

“What would I do without you?” he called after her, though it sounded more like a disgruntled statement than a question. She answered anyway.

“The same thing you’re doing now, but slower and with a migraine.” Lorna shut the door behind her. Kaz shook his head as he began to methodically peel off his gloves; she was right, of course, though Kaz never really enjoyed that fact about her. But as long as he kept her busy, he could trust she would be able to keep things running. It beat the alternative, where only one had walked away from the edge of the roof.

He felt a chill grace his spine. Kaz paused and looked over his shoulder at the window he had left open. It was still pouring rain, but that wouldn’t stop her. And yet…

Kaz turned back to his vanity and started to scrub his hands with the warm water. Within moments, the atmosphere of the room changed. There she was.

“Hello, Inej,” he greeted the shadow behind him, knowing she was there. “What information do you have for me tonight?”

“A lead on a job,” she started. “A big one. Enough money to change lives.”

“It doesn’t take much to change someone’s life in the Barrel,” Kaz continued scrubbing.

“A million kruge?” she challenged, almost audibly raising her brow. Kaz straightened. That caught his attention. 

“What’s the name?” he asked, clearing his throat and thoroughly drying his hands. 

“Dreesen. A wealthy merchant.”

“Dreesen. I’ve heard of him, he could afford it.” Kaz slipped his hands into his gloves, picturing a mercher with greying hair and either a ridiculous beard, or frivolous moustache. “The question is, what’s worth a million kruge to him?”

“He’s looking for a crew willing to cross the Fold into East Ravka and bring back something.” He turned to face her now, raising a brow. 

“The Fold?” he questioned. This new job was either a sham or would end up being worth more than a million. She lowered her gaze. “Well, of course, certain death pays a million. He didn’t say what he wants nicked?”

“No. But he’s taking meetings tonight, starting at midnight.”

“Tell me you followed him.” Kaz already knew the answer, her smile said enough.

“He brought someone in from a ship. Took a way back to his house in the Garden District to avoid attention,” Inej delivered her report. Kaz leaned back against his vanity and pictured her expertly making following the mercher along the rooftops, the rain wouldn’t stop her from following this through. 

He pictured her quite a lot anymore. 

“I would have followed him inside, but Dreesen hired some private security. I would have had to use my knives to get closer.” Well, at least the job was real enough to have hired extra hands. 

“Private security… anyone we know?”

“A Zemini man. I think his name is Tendo. You know him?”

“Yeah. He gambles at one of Pekka’s clubs,” Kaz practically spat the name, “So I won’t have leverage on him. But Pekka will.” He went to his desk, Lorna had thankfully left it just as he liked—she was right, they needed to do something about their drinks, malt liquor wasn’t cutting it—and sorted through his papers, looking for some way he could get in on this job, whether by getting Tendo under his influence, or some other means. Inej lingered in the doorway. 

“Kaz, I got this lead from one of the girls at the Menagerie. They tell me things in case you’d buy them out, like you did with me,” she said. At least she was to the point.

“I didn’t buy you out, I’m paying off your indenture,” he corrected.

“You know what I mean,” she sounded irritated now. “This one girl, Kesh, she has skill. She’s like me.”

“I only invest in one of a kind,” he snapped. He needed to get to work and Inej’s lingering presence was not helping him focus. In fact, he was distracted by his disbelief of the idea that the Suli girl could find anyone enough to match her skills. Of all the girls at the Menagerie, she had startled him, appearing out of the shadows, even with bells around her ankles. He needed her on his crew. He needed to focus.

“She isn’t like you. No one is,” he insisted, holding her stunned gaze until she glanced away. Finally. 

“So? What’s our move now?” asked Inej, stepping in the room. Closer.

Kaz paused, looking up at the DeKappel. There was no way to gamble through the Fold, no one to negotiate or hold hostage. The only way through was through. Luckily he had several cards to play… but he didn’t know the game yet.

“You’re the one of us who believes in a higher power,” he stepped toward the painting, staring down the black waves of abomination. “If we’re going to survive a round trip through the Fold, we’ll need a miracle or two.”

They needed to work fast; there were stops to make and time was matching Kaz, Inej, and Jesper’s quickened pace through the streets of the Barrel. All they needed was to answer a single question.

“Tell us how to safely cross the Fold.”

“The Fold? If I knew safe passage through that, I’d be wealthier than the whole Merchant Council,” scoffed the madame of one of the many brothels.

“You told me you brought in girls from Os Alta. The other side,” Inej pressed her. The older woman only took a puff of smoke.

“Yeah. The hard way. Lost a few to those damn volcra too.”

“Nah, there’s no trick to it except how it makes people disappear,” answered a local Zemini busker, crouching in an alley, waiting for his next victim to swindle.

“I heard you bragging of a way to make a path,” Jesper clarified.

“I was taking kruge from a tourist. A little lie! The Fold keeps those Ravkan bastards and their Grisha attack dogs in check. Can you imagine how dangerous it would be if it wasn’t there?”

“Just go around,” the Fjerdan man shrugged, continuing to wrap his hands before the next round in the fight club.

“It stretches all the way north to the Fjerdan border,” Kaz argued.

“Ja. So go to Fjerda. March through the permafrost.”

“How long would that take?”

“From here? Four months. Maybe five.” Not the answer he was looking for. Kaz sighed and watched the man stand up.

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

“Either you take your time, or you take your chances.”

No luck from anyone. Any whisper of an alternate route dissolved in the air or would set them back months. But Kaz was still holding out for an answer, he wouldn’t give up until every bridge was crossed. He had one more card to play, back at the Crow Club.

“We’ve asked everyone we know. There’s no way to cross!” Jesper cried, throwing his hands up in the air as they turned the corner, their familiar sign coming into view.

“Not everyone,” said Kaz, still barreling on. 

“Wait… do you mean Lorna?” Inej questioned. “Why didn’t we start with her?”

“I didn’t want to have to involve her if it wasn’t necessary,” was all Kaz replied. He needed her to keep her in sound mind and in control of herself. But they were out of options now.

“That has citrus! Shake it, don’t stir it!”

“Put things back where they belong! The bitters and sour mix have the same bottle!”

“Pour it at a forty-five degree angle, please! I want to see foam heads no more than an inch thick! I’m talking to you, Una.”

Lorna relayed her instructions, demanding a standard be kept. Her staff may not have had much experience, but they all had a willingness to learn and spirit enough to get them through nights such as this, when the rain had patrons flocking through the Crow Club doors. She nodded in greeting at the regulars and made sure to welcome new faces. So far, aside from Jesper firing his gun, the night was just like any other… which was why she assumed the worst as one of the barmaids scurried behind the bar. Lorna held an arm out, stopping her—Viene—from hiding away just yet.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s Mister Cartwright again,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Oh, finally. Some good news,” Lorna replied, surprising the girl. “Stay here behind the bar, drink some water. I’ll take care of it.”

She knew exactly where he was sitting, he was hard to miss. Mister Cartwright, a portly man who somehow became wealthy enough to gamble thrice a week, had been a recurring problem, and now that he had finally crossed the line, Lorna had a well-reasoned excuse to boot him. Lorna marched up to where he lounged at one of the card tables and slammed her hand down, interrupting the round of play and looking at the cards in his hand.

“Mister Elias Cartwright,” said Lorna, mustering up as much authority as she could. “Looks like you have a losing hand. I suggest you tuck-tail and leave while you still have weight in your pockets.”

“Oh, my money isn’t the only weight in my pockets, love,” he goaded, belting out a heartfelt laugh. 

“Are you quite finished?” she raised a brow, unamused. His laughter died down, though the humored look on his face remained. “You haven’t paid your tab in three weeks, you disrupt the other players, and you harass my staff. If you want skin, I suggest the Orchid or White Rose, but your time here at the Crow Club is done, sir. I will not ask again.”

“Come on, you can’t do that!” he cried, still not taking her seriously. “I haven’t paid my tab, and I still plan to spend good money here.” He looked her up and down with a grin that made her stomach lurch.

“I think we can do without your business, Mister Cartwright,” she insisted. He waved her off and went back to his cards, an unfortunate 7-2 off-suit.

“Where’s your boss, missy? I wanna talk to the man in charge.”

Lorna grabbed his cards between her fingers and threw them into the nearby pillar. The pair engrained into the wood with a surprising thud. His eyes widened as she towered over him, her countenance darkening. She learned a thing or two from Kaz, and she would make sure everyone in the club knew it, if they haven’t already.

“All I plan to do is trespass you from the premises, peel off your finger nails, and expose you for investment fraud,” she warned. Cartwright went still. Lorna leaned forward, her shadow darkening his paled face. “And yet, you will find that I am more merciful than he. Still want me to call for him?”

Lorna flashed him her canines in a malicious smile, daring him to take the bait. Cartwright sputtered, quickly grabbing his coat and hat before scurrying out the door. The patrons returned to their play, now that the show was over. She huffed, dusted off her hands in triumph, and returned to the bar where Viene was patiently waiting.

“Thank you, Lorna,” she said with a grateful smile.

“Next time someone gets handsy, you have my full permission to spit in their drink and set them on fire, alright?” said Lorna. The girl nodded and went back to work. 

Lorna let herself sigh. It was still early, and she was already testing her wits. This was turning out to not be a typical night, after all. Not a moment too soon, she heard the clack of Kaz’s cane before she caught sight of him. She saw him quickly leave earlier with Inej and Jesper by his side, but now it seemed their errands were unsuccessful. She shook her head, knowing the trio would need a pick-me-up if they were going to work out whatever problem they had encountered. Tea for Inej, spiced rum for Jesper, and brandy for Kaz; Lorna loaded a tray and brought the drinks over to their usual booth.

“And now you’re a waitress,” said Kaz as she placed his glass down.

“Consider yourselves lucky,” she scoffed. “Anyone else might have poured you some sorry excuse for ale. Or poured it all over your heads,” she mocked a curtsey, bringing a smile to Jesper’s lips.

“Before you go,” Kaz held up a gloved hand. She stared for a second too long, not immune to the rumors of claws or red stains hidden under the leather, despite knowing the truth. “How did you cross the Fold?”

…Not this, please, I was doing so well, Lorna thought to herself as she went still, eyes widening and jaw setting. She couldn’t tell if she was about to burst into tears or destroy the entire island. Lorna forced herself to clear her throat and sat herself on the edge of the table.

“I crossed on a skiff during a supply run with fake documents. It was my first forgery, actually,” she paused, looking down at her hands. She remembered the small blue flames and swirls of shadows caressing her skin. A quick breath to forget. “It was one of the luckier crossings. If it's the papers you need, I can get you set up, but I don’t know if they’ve changed their procedures since the last time I was there. From what I hear, Eastward crossings are few and far between because of that West Ravkan general gunning for independence. That and the volcra, of course.”

Jesper and Inej groaned in defeat and Kaz bowed his head. Lorna had a feeling that whatever her boss needed to cross the Fold for was proving to be a problem; she wouldn’t dare ask what the job was, not unless Kaz found it necessary for her to know. 

“Here’s what I don’t get,” Jesper spoke up after a moment.

“We’re going to be here all night,” Inej mumbled. Lorna snorted.

“Rude,” the Zemini glared at the two. “Why haven’t they tried going under it? Just dig a tunnel.”

“Tried that. More than a century ago,” Kaz answered. “Something heard them digging.”

“It’s always tunnels with you,” Lorna muttered with a pointed glance. Her boss’ fascination with underground passages and tunnels have always been amusing, even with the sharp look he sent her way.

“It was made hundred of years ago by that crazy Grisha,” Jesper continued.

“The Black Heretic," Inej added.

“The one who controls shadow. They’ve got one in their army now. General Kirigan?” 

There it was; the sickening thirst to destroy everything in her path, including herself. Even now, just over three years since she had last seen him, his name sparked a heat in her. Not like the warmth of a relaxing fireplace, but more like a greenhouse in the summer, slowly depriving her of oxygen. If anyone looked at her now, they would see a hardened expression, one that they had no doubt seen in a certain Kaz Brekker.

“Your point?” Inej thankfully moved their conversation forward.

“If one of his kind made it, can’t he unmake it?” asked Jesper, finally reaching his point. Lorna scoffed.

“Have you ever put out fire with more fire?” she argued, raising her brow.

“Then what’s the opposite?”

“...a Sun Summoner,” said Lorna with venom. “It doesn’t exist. It’s just a myth they made to give people false hope.”

“Dreesen comes into town, doesn’t waste a minute. Sends out for a crew to steal something but doesn’t specify what. Is it heavy, large, worth more than a million on the black market?” Kaz spoke up. Lorna tilted her head, finally learning what had gotten Kaz so riled up this night: a million kruge for a mystery heist. Right up his line of expertise. “Maybe he doesn’t know.”

“We can let this one go, Kaz,” Inej said gently. Lorna doubted he would.

“Sounds like a trap, anyway,” Jesper leaned back in his seat, sipping at his glass.

“Exactly how would this be a trap?” Lorna said, sharply. “A trap would sound easy, and from what I had just heard, this does not sound like easy work.”

“Lorna’s right,” Kaz nodded, “this is something else.” Before his words even had time to hang in the air, one of the gang members—Muzzen, his name was—jogged up.

“Boss, we intercepted a note from Dreesen,” he reported, out of breath.

“Did you, now?”

“It’s for the owner of the Orchid. Says they require the services of a Heartrender. Tonight before midnight,” he said. 

“A Heartrender?” Kaz repeated, adding the new variable into his plans.

“That would mean Dreesen needs answers from someone unwilling to talk,” Lorna helped Kaz realize. “Classic Grisha interrogation method.” He stood up, ready to move again.

“Then that’s how we get this job before anyone else. Bring Dreesen a Heartrender,” Kaz determined.

“Boss, just one problem,” Muzzen said, clearly nervous. “Pekka Rollins knows.”

Lorna looked up at Kaz as the name rang in the air, like the foreboding bell of a funeral procession. Despite his cool and collected demeanor, Kaz Brekker was a man of passion who seemed to dedicate hours each day purely to sit and loathe the leader of the Dime Lions gang. The hatred he spewed was unlike anything she had ever seen, even from herself. Even the way Kaz repeated the name-

“Pekka Rollins,” sent a shiver down her spine. Seething would not help them now.

“Kaz,” Lorna snapped him out of his daze, “you need to move quickly. The Orchid is closer to our territory than his, but not by much.”

“Right,” Kaz blinked hard and looked back at Inej. “Who’s the Heartrender at the Orchid?”

“That would be Milana,” said the Suli girl, moving out of the booth with Jesper. 

“I’m sure she’ll be easier to find than a way across the Fold,” he said with a crooked smile, grabbing his hat. Lorna was fully prepared to watch them go and hold down the fort, but Kaz turned back to her and looked her up and down.

“What are you doing sitting down? You’re with me, now,” he nodded toward the door with the others. 

“So, you’re finally lifting my ban?” she questioned, unsure if she was excited or anxious. 

“Consider it probation,” Kaz rolled his eyes. 

“Only took you about two years,” Lorna mumbled, quickly following her boss and comrades out the door of the club.

Lorna could see the lights of the mercher’s grand house from the end of the promenade: he certainly had a million kruge to spare. Kaz led the group, Lorna a step behind, with the finely dressed Heartrender, Milana, behind her while Inej and Jesper tailed, keeping their heads on a swivel.

Lorna knew there must have been other Heartrenders scattered throughout the city, ones that would come at a cheaper price, but it seemed her boss wanted it to be known that he was pissing off Pekka Rollins intentionally. She knew of death, and found it was a stupid way to die. 

Kaz glanced at her; she pressed her lips together, worried he heard her thoughts.

“You should turn back,” he said in a low voice. Lorna choked on the air in surprise. 

“I beg your pardon? I’m no longer prohibited, you’re the one who told me I was with you.”

“I should have thought more carefully. Turn back now,” he hissed.

“You wish,” Lorna sneered. Kaz Brekker was many things: ‘aggravating’ was at the top of the list. “Ravka isn’t my home anymore, but it is my territory. I’m in this now whether you like it or not, Kaz.”

He didn’t reply, but he bowed his head in a way that Lorna chose to interpret as acceptance. She wasn’t going to let him or her fears bully her out of this. Besides they were too close now, the iron gates had come into view. Milana scurried up next to him.

“I really appreciate new business, but you’ve only paid for an hour of my time, and I have to be back at the Orchid,” she said.

“The Orchid isn’t safe tonight. Your life’s in danger with this job. Make yourself scarce for a few days afterwards,” warned Kaz.

“Mr. Brekker, are you threatening me? Really? Even if I’m nice, my boss will call the stadwatch on you.”

“It’s not him you’re in danger with. It’s Pekka Rollins,” Lorna corrected.

“My boss would call the stadwatch on him as well,” Milana insisted.

“Which is why your boss is already dead,” said Kaz, stopping and turning to face the woman. Lorna almost wanted to laugh at how her eyes widened, as if she could be so naive. She had never met the Dime Lions leader before, but it seemed to be the thing he would do. Kaz turned again and approached the guard.

“Who are you lot?” 

“We’re here to see Dreesen,” Kaz explained.

“You’re not with Pekka’s crew.”

“And you’re not in Pekka’s pocket anymore if you don’t owe him.” Kaz reached into his coat and tossed the man a satchel of coin. Lorna did not even want to know how he acquired a high enough sum to pay out this man’s debt to Pekka. She simply walked behind her boss through the gate and onto Dreesen’s property. She felt a brush of air as Jesper passed her.

“Hey, where did you get that coin?” he asked. 

“Hey!” the guard shouted. “One of these has a hole in it!”

“Saints,” Jesper smiled. Lorna swore Kaz went three shades paler.

“Some sort of inside joke?” she hoped.

“Inside,” Kaz ushered them in instead of explaining. 

“One look and I can tell. Criminals,” the man, Dreesen, warmly greeted as the group interred his office. “I’m not meeting anyone ‘til midnight.”

“We heard you needed a Heartrender,” Kaz went straight to the point. Milana raised her hand and flirtatiously waved her fingers. The older man stood up behind his desk and got a good look at the woman, humming in consideration. Lorna resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Alright, she stays, the rest of you out.”

Milana went to step forward, but Kaz blocked her path with his cane.

“She stays. And we have an exclusive on this job.”

“Mr. Brekker,” Dreesen sighed as though he were scolding a child, what he thought Kaz was, “no businessman worth his salt hires his first applicant.”

“No. No, I understand,” said Kaz, surprising Lorna. She wondered how they would get in now. Taking a hostage? Have Inej sneak in later? “Of course, I will have to report you to the guild for kidnapping and harboring a prisoner without proper chain of title.”

There it was. The guard behind his desk carefully moved his coat aside, the handle of his gun reflecting the light. Lorna didn’t need to look back to know Jesper had done the same with his trusted pearl-handled revolvers. She was ready for a fight—when was she not?—but trusted Kaz would be able to worm his way through.

“You wouldn’t,” Dreesen frowned underneath his well-trimmed moustache.

“No businessman worth his salt bargains for what he can take,” Kaz countered. Dreesen stepped up to him, staring him down in an effort to challenge and break him. Silence hung heavy until Milana raised her hand again.

“I have to be back in an hour,” she said.

“...Alright, come on.” Just like that, Dreesen walked past Kaz and led them out of the office.

The wine cellar was a bit smaller than Lorna expected, but that became the least of her worries when she caught sight of the supposed prisoner, tied to a chair with a bag over his head. Their job was to cross the fold and bring back something, but no one knew what it was except this mystery man. Supposedly. 

“Who’s this?” Kaz asked.

“So you don’t know everything after all,” Dreesen realized, sounding genuinely relieved. “This is Alexei Stepanov.”

The mercher removed the bag, revealing a bloodied and broken face that Lorna likened to a lamb. From his face and name alone, she could say he was certainly Ravkan, a young man like him no doubt belonged to the First Army. 

“Two weeks ago, young Alexei here crossed through the Fold on foot. Alone.”

“How?” Inej asked, empathetic as ever.

“They’re keeping it quiet, but allegedly he was one of a few witnesses to… an event,” Dreesen sounded unamused about the report. Lorna could be glad that at least she wasn’t the only one left in the dark.

“Water,” Alexei begged, seeing Dreesen pour some for himself. Lorna watched as Inej took the pitcher from the man’s hands and poured a glass, glaring at him for neglecting his prisoner. She almost huffed in amusement; as if a man like Dreesen could have any shred of decency.

“What kind of event?” asked Kaz.

“I know an expedition was swarmed by volcra. Should’ve been a total loss, but something happened. Some device detonated. Obliterated the volcra, lit up the dark like a forest fire. I know it wasn’t a fire or else no one would have survived. This was some invention no one had seen before,” said Dreesen.

Lorna stared into the air, visualizing it all happening just as he said. A skiff inside the wall of shadows, all in a panic as those monstrous creatures swooped down to attack. If Alexei had survived on foot, then he either fell off the skiff or climbed out for his own survival. She pictured him looking back in time to see a vague sort of explosion that apparently destroyed the volcra and brought light to the Fold. 

Something about it didn’t make sense. Who would make a device like that? The Grisha or someone else? Was it a new development to make trips easier or something for the war effort?

“He knows,” Dreesen continued, nodding toward the shaken boy, “but he doesn’t seem to be able to articulate his account of events. Some sort of traumatic lapse. So…” he gestured for Milana to get to it. She looked at Kaz, who nodded for her to go ahead. The woman went to kneel before Alexei, brushing his wild hair out of his face.

“You’re safe now,” she said, gently, soothingly. Lorna could almost hear his pounding heart slow down as her fingers skated from his open palm to his wrist. Alexei’s eyes softened. “Now you can just speak, and I will just listen.”

“...Alright,” he said, swallowing hard.

“Tell me what happened in the Fold. What saved you?” asked Milana.

“You won’t believe me,” he started, keeping his eyes on hers, Lorna tilted her head in anticipation, “but it was a Sun Summoner.”

You can light up the world if you want to, he had said to her. 

She remembered burning so bright it might as well have been the sun itself. The marrow of her bones, the snake on her back, every fiber and sinew of her being did nothing but burn. 

The fear and enchantment of fire was within and around her. 

Night turned into day from the explosion. A wall of fire decimated everything in its path.

She could picture the moment clear as day, but now the image was overtaken by a searing burst of light, emitting from a faceless Sun Summoner.

Lorna’s breath caught up to her, her teeth clenched and chest ached. Inej quietly gasped beside her, placing a hand over her heart and looking up with glassy eyes. Kaz and Jesper were eyeing Dreesen as he approached Alexei.

“Who was it?” he asked, feigning reverent compassion. Alexei finally broke free of Milana’s eyes.

“If I tell you, you’ll set me free?” he asked.

“You have my word. I’ll set you free,” Dreesen nodded and smiled. Lorna lowered her gaze, knowing the mercher would do nothing of the sort. Kaz knew it too, shifting his weight. It was out of their hands, anyway. “You’re in Ketterdam now, Alexei. You can go anywhere in the world from here. Just imagine,” he advertised. Milana nodded in agreement. “Come on.”

“Her name is… Alina Starkov,” revealed Alexei.

“Alina Starkov?” Dreesen repeated. Alexei nodded; by the look in his eyes, Lorna could tell that this Alina must have been his friend of some sort. He must have known that he just condemned her to whatever plan Dreesen had for her now. 

“Show me the manifest,” Dreesen instructed one of his men, standing up. Lorna saw the small revolver in his belt as he passed. “Perfect,” the mercher seemed to have found Alina’s name on the manifest. 

“You’ll set me free now?” Alexei spoke up.

“Thank you, of course,” he seemed to remember, swiftly pulling his gun and firing a single shot into Alexei’s head, scaring Milana out of her wits, causing Jesper to jump and Inej to flinch. Kaz didn’t move, still staring at the body of the little Ravkan soldier. Lorna pitied him, and she didn’t pity many.

Dreesen looked over the body, assuring he was dead.

“We are now the only people west of the Fold with this information,” he said. “My ship sails for West Ravka at dawn. If you can prove that you have a way through the Fold and back, I’ll put you on that ship with an advance. If you don’t, I’m giving this job to Pekka Rollins.”

They’d be cutting it close. Closer than Lorna would have liked. They hadn’t gotten a lead on any way to cross without dying, and that was before they learned of the newborn Sun Summoner. This was an incentive to test their boundaries.

“Give me a day,” Kaz bargained. It wouldn’t be enough. “I’ll have a plan.”

“You have until sunrise, then your ship will have sailed, Mr. Brekker,” Dreesen insisted, not allowing them the time. “The prize is one million kruge. Now bring me Alina Starkov.”

WE ARE SO BACK YOU GUYS! I'm back in my fanfiction writing era for now and I cannot wait for you all to read this new story. I know, it's a major shift from Star Wars to Six of Crows, but I've got the range for it, trust. Thank you all so much for reading this far, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

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Specter would love the new BTS album btw

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Coming Early May!

The newest story heading your way:

"Fire in the Water"

A Grishaverse fanfiction with my OC, Lorna Solovey (her hobbies include knowing and being right).

This is another slow burn romance story, but way darker overall. This story deals with serious topics such as self-harm, $uicide and ideations, past drug abuse (all of which are pretty graphically described), and SA via coercion and emotional abuse (not graphically described). I will post warnings before each chapter, as usual, but I strongly advise against minors reading this. Just keep in mind.

A few other points.

1) I'm following the Netflix plotline for Shadow and Bone and Six of Crows. It's simply clearer and there's more for me to play with. Don't worry, I have read the books before, but I respect myself enough to not tackle the Ice Court Heist.

2) Because of the content warnings, I'm aging up the characters just a bit. I know this was a big problem with the anniversary republish, but I am not Leigh Bardugo, and I am not comfortable with putting minors through what I have planned. Lorna is about 23.

I still need to do some minor edits, formatting, and designing, but I am so excited to get this story out there and I can't wait for you all to read this story!

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The urge to use silly chapter titles for the upcoming fic😅

Stay tuned yall

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New fic coming soon...

Almost done with the first draft of a new fanfiction! I have quite a few (a lot) edits to make but this will be ready by summer at the latest; just in time to catch the hashtags that should be trending.

16 chapters.

6 crows.

1 lifetime of heartbreak and hope.

Stay tuned for the title reveal and for more details!

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You guys are in for a treat!

I'm writing a scene in this new fic that's got me giggling and kicking my feet teehee

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About Chapter Titles...

For fanfictions that follow a TV series (like how my Specter Series, for example, follows The Bad Batch) do you like when chapters have the same title as the show, or original chapter titles?

Original

Same as the show

Voting ended onJan 22