Chapter Text
There was screaming. He didn’t know where it came from. He just ran. And ran and ran and ran. Well, stumbled onwards for the most part. It was all he remembered doing. He had to get away. Away from the screams. He looked at his hands and found that they were covered in blood. Was it his blood? His chest hurt. Everything hurt, but he had to keep on moving. He couldn’t stop or they would get him. Something would get him. He had to keep on running. He stumbled on, blood dripping through his fingers where he clutched at his side. He didn’t remember how he got there or where he was going. All he remembered was that he needed to get away.
She probably should have listened to Zoya, Alina thought miserably. She should have gone as far away as possible and looked for allies. But she hadn’t even known where to begin. Alina didn’t have any connections whatsoever that she could have made use of. So instead of listening to Zoya, she and Mal had decided to lay low and stay on the move. So far they had been able to avoid all patrols, First and Second Army alike. Alina kept herself busy with training, hoping that she might one day be strong enough to tear down the Fold without the help of another amplifier like Kirigan. It still hurt to think of him. Alina managed to keep him out of her thoughts for the most part, after all, it had been several months since his death. But now their path had led them close to the Fold once more, and every time Alina looked at it, she remembered everything that had happened all too clearly.
Looking at it now, she almost despaired at the monumental task before her. How was she supposed to learn how to destroy it on her own? She couldn’t seek out Baghra at the Little Palace, and there was no other place where she could even hope to find fellow Grisha, let alone someone powerful and knowledgeable enough to prepare her to take down the Fold.
Alina was drawn out of her thoughts by a gentle nudge from Mal. She looked up, and immediately spotted the problem. Barely visible in the distance was a large building, probably a farm. They had been going cross-country, but this thing really was in the middle of nowhere.
“Let’s give it a wide berth, just to be sure,” Mal said, and Alina nodded.
“Hello there,” came a voice from behind them, and both of them flinched, turning around. An old man stood behind them, smiling at the two of them. “We don’t get many visitors here.”
“I’m sorry, we got a little lost. We’ll be on our way,” Alina said quickly.
He looked them up and down. Alina imagined they made quite the picture after living in the wild for several weeks. Or had it been months?
“Nonsense. You two look like you could use a good meal and a warm bed. Please do us the honour of staying with us tonight, and tell us what you have seen in your travels. We don’t get around much here, and you look like you might have a story to tell.”
Alina and Mal looked at each other. He made a slight shrug, which Alina took to mean up to you. The prospect of having a real meal rather than whatever they were able to scrape together, and sleeping in a bed instead of on the hard ground, was certainly enticing. What harm could it do? It had been weeks since they last had to evade soldiers. It stood to reason that by now people had concluded that they had perished in the Fold along with everybody else.
Alina turned back to the man, who smiled at her expectantly. She nodded.
“We will gladly accept your kind offer.”
His smile widened until he was practically beaming.
“Delightful.” He stepped forward, extending his hand, and Alina took it. “I’m Grigori. Welcome to my home.”
“I’m Katrina, this is Stas.” Grigori turned to Mal, enthusiastically shaking his hand as well.
He walked past them towards the building, waving for them to follow.
“My wife will be thrilled. We so seldom get visitors. Back in the day, we used to travel to the smaller villages around here more often, but you know how things have gotten. Can’t be too careful nowadays. So we mostly stay at home. Nobody bothers us here. Not to say that you are bothering us, quite the opposite, we are delighted to have you, I did not mean to imply you’re a burden.”
He kept on talking, but Alina barely listened, wondering if she had made the wrong call. What if he told somebody else that he had seen two strange travellers? What if someone made the right connection? She looked around, considering to turn down his offer after all, but at this point that would probably look even more suspicious.
The farm was quite the sight, next to the big main building there were three stables. Grigori was talking about how there used to be a lot more people, but his two daughters had moved to the city after they got married. Alina was too occupied thinking of a safe route out of this to pay him much mind.
He asked them to wait in the yard while he brought the good news to his wife that they were entertaining guests tonight. As soon as he was out of earshot, Mal turned around.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? Should we make a run for it?”
Alina shook her head. “That will just make us seem more suspicious if somebody asks around. I think it’s for the best if we just stay the night and then leave quietly in the morning.”
Mal nodded. “I certainly wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed. Or at least in a pile of hay in the barn.”
An elderly woman came running out of the main building, Grigori a few steps behind her.
“Welcome! Come inside. Oh, you poor souls, you look like you need a good meal and a warm hearth. Come, come.”
Several hours later, Alina felt better than she had in weeks. She was warm and cozy, and full. They wanted to wait until the farmer’s sons and their farmhand returned from the fields to have supper with everyone, but Ksenija, Grigori’s wife, insisted that they already eat something, and the two of them hadn’t put up much of a fight.
Alina was so comfy that she started to doze off. She woke up suddenly to the sound of laughter coming from outside. Three men entered, and Alina got up to introduce herself, then froze in place. Two young men entered first, one of them busy telling some joke and the other grinning from ear to ear. But they weren’t the reason why she froze.
With them was a tall man with black hair, his face marred by several scars. But Alina still recognized him. It was Kirigan. It had to be. Kirigan’s eyes met hers, and he gave her a small smile, but that was it. He didn’t react to seeing her in any other way. What kind of game was he playing now? Alina wondered. She fought down her first instinct, which was to get the hell out and as far away from him as possible.
Grigori’s two sons introduced themselves, but Alina didn’t hear a word they said. Then Kirigan extended his hand to her.
“My name is Erik. Pleased to meet you.”
Alina stared down at his hand for much longer than what would have been considered proper. He frowned, starting to draw his hand back, when Alina finally took it. If there had been any doubt left in her mind about his identity, it would have been eradicated now. She immediately felt his power calling out to hers, and quickly dropped his hand. Kirigan stared down at his hand in confusion, then looked back up, meeting her eyes.
Alina’s thoughts were racing, trying to figure out what the hell Kirigan was doing here. Were his men outside? Were they about to be captured? Was he just trying to stall them with this charade? Was everybody else on the farm in on his game? If not, why had they introduced him as their farmhand?
She swallowed, trying to fight down the rising panic. “Have you been working for Grigori for a long time?”
Grigori suddenly appeared next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Supper’s ready.”
He motioned for them to follow. Alina gave Kirigan a look telling him that she was onto him and she would not fall for whatever game he was playing. Kirigan frowned at her, looking genuinely confused.
They sat down for supper, Grigori at the head of the table, his wife on his left side, his sons and Kirigan on the other. Mal and Alina sat next to his wife, across from Kirigan.
“I know they look horrendous,” Kirigan said apropos of nothing.
“What?”
“My scars. You’re staring. It’s alright, I know I’m not pretty.”
Alina had indeed been staring at him, but much more due to the shock of seeing him here, at this farm in the middle of nowhere, and not because of the scars.
Alina looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kirigan said good-naturedly.
It was one of the most tense meals she ever had, even though Grigori’s family was the picture of hospitality. Alina felt the tension radiating off Mal as well. If the farmers noticed, they didn’t comment on it. Kirigan didn’t break character once, pretending to be a farmhand so convincingly that he almost made Alina doubt herself.
“Have you always worked on this farm?” Mal asked Kirigan, and Alina turned to him abruptly.
“No, I have been here only a few months.”
“Oh, how come? What did you do before?” Alina was sure everybody in the room was picking up on Mal’s tone, which had turned somewhat hostile.
“Actually, I picked him up in the woods, much like I did you. Although he was in much worse condition, I’m afraid,” Grigori interrupted.
Kirigan nodded slowly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you what I did before. I don’t remember anything from before Grigori picked me up in the woods.”
Alina stared at him, her mouth dropping open. He couldn’t seriously expect them to believe that he suffered from memory loss. But what was the point of this scheme?
“You don’t by any chance recall seeing me before?” Kirigan asked somewhat hopefully, and Alina froze as she tried not to burst out laughing. There was a long pause.
“No, sorry,” Mal said tightly, and they dropped the subject for the rest of the meal.
Shortly after supper, they quickly took their leave and retired to the small storage chamber that had been prepared for them with a small bed in the corner. They would have to squash themselves into it, but that was the least of Alina’s concerns right now.
“He can’t seriously expect us to fall for this,” Mal burst out as soon as they were alone.
Alina nodded. “But what is he trying to achieve? Why is everybody playing along? They all seem so genuine, he must really have spent the last couple of months working here. Why? What is he trying to do? He couldn’t possibly have known that we would come here. Do you think it’s at all possible that it’s true, that he really- ”
Mal shook his head vehemently. “Don’t fall for it. He is up to something.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Either way, as soon as everybody is asleep, we’re getting out of here. It’s way too dangerous.”
Alina nodded. It didn’t matter if Kirigan was faking or not. Even if he had really lost his memory in the Fold, he could regain it any moment and then they would be in mortal danger.
They waited until everyone was asleep, then very quietly snuck out of their room. They were just crossing the large living area to get out the door, when someone stepped out of the shadows, making Alina flinch.
“You recognized me, didn't you?”
Mal scoffed. “It’s just us now. You don’t have to keep up the charade.”
Kirigan frowned. “Charade?”
“C’mon Aleksander, you didn’t seriously think we would ever believe this crazy story.” Alina didn’t miss how his eyes lit up at the mention of the name.
“So you do know me.” There was the briefest of smiles on his face, then it immediately turned bitter. “You’re leaving in the middle of the night because of me, aren’t you? Did I do something to you? If I hurt you in any way in the past, I am truly sorry.”
Mal snorted. “Really? You are keeping this up?”
Alina stepped closer to Kirigan, taking his hands in hers. He frowned, looking down in confusion at their hands.
“Aleksander, look at me. Tell me everything you remember.”
Mal turned to her, a disbelieving look on his face. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Alina turned to him. “I want to hear his story before I make up my mind.”
Mal shook his head, disgust evident on his face. “After everything he’s done, how can you fall for this?”
“I’m not falling for anything, I just want to hear what he has to say.”
Mal shook his head vehemently, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. Alina ignored him, turning back to Kirigan.
“Go ahead.”
Kirigan looked from her to Mal and back again, frowning. “The first thing I remember is running for my life. I remember smelling blood, and there was pain, but it all felt very far away. I was running away from something. I don’t know for how long, or what it was. Grigori told me that he thinks I escaped from the Fold. There are terrible creatures in there. I don’t know. I don’t know how long I stumbled on, hurt and confused. If Grigori hadn’t found me, I surely would have died. I owe him my life. He made me part of his family. As soon as I was recovered enough, I offered to work for him. I had nowhere else to go, and I felt I owed him. I found I like living here. Everything has a purpose.”
He paused, looking down at their hands again. “The moment I first saw you, I felt a strange- connection. Like some part of me remembered you. Please, tell me who I am. Do I have a family? Are there people who depend on me that I let down?”
Alina stared at him, torn between what her gut was telling her and what she rationally knew had to be some scheme. But why? What could the Darkling possibly have to gain from working on a farm for months, just on the off chance that she might accidentally walk by? It didn’t make any sense. What if he was telling the truth? And if he was, what should she tell him?
“Your name is Aleksander. You don’t have a wife, or children. Your mother is alive, but she- she doesn’t depend on you. There is a- you- I don’t even know where to start.”
Should she tell him he was Grisha? A shadow summoner? The Darkling? The Black Heretic? What good would sharing any of those things with him do?
“Then start with this. Tell me, am I a good man?”
Alina still felt the presence of the amplifier under her skin, an eternal reminder of his betrayal. Maybe he had started off with good reasons. Maybe all he’d ever wanted had been to protect Grisha. But the methods he had chosen, what he had done to Novosibirsk, how he had destroyed everything that had been between them, she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to look past that.
“No. No, you’re not.”
He must have expected that answer on some level, but he still flinched as if she had hit him.
“I see.” He dropped her hands, taking a step back. “Well, in that case, I think I would rather leave the past buried. Please go.”
Alina looked at Mal, who shrugged, glared at Kirigan for good measure, and then simply walked out the door. Alina met Kirigan’s eyes again. There was sadness there, but also a strange sort of determination. Without another word, she followed Mal out the door.