Chapter Text
You learned about grisha in the orphanage you called home when you were little, too little to be tested according to the Second Army’s rules. When you were older, you would realize that the age thing was likely because no one in any sort of army wanted to deal with raising children, especially toddlers with magical abilities, but until then you simply assumed it was because little kids didn’t have their powers yet. That aside, before any of the little orphans you lived with displayed any whisper of the power that might lurk in their veins, you were taught about grisha and their abilities. Children being children with their overactive imaginations, many you knew fantasized what it would be like to be one type of grisha or another.
Etherealki were by far the most popular. After all, who wouldn’t want to dance with fire or summon the wind to blow on hot soup for you?
A few of the kinder-hearted souls wanted to be Corporalki, healers specifically since children--even orphans--so rarely had the desire to take control of another person’s body away from them.
Of course, there were the select handful that loved to experiment with whatever they could get their hands on that fancied themselves as Materialki.
And, as you would learn is pretty customary for little children that know they will grow up to be beautiful, a handful of the more popular kids thought of themselves highly enough to believe they might be the mythical Sun Summoner, the one that would bring an end to the Fold once and for all. That, you doubted even as a child.
No one, however, wanted to be like the Black General. Everyone knew that his shadowy abilities were fearsome and powerful, but they only ran in his direct bloodline. Sons of the Black General always became the next Black General for he only ever had one heir and they were always boys. It was that way even before his ancestor stained the power forever by creating the Fold.
Yet for some reason, you always perked up a little when the topic of shadow summoners came up. Eventually, you would wonder if some deep part of you knew what you really were given the way everything developed. After all, you’d never been even the slightest bit afraid of the dark; you’d even felt comforted by it back when you’d been hiding from wolves in the woods before ever toddling into the orphanage. The dark was safe for you; the dark was where no one could see you to hurt you.
Then the day came when you were being chased by a couple boys that were the dangerous combination of bigger and older than you after the pretty (normal, your mind hissed viciously) wannabe sun summoner girls said they’d trade a kiss if they stole your necklace for them. You didn’t even know why they would want the necklace at all; it was just a scrap of bone attached to a leather cord that you’d had since before you came to the orphanage.
Initially, the boys had just been talking to you like they sometimes did, but when one of them snuck up behind you and tried to yank the cord off your neck, you knew something was wrong. So of course, you elbowed that boy in the ribs for his trouble and took off looking for a hiding place. As you hid in the barn, you begged for the saints to do something, anything that would make them leave you alone. You prayed they wouldn’t find you in your pathetic hiding place ended up being a stall in the barn where you were still plainly visible.
“Aww, where’d she go?” one of the boys whined, flabbergasting you.
You were in the open stall right next to him, how could he not see you? It was a little dark, but--You slapped your hand over your own mouth to stifle the gasp that tried to surface when you saw the unnatural way the shadows were writhing around your body, shielding you from the barn’s tiny lantern’s light.
“Boys, what are you doing in here?” one of the caretakers demanded from the doorway.
“We were just playing!” they chorused.
“Well enough of that. The Second Army is here early. They want to test all the children before dark, so we’d best get moving. Come along!”
You kept holding your breath until your lungs were burning and they were long gone. The grip you seemed to have on the darkness seemed to relax when your body did the same, and the shadows slunk back to the corners of the horse stall where they were supposed to be. Tentatively, you wiggled your fingers to see if you were really the one controlling them at all.
A happy little laugh bubbled out of you when they curled around your fingertips once more, but just as quickly the elation faded. Even at your young age, you knew it would only spell trouble if anyone else found out about your little trick.
Either being a shadow summoner wasn’t as rare as everyone believed, or worse, you were a child of the Black General. If that was the case, there would have to be a reason he abandoned you, right? They only ever had sons, so maybe he got rid of you because you were a girl? No. That couldn't be right. He was trying to get rid of the Fold just like all of the others; he wouldn’t be that heartless to his own child.
Then again, the Black Heretic was the one that made it in the first place, and he was a shadow summoner. Did the general abandon you because you were bad like the Heretic?
No. No matter what the situation may be, no one could find out that you were grisha. But with the Second Army here to test it . . .
Your young mind realized then what you would have to do. You would hide until nightfall, then you in all your eight-year-old capabilities would have to sneak out of Ravka for good.