ECLIPSE, grishaverse

i. saints and dark magic

SCREAMS AND CHANTS WOKE her again. The voices echoed in the ivory walls of the White Cathedral until it reached the last room, her room. They bounced in the corners and on the interior of her head, carving the name of her sister once, twice, thrice, and a hundred times all over again.

Sankta Alina.

Sankta Alina.

Sankta Alina.

Yelena felt her heart racing, hot blood pumping on her veins quickly, anger surfacing. She opened her now obsidian eyes to be greeted by the ivory room covered in black shadows as the dark thick crimson liquid ran down her nostril and across her cheek.

Somewhere along the weeks that she passed underground and confined to her chambers, barely seeing her sister and the rest of the group, she had noticed this new part of herself that activated every time she was mad. It felt wild, hungry, but most worringly, dangerous. Her dark fingers twitched and she had to bite her tongue for not to let that feeling drive her actions.

Not only she had lost her light, but the Darkling's merzost had corrupted her and was eating her inside.

The oldest Starkov had cried herself to sleep every night, or day, she wouldn't know, but not even in her dreams she could find peace. She could only see his beautiful scarred face in those. Sometimes, he kissed her until they were out of breath but in others, his long fingers pressed around her throat until she was the only one out of breath.

Yelena reached for the handkerchief in the bedside table, she whiped the blood on her face before finally getting up of the bed. Her slim figure shock as the cold hit her pale skin so she hurried to get the dark fabrics around her. The General caught her reflection on the cracked mirror besides the door; she'd lost weight so her cheekbones and jaw were more pronounced than before, and her thick pitch-black locks that matched her eyes did nothing to hide the deep bags under her eyes.

She felt sick.

Everytime her eyes ran down her body to only see that the muscles she'd won in Os Alta were long gone and replaced with skinny pale arms, and the smooth skin on her hands was dipped in coal, she wanted to throw up. Or when they went over her upper body, where her long black hair used to lay free and wild, but now it caressed her shoulders.

Yelena looked away. Counting the things she hated about herself wasn't worth it anymore. She had to think about her goal. Yelena's only thought during her confined time was to take the Fold down and restore some peace to Ravka and Grisha. And of course, keep her family safe. She wasn't sure what to do with The Darkling yet.

Most of the time she wondered about what was happening outside her room, and on land. The few times she went out, the guards didn't let her talk to anyone, nor even get close to them. She haven't seen her sister since the day they arrived in the White Cathedral, and Yelena was completely sure Alina was being guarded the same way she was.

The door of her room suddenly opened wide before the Priestguards walked in. One had chesnut hair and had a thin layer of sweat sparkling on his forehead, while the other was a little taller and his facial features reminded hard and tense. They reminded her of Fedyor and Ivan.

The serious one threw a pair of dark gloves at her, before speaking, "Put them on."

"What for?" Yelena arched a brow, even weakened she had to put on a fight.

"The Priest's orders." He firmly said, no giving her space to talk back as he added, "Be quick."

She snarled, but did as she was told. They were taking her somewhere and she was too curious to be stubborn.