All Things Must End

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟐 • ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

        "Are you sure, Your Majesty? She is the Sun Summoner. She is powerful—"

        "She is nothing!" Leyti yells out, her mask of indifference finally faltering. "I am powerful! She is the one at my feet, is she not?"

        The soldier answers quickly, "Yes, you are right, Your Majesty."

        "Good. Now leave us."

        He does not hesitate this time. The thud of his boots gets duller as he leaves the room at once, leaving only her and I.

        Her eyes narrow as she looks down at me from her dais. "What game are you playing?"

        "The only sick game here is yours," I grumble. "And I'm here to end it."

"Mm," she hums. "During our last talk, you seemed fairly set in your ways. You said you would never surrender yourself. What changed?"

        My mind wanders to my train of thought a few days ago.

        This world prayed for a Sun Summoner, but instead, they got me: A young girl unqualified to rule a country, burdened with infinite power.

        I don't know what I'm doing.

You are weak.

        "I realized that this fight needs to come to an end," I reply.

        "Indeed, it does," she says with a hint of skepticism still dancing in her eyes. "And your loyal husband? Your Grisha daughter? You would so readily leave them behind?"

        I swallow the painful lump in my throat. "I am here, giving myself to you. I don't know what else you want from me."

        Slowly, she rises from the throne and descends the dais to meet my burning gaze. "What I want. . ." she hisses, "is for them all the forget about you. I want not only my people but also yours to let their allegiance to you dwindle to nothing."

        "And you think just because you kill me, they will go running back to you?"

        "Oh, I'm not going to kill you," she laughs coldly. "At first, I was going to use your power to my advantage, but that would risk my people merely fawning over you more, and killing you would make me the villain."

        "So then what is your strategy?" I sneer at her.

        She closes the comfortable distance between us so that her dark glass irises meet mine. "I want them to think you abandoned them. Little did I know, you would make that choice all on your own."

        "I haven't abandoned them," I argue. "I am saving them from war."

        "They won't see it that way. You left without so much as an explanation. They will forget about you with time, and I will regain my kingdom's trust while you rot in a dark cell. She snaps her fingers above her head and a swarm of guards come in, ushering me to my cell, or rather my lonely crypt. Everything inside me tells me to fight back, but my arms remain limp at my sides as we ascend the stairs of a tall turret leading to an empty room at the top and a small slit of a window on the far wall. The door slams shut behind me, submerging me into darkness save for the dense beam of light let in through the window.

        I take a deep breath and take a seat on the cold stone floor. The war is over now. She got what she wanted. There will be no more killing in my name.

        If that is the case, then why does this feel so terribly wrong?

***

        Time alone forces my mind to wander, mainly to Aleksander. It used to be easy to block the use of our connection from either side, but now, with three amplifiers connecting us and an equivalent desire to see each other, it is nearly impossible. That is why I suddenly find myself within the walls of the Grand Palace. Aleksander is slumped over at his desk with his cheek resting on his palm, fast asleep.

        He must have discovered that I am no longer in Ravka, or else he would be out searching still like he was when I last visited him.

        Soft, repetitious breaths leave his lips, making the ebony hair hanging over his eyes flutter slightly.

        I shouldn't be here. It only makes me regret leaving him more. But I had to for the sake of ending the war and all others that might be waged in my name.

        However, there is a voice deep within that whispers, "I am unworthy."

        Of him?

        Of my crown?

        Of the world's glorification?

        I'm not sure. Maybe all of the above. And maybe I am running away, but what does it matter if it is a means to an end?

My hand finds its way to his silky hair, stroking his head lightly. A small sigh escapes his lips and he murmurs my name. "Alina."

Then, he startles awake when he realizes what he said, his wide eyes searching the room. "Alina!" he calls out, but I am already gone.
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