battle cry - beth crowley
and i know exactly what i'm for
to hurt and destroy and nothing moreand if it's true that i was made
i still don't know if i can change
/
'go on, burn a while' - anonymous
-
seraphina
Between combat training and the countless hours of studying in the library and her preparation for the Darkling's return, Seraphina had little time to even think about the General or his second in command and apparent arch nemesis. Which was surprising considering that it was the reason she was here in the first place.
She had visited Baghra in the morning. Genya had warned her extensively about her ruthless mannerism and harsh criticisms and this morning, she felt unready to face the condemnations.
As Seraphina strolled up the overgrown path that led to Baghra's hut, she could help but feel a chill running down her spine. The storm overhead still hung like a stubborn stain of grey in the sky and skittles of rain pounded down though the thin fog of the morning. With an eerie shock, she realised that the storm ominously resembled the Unsea.
Seraphina felt an anxious desire to practice her magic; she hadn't done so since she got to the Little Palace. She felt the power of time writhing in her veins, calling out to her. She considered the idea but quickly decided against it. It was too obvious, too risky. Even if she could slow down time, she couldn't erase memories.
The alabaster feather moved in and out of her fingers with a precision. Serphina used the feather as an anchor; a sign to let her know that she had performed her magic. If the feather hovered, she had triumphantly succeeded. The creamy feather was a gift from an old friend, now disgraced and banished for deserting the First Army. Serphina missed her but she wasn't prone to sentimentalism.
Seraphina was lost in her so lost in her thoughts that she would have walked right into the door if the branches of the thin birch trees hadn't wavered in the wind. The girl took a step back, startled by the proximity of the hut. It looked like a dismay place to train and an even more dismay place to live. Heat radiated in smoky fumes from inside.
The interior of the hut matched the woman who lived in it. Baghra was nothing like Seraphina expected. She was beautiful in an elderly kind of way; her skin did not sag but shone with a strange glow and her eyes were covered by a cloudy haze but her vision was sharp. The only feature of the woman that bore her age was the bones that seemed to protrude from her thin frame. Her skin were beams of moonshine; very pale and it seemed to shimmer in the light of the fire.
'Close the door, girl. You're letting all the heat out.'
The hiss that came out of her mouth sounded peculiar but the bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.
Seraphina quickly slammed the door shut. The hut shook violently, like a dog shaking to expel water.
'Too hard. You'll bring the whole place down on us before I start to train you.'
Delightful. Serphina imaged what Genya might say if she had been with her.
'Now, let me take a look at you'
Seraphina walked closer to Baghra. Her eyes bore into Seraphina's hazel ones, probing for hidden secrets. She gestured to a small chair, rickety and creaky as Seraphina sat down.
'They tell me you're the daughter Colonel Vessensky and that you are Inferni. Correct?'
Seraphina nodded once.
'But you're not born of Vessensky blood?'
Seraphina drew a breath. There had been rumours about her birth and many people knew that she wasn't a direct descendent of the house but nobody had dared to take about it. At least not in her presence. The sudden accusation forced her to confront the fact that she was an anomaly.
'No, my parents were from Os Kervo but they died in one of the Darkling's crusades for power. Colonel Vessensky adopted me from the battlefield.'
'A child born into war.'
Seraphina fiddled uncomfortably in her seat and she slouched down, shrinking from the words that stung.
Baghra rasped her narrow cane on Seraphina's knee. She yelped, surprised by the sudden use of violence and the power of the command in the old woman's voice.
'Sit up, girl. You are Grisha now. Have dignity in yourself.'
Trying not to scowl or wince, the raven haired girl pushed her shoulders back to sit tall. Baghra nodded, almost approvingly
'Better. They tell me you are Inferni.'
Again, Seraphina nodded. The old woman's face twisted into a a thin smirk.
'Show me your power, girl. Show me what you can do.'
Seraphina called to the magic inside her and it answered. A red flame erupted from her hands. The blast of power was large enough to destabilise her concealed power. She could feel the spiny arms of black start to twirl into her flame. Beads of sweat fell from Seraphina's face, scrunched in concentration.
The air felt slack. Seraphina felt each individual wave of heat being blown towards her from the fire. In a blind panic, Seraphina realised that she was rapidly loosing control of the veins. They swivelled in all directions in a desperate attempt to break free from their master. No. Seraphina should have known that to summon without practice would be dangerous. Now, her mistake could cost her everything.
With all her remaining strength, she called forth the rest of the power within her. An inhuman shriek, beyond human hearing resonated in her ear as she darkness disappeared into her closed palms. The fire disappeared in an instant. Time resumed its pace. But one look at Baghra's shocked face told her that things weren't the same.
Serphina's breaths were ragged and she quivered in the heat of the fire and from exhaustion. As free as she felt, a heaviness settle in on her features; her olive skin almost pale, eyes deranged and perfectly curled hair crumpled. She collapsed onto the chair, worn out.
Baghra was on her feet in an instant. She stuck out her cane accusingly, a wild surprise in her eyes. But then, it was replaced by something else entirely. Vicious delight.
For the next 5 minutes, neither woman said a word, both paralysed in place.
'I knew you would come'
Seraphina said nothing.
'I didn't expect you to be so pathetic.'
She tried not to feel hurt by the comment but she felt blood pulsing in her ears and a blush rise to her cheeks.
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
The woman struck her cane down on the ground so hard, a large dent was left in the hard soil. She snapped
'Don't lie to me, girl.'
Baghra turned on her heels and headed for the single bookshelf, lined with dust.
Seraphina watched as a long white hand reached for a leather bound book. Its writing was white encased in black. The cover bore the words Prorochestva Sankt Ilya: Prophecies of Saint Ilya. Seraphina's eyes lit up as she recognised the name: Saint Ilya Morozova, the Saint of Unlikely Curses.
Baghra flipped through the heavy pages, each with unfamiliar writing as if written in another language. Baghra's hunched shoulders were bent over the calligraphed words on the pearl white pages, the edges a deep cream with age.
Seraphina leaned over, trying to glimpse the strange writing. She occasionally understood a word or two but it wasn't enough to understand what the context was.
Baghra's black hair swept around her pale face as she studied the text intently. She brought her case down so suddenly on the page that Seraphina jumped.
Vremya poshlet otkazat'sya s merzost.
Time will send an orphan with dark magic.
She jabbed a rough finger into Serphina's ribcage. She barely felt it beneath the pounding of her heart.
'That is you, girl. You will become a tyrant, hungry for power and you bring forth the destruction of Ravka and all its people.'
Seraphina stood sill, frozen in place with shock. She knew she wasn't in full control of her powers yet and she did long for more but Seraphina was not a tyrant. She dread the idea of taking control without support; it sounded like a suicide mission. But she couldn't help as a little flame of dignity burn in her chest; there was a prophecy by the great Ilya Morozova about her. She had read many stories about him as a small child. She used to lay awake at night, picturing his creations: the three amplifiers of immense power. In her dreams, she saw white; the stag, the sea whip and the fire bird.
She torn her thoughts away from the amplifiers and focused on the words that stewed out of Baghra's face as sharp as cuts from a blade.
'What?'
'You're a goddamn fool. You thought you could just pretend to be normal but you are an anomaly. A freak.'
Seraphina shrunk. She hated being different, she hated the whispers from the other Grisha about how she was picked up on the battlefield and was probably the child of some low born peasant.
'Will you keep my secret?'
The old woman let out a surprised scoff and turned away, disgusted by the thought.
'I admire that you are foolishly optimistic. You expect me to say nothing when you are the damnation of Ravka. You are much more stupid than I thought.'
Seraphina fell back into the chair, face pale and skin burning with sweat. So this is how it ends she thought bitterly I made it two days inside the Little Palace. They'll burn me or drown me like one of their saints. This is how I die; by being too stupid to learn that I'm not ready to wield my power.
'I will keep your secret'
Seraphina blinked, unsure if she had heard right.
'You will?'
'Yes'
'Why?'
Seraphina demanded, anxious if this was an elaborate plan to use her power.
'When you lost control of your power, I saw the terror in your eyes. You knew you weren't in control and it scared you. I know that look, I've seen it many times.'
The old woman's hair shone in the light of the fire. Her eyes were burdened with a heavy sadness.
'I know people like you. Imprudently stupid, reckless and arrogant but you aren't a bad person. You don't want what the prophecy says. And I can train you.'
Seraphina now stood up, bewildered. She was going to defy a prophecy that directly referred to her? Was that even possible?
'I don't understand. You can defy a prophecy? Isn't a prophecy set in stone, like a destiny?'
Again, Baghra let out an exasperated sigh.
'Morozova was a genius but he was delusional. He said many things, some of which came true, others were just ramblings of a man who neglected himself. Most of the writing in this books is just a superstition.'
She paused
'But your existence is another matter completely. I'm taking a big risk for you, girl. If I train you right, you might just be our salvation.'
Seraphina sat back down for the second time. She needed time to process all the thoughts crying out in her head. The voices ricocheted in her skull, screaming doubt, pride and faith. Now that looked into her soul, she saw more than the war child, she saw a girl worth saving, a girl who had been trying all her life. A calm ripple swept over her body as she slowly accepted what she was. An anomaly, yes; but she was something else as well, a miracle.
Without a word, Seraphina stood up with determination and summoned her power. She called out to her power, not her pretentious ones but the strength hidden inside her. The tendrils of black crawled out of her palms and she felt the rhythmic throb of her power hammering into the room. She released her alabaster feather and it slowly creeped its way through the air towards the floor.
The air turned sluggish. Out of the corner of her eyes, she glimpsed Baghra. Her eyes were wrinkled in concern and probably some form of disgust but there was something else that could only be seen when time stood still. Melancholy love for a child. Seraphina knew the look well; it was her first memory as Vladmir picked her up from the battlefield for the first time.
But she couldn't keep hold of her abilities for long, the immense concentration and control it took was too much for her and she released it, gasping for breath as the clock on the mantle ticked at its original pace. The feather felt onto the hard ground and sat their, delicate.
The look of motherhood on Baghra's face was gone as she hit Seraphina on the back of her knees with her cane.
'Three seconds. If I had known you could slow time, I would have thought I was hallucinating. Again!'
And they continued training for hours.
As the air turned colder, Seraphina prepared the leave. She was tired, heaving with sweat and in desperate need for a shower. Baghra was stood at the fire, stroking a log with the tip of her cane. It gave a small red leap and settled.
Seraphina was turning the door when she her Baghra call to her.
'You better not become a tyrant, girl.'
Seraphina gave a nervous laugh. Baghra didn't return it. When she turned towards Seraphina, she could swear that a shadow had come over the hut. The ambience turned ominous and sticky.
'What do you mean?'
Baghra's sharp eyes pierce into her and, without breaking eye contact, she said
'Because if you become a tyrant, not even the Devil will accept your undead soul.'