Once, a very long time ago, a girl named Psyche wielded beauty as her power. Envious, the gods foretold that she would be exiled with a monster as her husband. Psyche feared the monster, but soon she realized that he was not the demon others claimed. Still, as he only visited at night when the shadows hid him from her, she was tormented by the idea that he truly was horrific. One night, Psyche spied upon his face as he lay sleeping. She broke his trust, and they were separated until Psyche could prove that she did love him, and wanted no shelter but him until the end.

You wake slowly, painfully, aware of what could have been a dream slipping away from you. For several minutes, you cannot entirely tell if you are still asleep or awake. The air is warm, a breeze blows lazy circles of air across your face. Tell me, child, when was the last time you felt enough peace to trust it was not an illusion?

Someone shifts by your side, and one glimpse of your lover's face is all you need to know that this is no dream. For all your nightmare's best attempts, they cannot perfectly replicate his image. Perhaps it is because he is not of their kind, the man you love, but a monster of his own creation. Your people and your spells can only do so much. They cannot fully recreate something of the Small Science, something like him. You would know. Absence made you try.

Aleksander opens his eyes slowly, dark pupils scanning the room until they land on you. Every time he wakes, you can see him start to tense until he sees you again. That is what you get for running so many times, you suppose, it makes him too knowledgeable of how easy it is to lose you.

You were never able to stay away forever, though. The longest the two of you were apart was centuries, and although those cut like a poisoned blade, they ended. You made your way to the Little Palace under the guise of Y/N Stassov, First Army cartographer and good friend of Alina Starkov, and from there on out, you were under his watch again.

In all honesty, some part of you had known from the moment your paths crossed the second time that you would not be able to leave him again without revealing yourself. Sure, your face had changed since you were the Hecari he knew in the past, but he was Aleksander and you were Y/N and you would never allow anything to part you for long. He had made mistakes, and you had tricked yourself into thinking that anyone with as many centuries under your belts as either of you could be perfectly blameless, but you were still the same couple you had always been.

In the end, the result is plain. You showed your hand and the two of you reconciled. Sure, part of that may have had to do with Alina Starkov attempting to murder you whereas Aleksander saved your life, but sometimes love needs a slight bit of motivation to pick up the pace.

The two of you are on much more solid footing now, though. If anything, you will always be united in your wrath, your protective spirit. Aleksander watches out for his Grisha, his people, and you mourn your Hellenids, your kin who have already slipped beneath the sands of time. There is no one like the two of you, and there never will be. Alina can try, but she is young, foolish, full of hopes that have yet to die. Only you and Aleksander understand how time dulls any blade. Only you and Aleksander will ever be able to complete each other.

That does not stop this whole situation from feeling somewhat impossible. You spent centuries running from him, after all, and suddenly waking up in the morning to find him sleeping next to you feels unusual. Good, but unusual. It's what you've secretly been missing since the very moment you left him, but still something you never thought you would experience again.

This change in your day-to-day life could explain why you woke up so disoriented, but in truth, you fear that it might be more than that. It has been getting more difficult to tell what is real and what is fiction. Reality blends into myth into memory. What happens here and now is only a slim shade of an idea when compared to the vastness of past experience, both yours and that of your people, the Hellenids.

You had assumed that the whispering of your ghosts would trickle off into ash and nothingness when the Shadow Fold engulfed you whole, but no. If anything, it just made it worse. You were hesitating on the banks of the River Styx, so close to crossing over into the Underworld, and then Aleksander pulled you back from death and kept you there. You cannot tread that closely to your end without bringing a little part of it back with you.

You are not the only changed one. Aleksander, too, is not the same man as he was when he set out on that sandskiff. As you look at him now, you watch the early light of dawn play on the dark slices in his face, the scars from his time in the Shadow Fold after Alina Starkov abandoned both of you to die.

It had taken every ounce of your combined abilities to make it out, but both of you are changed forever now. You cannot go a moment of your day without hearing the whispering of your ancestors increased tenfold. Aleksander used merzost and is haunted by shadowy demons of his own creation.

You both had dark, deep wounds when you emerged from the Unsea, but when yours disappeared after your natural healing had run its course, Aleksander's injuries stayed the same. You can sense how they hurt him constantly, even as he tries to hide the full extent of it from you in an attempt to maintain strength. You know him well enough to both guess that he would try to put on a brave face, and can read his body language enough to recognize the stiff movements for what they hide.

His physical appearance matters not to you. He is still yours, the man you loved centuries ago and the one you do now. If the shadows that usually billow inside of him have now decided to carve out a more visible place for themselves, so be it. You only wish that he would not have to suffer so in the process.

That is why the two of you have been scouring the Ravkan countryside in search of Grisha. The practitioners of the Small Science have been left in upheaval after the ill-fated attempt to take back control from the Lantsov king. There are few things in life you despise more than a failing, useless, greedy monarch, and not a day goes by in which you regret that the otkazat'sya fool was not already dead.

He does, however, provide you with a good opportunity to build your ranks again as the elder Lantsov son cracks down on Grisha. You and Aleksander launch venture after venture to save Heartrenders and Healers, Summoners and Durasts and everyone you can find. They're all terribly grateful to not be dead, which only gives you more allies in this fight.

Of course this will end in a fight, how could it not? You have seen plots like this play out before. Every story runs the same course, even if the players themselves do not realize it until the end. To build a war, you must have soldiers who will die for you. Aleksander will sacrifice himself to save you, but he is one man. You want hundreds.

Until then, you have moments like this, slow glimpses of what could be a far more peaceful future if this all plays out the way you wish it. For now, you are alone with the man you love, and for this brief instance, there is nothing in this world that can bring you down.

Aleksander leans up slowly, carefully, disguising his slow hiss of pain with a question directed to you. "Did you sleep well?"

The question isn't just a pleasant nothingness. You've been having nightmares as of late, snippets of what could either be memories or prophecy. If this keeps up, your mind will start to shatter. You can only hope that you'll be able to stop that before it happens. Madness and witches do not well mix.

You sigh. "As well as could be expected. I'm still on edge from yesterday."

Yesterday had almost gone quite badly. A group of two dozen or so Grisha had been chained in a long line and forced into the Shadow Fold at gunpoint by cowardly First Army soldiers. By the time you and Aleksander had gotten wind of what had happened, the volcra had arrived at the scene as well.

You had fought them off, but such close proximity to the beasts had made you uneasy. Everything reminds you of what it had been like in the Shadow Fold when Alina's light had left the two of you, how the darkness had come swooping in and left you bloody.

Aleksander had called for you to leave them, but you had insisted on saving who you could. You were jittery for the rest of the day, he could tell, but you had sworn you were fine. Perhaps he can see through you a little too well just like you with him.

Aleksander arches a brow now, likely thinking along the same lines. "So will you listen to me next time, my love? Will you let them go when it hurts you, or at least try not to disguise it from me?"

"I'll make a deal with you," you say as innocently as you can, "I will stop disguising my torments from you when you stop trying to pretend that those scars don't hurt as much as they do."

Aleksander smiles even as a fresh bout of pain turns the expression into a wince. "You drive a difficult bargain."

"I'm known for being difficult," you grin.

"Perhaps," he admits, "but I like that best about you."

It is easy, on mornings like this, to pretend that all might be well, that the two of you are not fighting a war that could be lost over something as simple as one Sun Summoner somewhere you cannot find. You have no idea if Alina Starkov has even survived, but if she did, you hope that for all the peace you wish to find with Aleksander, she will have none of it with Mal.

You and Aleksander leave your temporary shelter some time later that morning, leaving no trace that you'd been there except shadows in the corners of the rooms that fester slightly more than before. You'd heard rumors that the First Army outpost here was planning on making an example of some more Grisha near the boundary of the Shadow Fold, so that is where the two of you will be stopping first.

As dusk settles upon the area, you and Aleksander arrive upon the scene, lingering back so as not to draw unwanted attention. The two of you are technically still believed to be dead, although you doubt any smattering of soldiers could actually do so much as harm a hair on your heads. You keep your hoods up anyway. It would not do to be revealed now, not before your plan can fully come to fruition.

You narrow your eyes, straining to pick out the details in the dark night. The soldiers have put Grisha in cages, their hands bound so as to not use their abilities. The sight makes your stomach turn. Those blessed with magic should not have to die just because others are jealous of their power.

As your gaze roves from face to face, you see only weariness, fear, desolation. Aleksander had built a marvel of a world at the Little Palace, a place where all the Grisha could practice their gifts in safety. Alina claims she wants to make a better world for the Grisha, but look what she's done. She ruined the best thing Ravkan Grisha had at peace.

You've almost finished scouring the captive Grisha when you notice one particular face stand out amongst the rest. It's one you recognize, actually. It's one you've been hoping to find for a while, both you and Aleksander.

You suck in a breath. "That's– That's Genya."

Aleksander's eyes harden. "It is."

One stray glance his way and you already can guess at what he's thinking. "We need to get her. Even if it costs us the rest. Genya can find David for us."

Aleksander inclines his head once. "And David can fix me."

You make a tsking sound in the back of your throat. "Men fix toys, not gods."

He looks amused at that. "We are not gods, Y/N."

"No," you decide, "but we are the closest anyone will ever get to seeing them."

Aleksander laughs, evidently pleased. "I missed your ferocity, my little soldier."

You look at him askance. "You made me a member of your personal guard within two days of meeting me again, even before you knew it was me. I don't know why you're acting like this is the first time you've seen my ferocity in a while."

You can just see the shadow of his smile under his hood. "And yet I still didn't see enough of it. You left, as you might recall."

"Yes," you admit in a whisper, "but I came back."

He takes your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. "I know. You always do."

It is a statement spoken in complete calm, no trace of malice or accusation. In your eyes, it is the final proof that he has forgiven you, just as you have in turn forgiven him. Like calls to like. The two of you were never meant to be separate for long.

Aleksander turns his gaze towards the captive Grisha once more. The First Army soldiers are watching the Shadow Fold rumble ever closer, and you can feel the terror of the Grisha prick upon your skin like needles.

"Shall we deliver them from harm, then? Shall we take back what is ours?" He asks.

You nod once. This is it, then. From this point forward, there is no going back. Everything in the past was temporary, a step in the right direction without making enough of a scene to commit to your cause. When you save these Grisha, you'll have enough to start making real changes, to find the people you truly need and hunt down those who have betrayed you. The war will be reborn.

.Aleksander raises his arms in time with yours. Shadow monsters of merzost stalk out of the Shadow Fold, sending the First Army fleeing. Those that run are only met with spells of your creation, which pierce through their hearts like daggers. In her cage, Genya Safin fearfully raises her head, expression changing from immediate terror to slow, dense horror. She knows what the dying soldiers do not: this is only the beginning.