They discovered you too late.

All your life you'd felt something strange throbbing beneath your skin, a silent current that vibrated when the world turned dangerous, when someone screamed, when the sky darkened. You called it anxiety. You called it a curse. You never called it power… until the soldiers of the Second Army brought you to the Small Palace.

The journey was long. Filled with distrustful glances, whispers behind you.

An untrained Grisha. Could be dangerous. Could be useful.

The palace gates opened with a whisper of cold wind. Gold, crystal, laughter, and power… and you, your heart pressed between your ribs. You felt out of place, as if every wall weighed you down.

They led you to the main hall. And then you saw him.

The darkness seemed to bow before him.

General Kirigan—tall, unflappable, with dark eyes that seemed to know everything before it happened. He didn't speak, but the silence between his words belonged to him. When his gaze fell upon you, you felt him stripping you bare, layer by layer, not your body… but your soul.

It wasn't a cruel gaze. It was worse. It was a gaze that saw.

"So you are," he finally said, his voice low and soft, like a shadow gliding across the floor "the Grisha who should never have gone unnoticed."

You wanted to respond. To explain. To defend yourself. But the words caught in your throat. You could only manage to hold his gaze… and that was enough.

His eyes narrowed, studying you.

"Your power," he continued "reacts to mine."

And then it did.

As if the air recognized its master, the darkness spread, like a black heartbeat… and something inside you responded. It wasn't pain. It wasn't fear.

It was… a calling.

You shuddered.

He did too.

It only lasted a second, but seconds change empires.

Kirigan took a step toward you. No one else in the room moved. No one breathed. It was as if the world had decided to watch.

"Interesting," he murmured, and it was almost a whisper.

You wanted to back away, but your feet refused. There was something about him that attracted and repelled at the same time. Like a bonfire in the middle of the ice.

His voice softened, just enough for you:

"Don't be afraid."

A beautiful lie.

Because you already knew—without knowing how—that it was impossible to get close to him without getting burned.

And yet…you didn't look away. His lips curved slightly. Not in a smile. In recognition.

And then, finally, he spoke only to you. A promise. A warning. A destiny:

"Stay close to me… and I will teach you not to fear the dark."