Fallis stares at the shadow sitting silently on the floor of the cell, their legs crossed and eyes closed in meditation. Thin streams of light slip through the cracks in the ceiling-- she swears it shies away from its destination across their face-- casting them in an uneven glow.

  Their cloak and Shadi insignia were confiscated when they were apprehended, along with any weapons they could find-- at least, that's what Dathol told her when she woke a few days ago-- but Fallis knows better than to trust they are completely unarmed. The magic-less void where the shadow sits tells her as much. She sniffs in annoyance. What are you?

  Despite most of their belongings being confiscated, Fallis notes the scarf wrapped around their shaved head and pinned close to their chin. The fabric hangs loose around their collarbone and shoulders, and she is surprised they were allowed to keep something that could easily conceal a small knife. Their dark, long-sleeved tunic and armor is replaced with a scratchy, white, ill-fitting short-sleeved tunic, and Fallis scrutinizes their curling white tattoos running from the back of their hands, up their arms, and disappearing beneath the sleeves. They almost seem to... move and glow in the dim light, gold strands dancing in white ink. She dismisses it as a trick of the impossibly white ink on their dark skin and the dim light .

  A million questions race through Fallis' mind as the shadow seems content to leave her in frustrating silence and ignorance. She gives an indignant, but quiet, huff, worrying at the loose ties along the collar of her own tunic to resist worrying at the sutures holding her heart together instead. She pretends she can't feel the way her racing pulse vibrates up the threads and through her skin. It makes her nose itch if she thinks about it.

  She really hopes the Shade can't hear her heartbeat.

  "It bothers you." They break the uneasy silence first, Fallis' eyes snapping up to find silver eyes glittering but unreadable in the irregular shadows. For a moment, she'd swear their eyes glinted gold.

  Unsure of how to respond, and not trusting her voice to stay strong, she simply nods.

  "Why?"

  She blinks, caught off-guard by her alleged savior's directness. Fallis stammers a bit in a futile attempt to get her voice to cooperate, stops, clears her throat, and tries again. "It's not natural."

  She swears she sees a flicker of offense flicker across their face for a moment, but it's gone as soon as it arrived. Their expression schools itself into frustrating silence once again, though Fallis tries to keep her annoyance off her face. She takes a calming breath, deciding that her time is better spent digging for the answers she needs.

  "Could you escape? If you wanted to." Fallis offers.

  They tilt their head slightly. "Of course."

  She isn't surprised by their answer, only their open admission."... show me." Fallis is glad it sounds almost as much like a demand as she'd tried to make it.

  They stare at her a few moments, then turn their attention to the light creeping in from the ceiling. They stand, completely silent, reaching their hands above their head. To Fallis' delight and dismay, sparks of violet lightning envelop their hands, lashing out into the gaps above them and wrapping around a cluster of heavy stones. They slowly lower their quivering hands, the stones rumbling and scraping as they're carefully pulled from their place and guided to the floor. The violet sparks then coalesce into a small platform in the air, the Shadi using it as a step as they hop up and pull themselves out of the cell, vanishing along with their magical step stool and leaving Fallis staring, slack-jawed.

  She barely has a moment to consider how she is going to explain the situation to... everyone, when they reappear, dropping back into the cell, and returning the stones to their place just in time for the sound of armor and hurried steps echoes down the hall. A quick, flat-palmed swipe of the air towards the stone erases any trace of the disturbance and they drop back into their meditative pose, stuffing their still-glowing hands in their lap and leaving the dust lingering in the air as the only remnant of their 'escape'.

  Fallis resists the urge to roll her eyes as the guard approaches, one hand wrapped around his sword, though it remains sheathed for the time behind. "We heard noise," they declare, "what was that?"

  "It's fine, nothing you would've been able to stop," Fallis isn't quick enough to stop her sharpened tone, though she notes the guard can't be older than nineteen and softens the edge. "Everything is fine, thank you for your concern. I can handle myself just fine against one prisoner."

  He hesitates a moment, but doesn't press the issue further, instead giving Fallis a salute and returning to his post. She rubs at her collarbone and sighs, a handful of colorful Discic curses slipping out under her breath until the Shade speaks up once more.

  "Are you really sure about that?"

  "About what?"

  "Are you really sure you could take me in a fight?" Their lips curl upward, as if the thought amuses them.

  Fallis returns the smirk with a deep frown. "Of course, why couldn't I? You know what I am."

  They nod slowly. "Your number...." they muse, and before she can snap that such information is private, they continue, "Light... seventy-four? No, five."

  Fallis completely freezes at the declaration. How the fuck do they know? They scrutinize this stranger, searching for something, anything. A glimmer of the torrent of magic that she now knows for certain must churns through their veins.

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Their voice is soft, as if sharing a secret. "The most powerful Light sorceress in all of Estya." Their words may as well be treason.

  Fallis internally recoils, but physically takes a step towards the bars, her voice falling to match the Shadi's. "How the fuck would you know that? What's your number, then? It's only fair."

  Infuriatingly, they offer a pleasant smile, but keep their silence. Fallis huffs and pushes off the bars, pacing a few moments as she runs a hand through her blonde hair-- usually tied up, but now hanging loose around her shoulders-- and wincing as she accidentally pulls on the sutures.

  She returns to standing close to the bars, and-- just this once-- she gives into temptation and curiosity. "What about the Archmage? Do you know his number?"

  The answer is instant. "Light sixty-nine."

  "He says it's ninety-six!" Fallis has to smack her hand over her mouth as her voice involuntarily raises. She doesn't dare be caught in such a treasonous conversation.

  They shrug. "Then he is a liar, and a terrible one at that. His 'number' is just his actual number reversed. You could beat him in combat with one hand tied behind your back." She can't help but snicker at that, careful to keep quiet as the Shadi continues. "He has a vendetta against you, does he not? He knows you are powerful, but not how powerful. I would bet my blood he cannot sense your number, no matter how hard he tries."

  Fallis' childish snickering fades as she tries to catch her breath-- trying not to panic and failing horribly as it catches in her chest, and she swears she can feel her heart sputter. Oh Shit Oh Fuck Oh Gods NoNoNo don't let--.

  Her racing thoughts are interrupted by the Shade grabbing her hand. "Fallis? Look at me." She looks up at them, concern written across their face. "There you go. You are fine, I promise. I will not let you die, got it?"

  Fallis nods and they hover a hand just over her chest, above where her stitches-- and hammering heart-- hide beneath her tunic. "Do you trust me?"

  Without thinking, she nods, reaching up to grip their shoulder as a lifeline. They nod a couple times, then slow the rise and fall of their chin to sync up with their own breaths. "Just focus on breathing with me, okay? In.... and out. In.... and out."

  She's so busy focusing on trying to follow their chin that she doesn't notice them gently cup their hand over her sutures until she feels burning lightning rip through her core once again. She shakes where she stands, and they gently-- as best they can-- guide her to sit on the floor.

  When she comes to her senses once more, she hears them apologizing profusely, taking a moment to realize where she is... though she isn't quite sure what happened. "What happened...? Why are you apologizing?"

  "I..." they sigh, loosening their grip to allow Fallis to pull away if she wants. She doesn't. Not yet. "That... is supposed to be settled before you wake up."

  Fallis tilts her head up to look at them, and finds their deep concern written all through their face, their body... an open book. "So it was you that saved me," she murmurs, "Why did you do it?"

  "You could have just asked, if you were so curious," they lightly tease, smiling slightly, though it's short-lived. "Why would I not save you? It was within my power to do so."

  She doesn't have a counter to that. She'd do the same if the role were reversed, right? She's the most powerful Light sorceress alive. Of course she would...

  She shakes off her sluggishly wandering thoughts, opting for something simple. "What's your name?"

  Their smile returns, warm and oddly disarming. Fallis doesn't question it just yet. "Vala."

  "...Just Vala?"

  "Of course not," they say, "Vala Ervnin."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Fallis blinks, silently attempting to get her tongue to cooperate and make the right shapes, with limited success. "How...?"

  The Shade-- Vala-- interrupts their question with a muttered curse. "Sevv, how would you say it in Orbin...?" They carefully work through the syllables in-- presumably-- their mother tongue, before victoriously snapping their fingers. "Ah, Eromin. Vala Eromin."

  Fallis does a double-take, straightening up from her place on the floor. Is nothing ever simple with them? "Bullshit, there's no way."

  They tilt their head. "No? It is my name. Is there a problem with that?"

  Fallis kicks herself for voicing her doubts, shaking her head. "No. I just... we were taught that the Eromin line died out centuries ago."

  "Then perhaps your leaders should invest in your schools instead of weapons." She winces at their clipped words and pointed glare. Yeah, I deserve that. "My turn. Why did you ask me if I could escape?"

  "Morbid curiosity." The lie slips off her tongue faster than she can stop it, and Vala's unwavering stare tells her they see straight through it. Fallis sighs. "I... heard some rumors about you. I wanted to see if they were true."

  Vala sits back, away from the bars slightly and worries at the hem of their headscarf. "People talk about me? I am flattered." They meet Fallis' gaze once more, silver eyes piercing through the shadows and Fallis watches them flick over every detail of her face. She can't help but squirm under their scrutiny.

  She opts to change the topic, hoping to hide her wavering courage. "... why do you stay in here? You can obviously leave whenever you want."

  The question results in a shrug. "Fastest way to get an audience with the Archmage."

  "That's it?" She expected a handful of wild answers... but not that one. "There's a pretty big difference between an audience and a trial."

  "Oh? What are they charging me with, then?"

  She blinks. "You haven't been told? At all?"

  Vala hums. "No. I presumed either your Archmage is too much of a coward to charge me with anything, or I would find out later."

  Who are you, to assume you are above our laws? How powerful can one person possibly be?

  Fallis bites back her immediate impulse to snap back. "Okay then.... " She takes a steadying breath. "As far as I know, the charges are espionage on behalf of the Darkforge, treason, possession of Dark magic, use of Dark magic, and Necromancy."

  She studies Vala's face carefully as she rattles off the list of charges, searching for the tiniest change-- especially as she recalls the sought sentence. "They're... obviously seeking the death penalty. Four times over."

  Vala continues to surprise her, as they chuckle. "That is it? I really do hope your Archmage is smarter than to try and levy a necromancy charge against anyone, considering actual necromancy is literally impossible to perform."

  "And... you know that how?"

  Their expression turns incredulous. "Gods above, please tell me you all have fundamental magic classes."

  Fallis shuffles slightly, and Vala gives an exasperated sigh. "Fyl Niyannix, how do you all not blow yourselves up at the first spell?"

  "Hey!" she protests, "I have a seat at the Scholia Solii waiting for me when I am discharged!"

  They hum, rolling their eyes. "Mmhm, and how much have you had to learn in a combat setting?"

  She purses her lips, keeping her silence, despite knowing it's answer enough for Vala, who just rubs their temple. "No wonder the Archmage has stayed in power for so long, despite being a complete tanvvv..."

  More unfamiliar words. "What.... tongue is that, anyway?" Better to just rip the bandage off.

  Vala raises an eyebrow, which sends Fallis quickly backtracking. "Unless I have caused offense, in which case, my apologies. You don't have to answer."

  They shake their head. "Better to ask than to insist everyone speak the same tongue as you," A smile returns to their face, "It is Safspik. Though I believe most Orbin-speakers just call it 'Silver Speak,' despite that being a shite translation."

  Fallis perks up slightly at the familiar sound. "From the Silver Sands, right?"

  Vala hums. "Yes, have you been?"

  "No," she admits, "though I would like to visit, someday."

  "Leave your armies and blades behind, and you will be welcomed with open arms." Despite the typically warm statement, Vala's tone is deathly serious.

  Fallis isn't sure how to respond to that. "Uh... duly noted."

  Luckily for her, Vala circles the conversation back around to the... hefty accusations. "Anyways, I cannot be convicted of treason because I do not owe my allegiance to the Ebonblade and never have. Despite having extensive Darkforge connections, I do not share any 'Ebonblade secrets' with them--" They raise their tunic just enough to show the myriad of scars slashing across their midsection, and a small curse slips from Fallis' tongue-- "No matter what strategies they use to try and convince me otherwise, and Necromancy is literally impossible. You were on the brink of death but you were not dead yet."

  They smile pleasantly. "I do not fear their desperate accusations."

  Fallis' gaze remains fixed on their scars, long after Vala covers them once more. If what they say is true, then... Father of Light, how could she have doubted their motives for even a moment? A chill cuts through her blood at the thought of Vala-- who is no friend of the Ebonblade-- enduring torture to keep their secrets out of enemy hands...

  Gods above, who are you?

  "Would you like another rumor about me?" they offer.

  She isn't sure she does... but part of her hopes Vala will continue talking nonetheless.

  Instead, they let her sit in the silence of her own thoughts, and she wants little more than to hide from those silver eyes. She's gotten so few real answers about anything-- about their impossible surname, why a Shadi gives a singular fuck about her in the first place, their mystery blood number, the threads holding her heart together...

  She nods.

  Vala gives her a small smile, pushing up their sleeves to show the bright white tattoos continue to wrap around their biceps and across their shoulders, waiting a beat for Fallis to register the traces of gold ink slithering along the dips and curls of the design.

  And before Fallis can remark on them, Vala turns around and pulls their tunic up to their shoulders to show their back. The vibrant white ink threaded with gold continues downward, curling around their shoulder blades and following their spine downward until it finally stops just above their hips.

  She doesn't know much about a Disciple tattoo... just that she's never seen one extend beyond the shoulder blades.

  Vala lowers their tunic, chuckling as they turn back around to see Fallis' bewildered expression. They press a finger to their lips, the smile remaining even as they resume their meditative pose on the floor.

  Fallis purses her lips, still staring at their now covered shoulders. "You're a Disciple," she breathes-- in awe, of course. Certainly not in fear. "You weren't meditating... you were praying."

  They hum softly. "I have followed Nadyn's guidance for.... some time, now. The Divines still debating about whether or not to further extend my Flames."

  "Flames... you mean the tattoos?" she winces at how blunt the question sounds.

  Thankfully, Vala seems to take no offense. "Mmhm, my Jisvli Envir." At Fallis' tongue-tied expression, they sigh. "You can just call them Flames. Most do."

  She can't help but stare at the Flames decrying Vala's skin. The lessons her Commanders drilled into her and every other Ebonblade soldier about the Disciples playing on repeat.

  We are not at war with the Disciples.

  If you are not civil with Disciples, you will be court-martialed.

  You do not fuck with the Disciples of Nadyn. Ever.

  So why are they incarcerated? Charging a Disciple with necromancy alone could cause an international incident...

  "Does the Archmage know?"

  Vala shrugs. "I do not know, and honestly? I do not care."

  "Why not?"

  "What is he going to do? Execute me?" They offer the concept a morbid chuckle. "He is welcome to try."

  She takes a sharp inhale at their glib dismissal of their own death. "...he is seeking the death penalty... by drowning."

  Their expression immediately sours at the suggestion, violet lightning dancing through their veins, casting them in an inhuman glow. "He is welcome to try. He can see how long his precious empire lasts," they hiss. Fallis shivers.

  Vala takes a steadying breath, closing their eyes for a beat and allowing the tension to melt from their shoulders-- and along with it, the lightning. Fallis tries to wrap her arms around herself, but winces and abandons the attempt as she feels her stitches pull.

  "Careful, I cannot save you again if you break them," Vala warns, "Not for a while, anyway."

  Fallis nods, opting not to acknowledge the admission that they could perform such an impossible feat again... eventually. Instead, she just stares at the floor, trying not to wither under the silver eyes fixated on her.

  The silence continues to gnaw at her. She wishes she could just ignore it, walk away, but something keeps her anchored here, despite the abundance of half- and non-answers. The fact Vala seems perfectly content in the quiet and the dark somehow makes the gnawing worse. "What... did you do, anyway?"

  They tilt their head. "You are going to have to be more specific."

  Fallis gestures to the covered stitches. "This."

  "I saved your life."

  "Yeah obviously," she rolls her eyes, "But there's a pretty big gap between 'save a life' and 'literally sew someone's heart back together and somehow keep it beating.'"

  "Is there?" Fallis bristles at their feigned ignorance, even as they keep talking. "We have very different definitions of 'saving a life' then."

  "Cut the bullshit, Vala, you know that's not what I'm asking about."

  Vala sighs quietly, a tired shadow cast over their face. "You know I cannot answer that. It was within my power to save you, so I did everything I could."

  "Yeah but how did you do it?" She lowers her voice so it is barely audible. "You know I cannot sense your magic, but I know you used dark magic to do it. What I want to know is how in Gehenna you managed that without killing me."

  Vala mirrors Fallis' volume, keeping their tone measured and guarded, even as they finally offer an answer through grit teeth. "Aiosk thought he could guarantee your murder with Blood Decay--" they practically spit the affliction's name, as if speaking the accursed name would manifest it once more-- "So I had to figure out a way to stop it. As you can probably imagine, that is not easy and I cannot do it again until I can be certain it does not kill both of us. So for the time being? Do not break your stitches."

  She mutely nods, suddenly acutely aware of her own fragile pulse. She awkwardly clears her throat. "So, uh... how long until it's... permenant?"

  "While I am here? Never." Short and to the point. Better than endless riddles. "The enchantment will eventually settle and keep your heart steady, but I cannot mend the rest of the damage on my own."

  Fallis gestures towards the exit. "I can call a medic."

  "No. Not one of yours." Fallis resists vocalizing her offended impulse. If she's learned anything during their interactions, it's that Vala does everything with purpose. "I know of one man capable of properly mending your heart, and you will not find him within the Ebonblade."

  She glances over her shoulder towards the exit, listening closely for any indication of an eavesdropper. She once again keeps her voice hushed as she replies. "What are you saying?"

  Thankfully, Vala mirrors her once more. "I am saying that you need to get out, Fallis. Not just out of the city, but out of the Ebonblade entirely."

  "That's treason!"

  "Fallis," their tone turns icy, and she recoils slightly at the gold specks flickering in their eyes for a beat, "Aiosk nearly murdered you in cold blood... and yet he is not in a cell like this one."

  "You killed him, though," she ventures, "right?"

  "I certainly tried," they confess, "Though instead of saving you, your medics were too occupied with saving him."

  Vala lets the news hang in the air for a moment.

  They-- they chose to save him over me? Why would they--

  They break her train of thought once more, maintaining their hushed tone. "You need to leave the Ebonblade. For your own safety."

  Her response barely breaks a whisper. "How... do I know I can trust you?"

  Vala's smile is sympathetic, and they answer with a certainty Fallis can only be envious of. "You already do, right?"

  "Right." Father of Light she wishes she's actually as confident as she sounds.

  They stand, taking a careful step towards the bars, lowering their voice further. "Pack a bag and leave your window unlocked, if you decide to heed my advice. I can come retrieve you after my 'audience' and make sure you get to safety."

  She considers their words long and hard, though she knows she still has a few days to decide for sure. "Why are you doing this...?"

  Vala sighs quietly-- not out of exasperation, but compassion. "Because no one deserves to die of Blood Decay," they state plainly, "and I have reason to believe the world will need your Light, someday soon."

  Their warning continues to tumble through her thoughts, even as Vala backs away from the bars and resumes their medi-- prayer. Even as Fallis wordlessly wanders through the dungeons and back to her own chambers, though one thought stands out amongst the rest.

  I am so fucked.