Chapter Text
ALINA
The smell of dust and mildew, the sound of leaking roofs, the feel of cold splintering planks on her bare feet. The low rumbles of hushed whispers, the metallic taste in her mouth, the heart beat pounding in her inner ear. This was all Alina could focus on, as Mal, her only friend, her chosen brother , her only comfort, was pulled away.
Mal fought as hard as he could, before being thrown into the black carriage along with the other boys. Boys carted away no older than twelve, to mine coal. Sending children to work the back breaking labor that even grown men struggled to accomplish.
Alina was restrained by two of the caretakers on the porch of the orphanage. She sobbed and struggled, doing anything in her power to be set free. To chase the wagon that carried her home, her heart.
She watched as the dirt smeared, tear stricken boy in the window of the carriage, got smaller and smaller. She slammed her heel down hard, on the toes of the man that restrained her left arm, buying enough time for her to yank herself from the smaller woman to her right. She sprinted forward down the unpaved road, kicking up dirt and rock as she sprinted, no mind to the pain in her shoeless feet. She could only focus on the ever smaller growing, black wagon. She hurled herself forward, with all the speed her little legs could muster, arms outstretched, grasping at empty air. His name bursting from her lungs with such force and need, that her vocal cords cracked under the pressure.
“ MAL !!!”
Yet, despite her best efforts, the horses and cart pulled farther and farther away, till any hope of catching up with him was gone forever.
Mal was gone.
She felt herself crumble, inside and out; falling to her knees, on the pebbles below her. She wept violently, as the man from before galloped behind her, before snatching her up and throwing her over his large unfriendly shoulder. She didn’t fight this time, she was too broken to try. Her reason for trying was carted away before her very eyes, most certainly to never be seen again.
Fog rolled in waves, across the forest as she swayed side to side with the man’s steps, watching as the wagon fully disappeared into it.
🌛🌞🌜
Present Day
Alina sprung up from her bed, shining with a sheet of sweat beads. She blinked away the tears from her eyes, as she raked nails through her long dark hair. The same dream again, and again. Every night, she’s awakened by this never ending memory. She pulls herself from her bed. Which was really nothing more than an old mattress and tattered crochet blanket, that did nothing to keep the cold winter at bay. The spaces between the yarn stitches of her blanket still allowed the ice to filter in. The mattress was broken down, giving way to hard planks, under the springs.
She walked as silently as she could on the old wooden floors, dragging the hem of the once white nightgown, on the ground around her. She reached the small window of the room. The only thing in the large room that was spreading light from the moon, filled to the brim with other girls that looked much like Alina did. Dirt covered and empty eyed, every last one of them. Alina danced her long thin fingers over the windowsill as she peered into the deep forest that swallowed her best friend all those years ago. The fog was ever present, even now, as the moon danced over it, causing an even more sinister atmosphere to linger in her heart.
She stood there for a moment, drinking in the sight as she thought about the rumors that surround those woods in front of her. She thought back to how her and Mal would sit up at night with bated breath. Listening to the older boys speak of the figures that would peek out from between the trees, with glowing eyes and sharp teeth.
Creatures created to guard a dark sorcerer in the woods. A creepy old man, with hollow eyes and long gray hair.
The Darkling.
She rested her forehead against the cool glass, sighing as her breath created a thin layer of steam to form. The young girl wiped at it with the sleeve of her gown in circular motions. She watched through the clear circle she created. The way the wind caused the fog to billow from the forest, making it look like the mass of trees were breathing out the clouds from its belly. Darkened unnatural steam, flowing between bark covered teeth.
No wonder, those boys all that time ago, made up stories to scare Mal and her. Even Alina had to admit, there was something fundamentally different about those woods. Something different enough that even her, the doubting Tomas that she was, could be compelled to believe the folklore surrounding Keramzin orphanage, in the vast Ravkan Forest. The locals call it The Dark Forest, because of the unusual dark fog that surrounded it.
It had been five long, agonizing years since Mal was taken from her, and tonight marked the fifth. The anniversary of the day her rather bleak life, was plunged into full darkness. She placed a wiry hand against the dusty glass, allowing herself the feeling of the cold against her palm. She could still hear the footsteps of Mel running to tell her that he was about to be sent to the workforce. One of many boys to come, that would be sent away. He begged her to run away into the forest with him, to escape. She wanted to with all her heart, to run away with the warmth of his hand in hers.
She closed her eyes tight, seeing the look on his face as they edged the vast foggy forest behind the faltering large orphanage. She told him she couldn’t. That she was too scared. She was so young, and despite being brave enough to fight off the bully’s that plagued Mal, she couldn’t muster up enough courage to breach the woodlands before them. She bawled her hand into a fist against the glass, and thumped it lightly against it. Now, she's left with the guilt that she is the reason why he most likely will be working the mines for the rest of his life.
“Mel..” She murmured under her breath to the boy that was lost and to herself. “I’m so sorry.”
She was only eleven, she couldn’t help anyone. Not herself or Mal, but she still placed the blame squarely on herself. She alone was the reason Mal was gone. Sure, it was the orphanage that couldn’t afford to keep Mal and the others fed, but it was her that didn’t have the strength to save him from the fate of hard labor for the rest of his life. She knew that he couldn’t run away without her, he was much meeker than she was. Yet, she was too weak, too pathetically scared.
How would things have turned out differently if I had run away with him?
That question haunts her, day in and day out. Would she be living in a cabin in the woods, hunting deer and gathering berries in simple bliss? Or maybe, make it out of the woods on the other side and be wandering the world with Mal by her side. She will never know, because of her blasted cowardice. She failed him, when he truly needed her the most.
Alina let a few stray tears fall from her doe like brown eyes, for the first time in a long time, she let herself cry for Mal, on the anniversary of her failure. She turned and walked her way back to her cot in the corner and curled herself into the useless blanket, as she tried her best to sleep to take her away from her thoughts.
🌜🌞🌛
Alina awoke to the sound of little tips and taps of scuttering feet. In rhythm to muffled childish laughter. She groaned, tired and sore, as she squinted one eye open, to see two of the young girls beside her. She rolled to her side, staying still as she took time to will herself out of the warm embrase of her worn mattress. She wanted to glare at the unwelcome noise, before instantly softening.
Their just children, Alina..
A little girl with two red braids, no older than six years old, was brushing through another jittery girl with long brown hair. They giggled as the redhead weaved dark amber locks into two braids that matched her own. Smiling as they chatted about various things. Like, if they would be adopted today, and what their names would be if they had a chance to change them or if the mother would give them treats.
The new girls seem to be getting along well… I'm glad. I wish I woke up to this happiness more often.
Alina, though not a full adult, was old enough to know that she was way past the point of hoping to be adopted. Her chest squeezed at their hopeful words, wishing that she wasn't as cynical as she was now. Wishing that the two girls whispered prayers would be answered, despite the fact that she didn't dare wish for it herself. She could never be that hopeful about anything like a family, again.
Alina gave a half-hearted smile, still not fully awake. She did enjoy moments like this. A small glimpse of a normal childhood. The smiles of the younger girls were one of the few things, in this lifeless house, that made it bearable. It helped take her mind away from the darkness that lingers in these dreadful walls, and splintered wooden floors.
But, just as quickly as she was blessed with the moment, it was gone again.
Obliterated by the sharp click, clacking of heels that sent fear into the hearts of every child in the orphanage. But, for Alina, it just filled her with annoyance, that it was in fact the beginning of another frustrating day. Some of the girls, already springing into action around her. Including the sweet hearted girls, that now looked panicked as they scurried out of view. You would think that an alarm was blaring through the room, with the speed that some young women reacted to the small clicks and clacks.
The head mistress strolled in with her trusty ruler, cracking it against her hands a few times, placing emphasis on each cruel word. Yelling for the girls to line up. Alina groaned, dragging herself from her bed and threw the blanket away from her. Lazily walking to get in line with the other fifteen or so girls. They all ranged in ages from four to fifteen. She herself was one of 4 girls that were fifteen, well on their way to escape this prison, not that the world outside of these walls was any kinder.. But at least she’d have her freedom, and she wouldn’t have to endure the beatings anymore. Speaking of Which, Alina held out her palms flat in front of her, waiting for the enviable. She watched as the wrinkle faced, old bat smacked the palms of the first girl in line, the young girl yelped and ran off to wash her face and get dressed.
This was Mrs. Keramzin morning routine. She firmly believed that by hitting palms first thing in the morning, that the sting would prevent the girls from doing the devils handy work throughout the day. She was a gray haired woman, who tied it in a bun so tight behind her head that it pulled her forehead tight. But did nothing, for the wrinkles around her scowling frown, that she wore proudly. The woman walked with her back straight and her chin high, moving down the line, popping the palms of the little girl with the red braids. The child instantly started wailing as rage bubbled in Alina's chest, but she quickly squashed it, knowing that the little girl would have to learn eventually. Just as she had many years ago.
Though it didn't stop the hatred she felt, when the newer girls got hit for the first time. She knew that they would come to learn that this place was nothing more than a hole that unwanted children get thrown into. Not a place of growth, love or learning, that most orphanages should have been. Behind these white bricked walls, was a black pit. A deep dark emptiness, that clung
to your very bones, and reflected in every girl's sunken eyes. You just had to make eye contact long enough and you'd see it, the yearning emptiness in every girl that had spent more than a year here.
Mrs. Keramzin walked in front of Alina, before slapping the ruler down harder than the girl before, with a glare fixed behind thin readers. Alina was used to it, developing such calloused palms, that she barely winced at the biting metal ruler.
“That, Miss. Starkov is hopefully the only time I will have to do that today.” She snapped, as Alina resisted rolling her eyes. "Be mindful of your words, because you're one of the older girls. Remember, you must be an example for the younglings."
Yeah, an example of how to stay far the hell away from you… She thought, but didn't dare speak aloud.
The pissy woman always had it out for her, ever since the teen broke her 'treasured' vase. Technically Mal broke it, but Alina covered for him, because he was terrified of the old bat. Regardless, even though Mrs. Keramzin was an evil old hag, she wasn't the worst thing in this god forsaken place. Alina sighed with a nod, before scurrying off into the washroom with the other girls.
Wicked old bag of bones.
Alina thought as she rubbed her hands harshly against her gown. She waited for the girl before her to finish at the cumuninal sink. She was used to this kind of treatment. Yet, her hands still stung and her tempter still flared.
If Malyen could see her now, he would snicker and say that she hadn’t changed a bit, in all these years. He wouldn’t be right though, because she had changed.
She was getting older, but she was never growing . Only aging, slowly dying a little more everyday. Cells dividing and falling away, eating up little bits of DNA until nothing else remained. Alina wouldn't tell anyone, but deep down, she longed for it to run out, as soon as possible.
The girl before her finished up, drying her face, then strolled away. Leaving Alina to face the mirror, sighing at the woman she was becoming. Her thin face, framed by dark wavy hair, that only served to make her look even paler than she already knew she was, and round brownish gold eyes, lined by dark tired skin. She was thin and ghostly, with long lashes, and full red lips. She by all accounts was a woman, no longer a girl. But, without curved hips, or amble chest. She was flat by most accounts. Yet still a woman, and yet it felt hollow to her somehow.
She turned on the water and splashed her face, before turning away from the dirty, yellowish sink, back towards the room. She grabbed one of the only three dresses she owned and threw it on. It was a dark brown, long dress that flowed to her ankles, it had a scooped neckline that fell right above her collar bone with long stained brownish cream puffed sleeves that came to a tight cuff at her thin wrists. She buttoned the dress up as she watched more girls filter in from the bathroom.
She watched how the younger ones bounced to get dressed, not yet tainted full by this world. Unlike the older ones that merely dragged their feet like zombies. Most are only about twelve to thirteen, already tired by life at such a young age. She often wondered what most of these girls would be like if their parents hadn’t abandoned them by either choice or death.
Perhaps, they would be already married off or at some kind of ball dancing and eating, joyfully flirting with others of their age. Waiting for an eligible suitor to take them off of their parents hands, never knowing the full cruelty that this world has to offer. Alina shook her head at the silly thoughts, and folded her nightgown up neatly and packed it away into the bag that holds everything that she owns. It's small and torn like everything else, but it's hers and that’s all that mattered.
Alina followed the crowd as they began the familiar journey to the dining room, taking in her surroundings. The grayish brown floors, cracked brick walls, once painted white, but now stained a putrid yellow shade Windows that lined the long hall, so dusty that they painted the blue skies with a depressing sepia hue.
She dragged her fingers across the walls as she walked, till she was met with the same smell of porridge. That same horrible stench that she smelled every morning since she could remember. The scent is both off putting, and mouthwatering.
Despite how much Alina has grown to hate the watery mush, her hunger always over took her hatred. She sat alone at the end of the long brown table in the middle of the sunlit room. She never really made any new friends, after Mal. She was too preoccupied by her own sadness to try, and even if she did make new friends, it was pointless. The kids in this orphanage come and go like the wind. She alone has remained the longest, who wants a girl that looks half-dead anyway, let alone a girl of her age.
The cook made his rounds placing bowl after bowl in front of the girls, and a few young boys. There were much fewer boys now, than when she first arrived. Most of them are sent to the workforce around the age of twelve or so, if they aren’t adopted at that point, not much unlike Mal.
Alina watched as the food cart rattled, finally beside her, and the chief placed the slop in front of her. She frowned as the soupy liquid splashed slightly causing it to dirty the table it sat on.
I miss Marcus. She thought, glaring at the new younger male chef that always seemed in a bad mood. Marcus use to be the only good thing about this awful place. Sneaking her food, taking to her, even letting her draw in the kitchen to stay warm during the long winter. But just like Mal, he had faded away as well. Fired for sneaking the children bits of bread.
Sighing Alina grabbed her wooden spoon and without a second thought started shoving bite after bite into her mouth. Thankful to finally stop the rumbling in her hollow stomach, yet also trying her best not to focus on the lumpy, slimy texture.
Once done eating, the mousy brunette stood up and carried her bowl to the bin in the back of the room, where she felt a large hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, before turning around and looking at the strong, wrinkled face of Mr. Keramzin. Who is truly the worst thing about the Keramzin orphanage.
“Sir.” Alina said with a curve of curiosity and fear. Mr. Keramzin was so rarely around, these past months that was a bit surprising. He'd been leaving his wife to do most of the child rendering, not much different from most husbands, but he did have his way of making a show that he was in fact the one in charge anytime there were new parents looking for a child, or other random visitors.
“Alina, I have matters in which I would like to discuss with you in my office.” Mr. Keramzin’s serious tone wasn’t unusual for him, but something about his milky green eyes made her nervous, like something was truly wrong. She nodded slowly and wiped her sweaty palms on her frumpy brown dress, as she followed in a daze behind.
Mr. Keramzin was the worst, not because he was strict all the time, or filled with rage like his wife. But because of how unpredictable he was. One moment he was giving you a sweet and telling you not to tell his wife, and the next, he was gripping your hair and slamming your head repeatedly against a wall for daring to trip into his path. Alina unconsciously traced the subtle dent at her hairline, where the stitches were only two years ago. She had knocked the coffee he was holding down his shirt, and learned a new lesson. To walk very very slowly in the halls.
Always.
In a way she was just grateful that it was physical violence instead of something else. One girl who transferred here from another orphanage, once told her that the headmaster there, fancied the younger girls. So, she knew that she could have it much worse, yet it never helped ease the ache in her chest.
She went over all the possible things that she could have done to cause a rare conversation with the head of the orphanage. She stole bread from the pantry a few weeks back, but she was already beaten rather restlessly for that, earning her a pretty display of tiger stripes on her back. She is just glad that she was never one to scar, and heals unusually quickly. And, even then, he didn't feel the need to talk to her…
Why talk, when a fist can say all that you need it to .
Perhaps, it was for not showing up for parents day.. That couldn’t be it, they had never cared before whether or not I had greeted the parents. Not like anyone would actually be adopting me at fifteen, almost sixteen in a month or so.
Alina was yanked from her thoughts, almost bumping into the back of Mr. Keramzin. Thankfully she caught herself on her toes. Once inside the office, she stood at the door, as the older man gestured for her to take a seat in one of the olive green leather seats. She smoothed her dress down, before awkwardly twiddling her thumbs waiting for him to speak.
He cleared his throat, before picking up a piece of paper, then sighing and placing it back down again, clearly checking over some kind of information.
“Mrs. Starkov, I regret to inform you that starting tomorrow, state law dictates that no child can remain in an orphanage past the age of 16. So, as we are terribly sorry for this, but we will be making a few changes at Keramzin Orphanage.” He stated not sounding apologetic in the least, rubbing the bridge of his nose. As if this was some issue that he had to clear up, not the fact that he destroyed a young girl's life for the second time.
Alina blinked up at him, wide eyed and slack jawed.
What was this going to mean for me, for the other four girls that turned 16 this year, or the other two that just.. What about them?
“So.. You’re just kicking us out.. Just simply washing your hands of us? That’s it?” Alina scoffed at the flippancy of the statement. "I am allowed to leave?"
He wasn’t sorry, he was annoyed that he had to inform us, that’s all. But, does that mean I can finally be free? An inkling of hope, futtered it's way to her chest at the thought.
“Well, not exactly." The older man waned, a flicker of shame finally shining behind his milky eyes.
And there my hope goes… Out the damn window… Of course, why would this be any different than any other time.
She leaned forward in her leather seat, eyeing the books that lined the walls behind him. Wishing she could escape into their foxing pages, just to get away from this whole conversation. To escape her life, for just a moment and revel in daydreams of distant lands, distant lives. To be a different person altogether.
"The law also states that we have a right to do with you how we see fit, in order to facilitate your futures. So, due to the fact that we will no longer receive state benefits for the addental 6 girls, a business in town has… offered a large donation for the girls that have come of age.” He pauses before saying donation knowing full and well how it came across. His real motives are on full display to the helpless girl in front of him.
Alina clinched her jaw, they were selling them. She didn’t even have to ask what kind of business, because she knew. It was the whore house. That she was certain. She was not dumb nor blessed enough to be naive. She may know nothing about men or the process of sex, but she knew that Mrs. Keramzin used to threaten them with ending up in a brothel, if they didn't act right.
“Are we cattle?” She bit out, no longer caring about repercussions. She was to be sold , none of it mattered now. Here, she had waited in this god forsaken place in hopes that Melyen would find his way back to her, just for her to be bargained off to the highest bidder.
“Are we really nothing more than a paycheck for you?” Alina asked the question, despite already knowing the answer.
“Alina… You know the orphanage isn’t doing as well as it once was.. You are old enough to understand that by now, aren’t you?” He clasped his ringed fingers together, and placed them on the desk, incredulously. Each sun spotted, boney knuckle covered in sparkling stones and gold.
“Oh, I know better than anyone.. Are the boys you sold off not filling your pockets enough? Or the hair of the girls that you shaved the heads of last year? Or the clothing we sow? Is nothing out of the question as long as it feeds your greed?” Alina finally stood, anger flushing her pale cheeks. She shouldn’t be surprised, yet it didn’t quell the hatred that she had in her heart. "What next? You're going to start blaming the horses for making you gamble your coin away?!"
SMACK
He had flown out of his seat and swiftly backhanded her hard with a loud smack filling the room. She didn't have time to react, let alone dogde.
"How dare you!" He billowed, as Alina froze, face still turned away, before slowly reaching up and touching her lip where Mr. Keramzin’s gold ring had caught the soft flesh of her bottom lip. She winced, as she looked at her fingers seeing warm scarlet coating them. The cut instantly stinging like fire, at the realization of blood.
“You insolent child, you will shut your mouth and do what is asked of you. If anyone else wanted you, you would not be here to begin with. You would do well to remember that, Miss. Starkov, before you think in some way I have mistreated you. We’ve done our duty to keep you fed, and alive. Now leave.” He growled, taking a kerchief from his jacket pocket, and wiping his hand of the tiniest bit of blood from the green gem that sat on the gold band.
“Oh and tell the other girls that I will need to speak to them as well.” He mumbled sitting back at his desk, his anger slipping away to a simple annoyance.
Alina’s heart raced and mind fumbled, curls and bends, as she slowly started to turn towards the door. "Yes of course.." She whispered dumbly. Unable to fully focus enough to respond more than that as she opens the door, slipping out. Her vision, blurry with tears that refuse to fall. She breathed slowly, as she slumped against the large door.
In out. In out. In out. Repeat.
Now, think Alina, think. What are you going to do now?
Once she started to process what really happened, she straightened her back and pushed off. Walking into the girls room, pausing at the entrance seeing the girls around her age already slaving away at the bonnets they sowed, day in and day out.
One of the girls whose heads were shaved last year looked up at Alina. The older girl frowned slightly. She couldn’t recall her name, but she knew she was looking at her bleeding lip. Alina quickly wiped it clean, and gave her a weak smile, not wanting her to worry.
Alina looked at her feet studying her torn leather clogs, as she begins her descent to the girl that was just looking at her. Once, beside the girl, Alina pauses looking past her, out the window at the forest. Her mind finally cleared.
“Please, tell anyone 15 and above, that Mr. Keramzin said that we can no longer stay. We're all being sold..” Alina whispers, before she continues walking back to where her bed was, and picks up the bonnet that she started working on yesterday. She ignored the sound of muffled whispers as the information started to spiral around the orphanage. She sowed stitch by meticulous stitch, completely mindless. As a few girls began to cry, the sound made her hands shake with rage, but kept stitching.
Alina wasn't a cryer, but she could feel a lump forming in her throat and prickles behind her eyes. She hissed as she pricked her finger, then tossed the round thin wood against the wall. A crowd gasped as it clanked against the floor, breaking apart. She ignored the worried glances, as she curled her legs into her chest.
I need a plan…
Mel was never coming back, he would have by now if it was his plan. Mr. Keramzin’s words bounced around in her head. ‘if anyone wanted you, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.’
He was right, of course. There is a chance that Alina’s parents didn’t die, they could have abandoned her, and even if they didn’t, none of her external family ever claimed her. She was kidding herself thinking that Mel would be any different.. She has been fantasizing about his return for years and it’s time to grow up.
Alina’s eyes start to drift to the book beside her. ‘Folk Lore of Ravka.’ She paused, before pulling the book from half way under her blanket. She cracked it open, bending the red frayed spine to her favorite story.
She glanced around once more, making sure the head mistress was not in sight to complain about her no longer being hard at work, before drawing her brown eyes back to the foxing page. She was going to get a ruler smack regardless, for breaking another wooden hoop.
‘In the woods of Ravka, deep in the heart of the dark forest, lives a dark sorcerer. A man that creates darkness from his very fingertips, and blinds those unlucky enough to stumble upon his traps. He lurks in the fog and waits for those lost souls to feed upon the light of their souls, till there is nothing but the hollow. He’s called The Darkling. Beware of the woods young girls. For you are his favorite meal.’
Mel used to read this story to her, it continues to talk about a girl who goes into the woods looking for her grandmother, before being devoured whole by the darkness, never to return again. She used to have nightmares about this ‘Darkling,’ but now her nightmares are filled with Mel and she had long forgotten the stories. Other than the regret of her eleven year old self’s cowardice, because of this story, she hadn't thought about The Darkling for years. She closed the book with a thud, she’s made up her mind.
She was going to correct that regret tonight, she's no longer scared of the darkness, there is no such thing as monsters. She will prove it to herself, when she escapes into the Ravka forest. Tonight.
🌜🌞🌛
Once, night had begun to fall on the orphanage and the last candle had been blown out, Alina laid in her bed. Waiting to hear the last sound of the movement, till there was nothing but a symphony of sleeping breaths coming from the girls around her. Clenching the book of Folk Tales tightly to her chest, as it rose and fell. She thought back, to the expression on the girls' faces, when the older ones had come back from that same awful office that she had walked into that morning. One by one, looking scared and lonely. She understood those feelings all too well. She wasn’t going to be like Malyen, she wasn’t going to be sold.
Riding that feeling of determination, she slipped out from under her covers still in her nightgown, she grasped her blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She picked up her already packed, green duffle bag, placing the book inside along with her sketchbook and diary. The only three things that were truly her's. Her entire life, fitting in one patchy army green bag.
She stepped into her same beat up clogs, as she started to slither around the sleeping girls, taking in the sight of each one of youngling’s innocent faces. She envied their innocents, but also felt guilty knowing it would be gone, soon enough. That she would be gone along with it. Apart of her wished that she could take them with her, yet she knew that if she did, she'd be robbing them of the chance for adoption. A chance at having the one thing that they all had in common.
The longing for a family, to belong to someone. To call a house, a home . To be with those that loved them. She couldn't take that away, even if she wanted to be their hero. She was just a scared girl. She didn't feel like a woman, despite the state deeming her as one.
She turned away and shook off the growing feeling of dread. She pressed on outside of the room and down the hall. Quiet as a mouse, even slipping off her shoes, allowing her to tip toe, as she held them from her hand.
She was almost in the front corridor, when she heard the rattling of keys and froze, quickly gluing herself to the nearest wall, peeking around the corner into the Fourier. Noticing the Head Mistress pacing outside of her husband’s office as Alina narrows her golden eyes struggling to peer through the darkness.
Guess, I’m not the only one that sneaks around at night.. Alina thought cheekily as she waited quietly, until Mrs. Keramzin finally worked up the nerve to break into her husband's office. The old woman clicked the door behind her, sounding loud enough to break glass, compared to the dead silent night.
Alina sprang into action at her chance. She bolted from the door, like a bullet shot from the barrel of a gun, sprinting straight for the woods, before good sense came crawling back.
The moon light, causing the low hanging clouds to glisten like magic, in the night air. Before pausing, turning around for one more final look at the closest thing she had ever called home. Lingering no longer than a few breaths.
Then, without another glance, she made her get away, slipping her shoes back on, almost tripping in the process. The second, the cold fog hit her face, she could taste the freedom. It was the flavor of pine, seasalt and sweet blissful irony. The same woods that hindered her as a child, will now save her. Keeping her hidden behind its thick dark gray fog.
In her haste, she didn’t notice that something was very different about tonight. Because, tonight it wasn’t fog she was walking into, but black mist, that curled under moonbeams like smoke. Little to Alina’s knowledge, she was walking right into his trap.