Chapter Text
Lumina Morozova wandered life as a young Grisha.
She was orphaned at a young age, raised in an orphanage ever since she learned how to walk. She was shunned by the other kids in the orphanage, bullied for her different facial features, bullied for her lack of growth and smaller stature. At age five, Lumina discovered her Heartrending abilities.
It had been an accident.
She had been cornered that day, cowardly trembling in a corner where the other, older kids stood in front of her, a group of three boys and two girls wickedly grinning down on a small five year old, who bore dark eyes and dark hair, long and luxurious that was a stark contrast towards her paler skin. Some of the caretakers turned a blind eye — their job was to make sure that she had clothes on her, a roof over her head and some food in front of her. They couldn’t care less if she was bullied or injured, as long as she was still alive as they put her to bed at night.
They laid hands on her. Stuck scars to her skin, bruises to her body, cuts to her wrist. A group of five ten year old kids at an age where they were supposed to be joyful and enjoying life, no matter how hard it was. And yet, they were cruel enough to inflict pain on a younger kid, satisfied with the torture they had put her through, and justifying their abuse by saying that she didn’t belong, or that no one liked her and her parents abandoned her, so what was the point of even being alive?
Ironic.
Lumina had gripped onto one of the girls’ wrists, making a feeble attempt of fighting back while filled with a rage that couldn’t be contained in a small girl’s body. In a blink of an eye, she watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she crumbled, falling to the ground with a thud. The rest of the kids screamed and scattered, and Lumina, who was smarter than she was shocked, quickly let go of her wrist and scurried back into the corner, hugging her knees to her chest and heaving tears of pain that streaked down her skin, burning her wounds.
The girl had just passed out, and woke up a few seconds later screaming and crying while a caretaker consoled her. She never touched Lumina again, but the incident gave everyone more of a reason to bully her.
At age ten, she was fascinated by the shadows that danced around her fingers whenever she called them to will. She would escape the orphanage and walk down to the nearby river, sitting at the edge for hours at a time, her attention enraptured by her newfound shadows. Honing both of her abilities at once allowed her to escape away from the kids at the orphanage, and the caretakers didn’t say a word as long as she was there when it was time for bed.
When she was eleven, she knew that they would start coming around to check the kids in the orphanages, seeing if their powers were detectable, or if they had powers at all. She had watched people come and take kids away, some with burning pieces of clothes, some after a huge gust of wind that rushed through the house.
She has heard of the Little Palace. A Grisha sanctuary in Ravka, where the walls protect them from hunters, where the walls protected them from having to live in hiding, from having to erase their traces whenever they went, from having to constantly look over their shoulder. They trained members of the Second Army, run by General Kirigan — the Darkling.
Lumina was young. She may not know much, but she knew enough.
She knew that having the ability to wield two powers simultaneously was rare. All the Grisha stories only talked about brave Squallers or courageous Tidemakers, and she had never seen a story where they talked about Grishas being dually powered. She knew that her abilities to control and summon shadows weren’t something normal that Grishas would have as their powers — they had Heartrenders, Tailors, Healers, Squallers, Tidemakers, Durasts, Infernis, and Alkemis, but never the sun and never the shadows.
She knew that General Kirigan, the Darkling, was a descendent of Morozova, the Black Heretic. She also knew that Grisha powers are mainly inherited by bloodlines, and in that case, she knew that the General had to be related to her in some way.
Either way, she has a slightly better chance of a better life outside of this orphanage, and in the walls of the Little Palace.
“ Lumina.”
She picked her head up. The scrawny, small and bruised eleven year old found one of her caretakers, Mila, calling her over after one of the kids walked out of the room, dejected that he didn’t have ‘cool powers’. Lumina picked herself off of the chair, and limped over to where the woman was directing her to, ignoring the whispers and snickers that followed behind her.
“ This way, child.”
The door opened in front of them, and Lumina followed her into the small room. The door shut behind them, and she glanced around the room, her hands clutching the small outfit that she was wearing.
There was a table in the middle of the room. Three people sat there, one wearing red clothing and two wearing blue. There was another person with a red coat standing by the side, holding what she believed was supposed to inflict a little bit of pain on her to trigger her abilities. Then, in the corner, was a tall man, dressed in all black and gold.
“ General Kirigan.” Mila spoke up. Lumina glanced up at the older woman, who barely paid her a glance, before turning her attention back to the people in front of her. “ Here’s the girl you asked for.”
Kirigan? That’s the Darkling.
The man in the corner, who she now recognised as General Kirigan, stood up straighter. Her eyes met his gaze, and instead of seeing chills running down her spine, Lumina felt her shoulder drop and, for some unknown reason, she allowed her guard to drop for the first time, for as long as she could remember.
“ Everyone,” General Kirigan spoke up. He takes a step forward. “ Out.”
There’s a sudden stillness in the air. Everyone turns to look at the General, wide eyed and surprised, yet he never breaks his gaze away from Lumina, who unconsciously rubbed at the bruised skin of her hands. One of the other Grishas — one of the ones in Blue — stood up and questioned the General, who spared him a small glance.
“ But, General, we need to—”
“ I said, out.” He repeated. “ All of you. Out.”
There’s another second of silence. The Grishas gave each other a questioning glance before, one by one, shuffled out and left the room. Mila followed, shutting the door softly behind her as she exited, and left Lumina inside alone with the General, who walked to the front of the table and slightly leaned on it, his arms crossing in front of his chest.
“ Show me.” He said, softly. His voice, though rather monotone and cold, didn’t hold the same harsh tone that he had used to the adults earlier. “ Both of them.”