Chapter Text
Aleksander’s latest alias has been dead for three months when he reinvents himself.
He has no name. He lets almost no one see his face.
But he whispers to people, and they in turn whisper to others, and those people whisper further afield, until the whole of Ravka knows that the Cult of Sol Koroleva is searching for the Sun Summoner.
People flock to join his cause.
Religious devotees of the prophesised Sun Saint. Disaffected serfs searching for hope. Ambitious younger sons looking for glory with the discovery of the mythological Sun Summoner. Deserting First Army soldiers trying to find a truer cause to fight for than the tsar’s endless wars.
And leading them all from the shadows is Aleksander.
He does not care about their petty concerns or their reasons for joining. He cares about finding the Sun Summoner, and about using the decade or so before he returns as a new Darkling to ensure that everything is in place so that the moment the Sun Summoner is discovered – be it a year or a century from now – they will be brought straight to him and he will have a devoted following ready to assist him in overthrowing the tsar to usher in the age of the Grisha.
He expects the imposters. Otkazat’sya using mirrors and tricks. Inferni trying to pass off their Small Science as something else, his own Grisha attempting to trick him because they want to reach too high.
He destroys them all, without hesitation, his shadows choking them and revealing in their last moments who they have been foolish enough to try and lie to. He will not tolerate frauds, not when it comes to a matter of the greatest importance to him.
He soon hears of the fury of the tsar at the rise of his cult.
The tsar is weak and unpopular, after all. He knows that a Sun Summoner in his power could keep his rule safe and secure. He does not want to risk such a power falling into the hands of others.
Aleksander knows the tsar will seek to destroy him and the organisation he has built, but he is not afraid. He has walked the earth for over four centuries, and the tsar does not frighten him.
They remain on the move, always one step ahead of the tsar’s soldiers.
If anyone catches up, his shadows are more than enough to deal with them. And if he has to dispose of those who have witnessed his Small Science, even some loyal to him – for it would not do for news of a Shadow Summoner to spread right now – then that is a sacrifice he is willing to make.
Five years pass before Ivan, the only one of his acolytes aware of his true identity and thus his trusted second, brings him what he has been waiting for.
A frail young woman, clearly suffering from the Wasting Sickness.
“I was on a skiff with her when some idiot lit a lamp and the volcra attacked. She started to glow, but I knew the light might be seen so I knocked her unconscious and brought her here.”
“They’re dead,” the girl whimpers, unsteady on her feet, “they’re all dead.”
“I had to leave the skiff,” Ivan reports, “they’ll have given it up for volcra fodder by now. We’re lucky that we weren’t far into the journey so I could get us out in one piece.”
His second has a nasty new gash on his right cheek and, from the way he winces every now and then, probably other injuries. But Ivan takes his duty and his mission seriously, and he has succeeded where all others have failed Aleksander.
“What’s your name?” he asks the girl as she is nudged forward by Ivan.
“A-Alina,” she stutters out.
He doesn’t need to check with Ivan to know her heart is racing with fear. She’s terrified, poor thing.
And he doesn’t want that, not from her.
This has all been for her.
“Go and see the Healer, Ivan,” he dismisses his second, “and don’t worry about reporting tomorrow – you’ve earned a rest.”
The Heartrender leaves Aleksander alone with trembling Alina.
He tugs off his hood, revealing his face to her. It’s a risk, really – if she isn’t who Ivan believes she is then he won’t be able to let her live, having seen his face – but he has a good feeling about her.
“Let me have your arm,” he says, soft and gentle, the way he speaks when he’s trying to calm a spooked horse.
She hesitates, but eventually holds out an arm.
He knows the moment his fingers wrap around her bony wrist.
It’s hidden deep down, suppressed for years, but the power is there.
He goes slowly, his thumb rubbing circles on her bare skin to relax her and coax the light out.
And he is rewarded a few minutes later when she begins to glow.
“Oh,” she gasps in wonder
“I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Alina,” he smiles down at her, tugging her close, smugly pleased by the hitch in her breath at their close proximity.
His search is finally over. Together, he and Alina are going to change the world.