horology | the darkling

sankta seraphina

paint it black - ciara

i look inside myself
and see my heart is black

-

'we make our own monsters and fear them for what they show us about ourselves' - mike carey

/

seraphina

It was easier than Seraphina expected to meet with the Lantsov king. The white washed walls of the Palace hummed with life today; or maybe the air was just a little sweeter with the black veins coursing through Seraphina's body. She felt like she was floating, feet barely touching the floor as she glided through the hallways. Her golden black kefta swung in the light breeze of the morning, red emblem sparkling like blood in the rising sun. Genya had hastily done her hair, glistening onyx braids circling her head like a dark crown. The red haired Tailor refused to look Seraphina in the eyes, bustling around her with the array of rose coloured brushes and exquisite golden eye shadow but at the same time, completely avoiding her. Genya was civil enough to keep a conversation going but every time Seraphina caught the girl looking at her in the reflection of the mirror, there would be this look on her face; a horrified morbid interest. Seraphina had seen it many times before; whenever she said she was discovered in a battlefield, people would give her the same look. Fascination but terrified like looking at a corpse. Seraphina felt like an animated corpse.

The black ooze inside her veins hummed into life as she trod down the marble stairs into the courtyard. Sounds echoed off the hollow quad and rebounded, creating a strange unnerving illusion of rumbling thunder. Everywhere, Grisha either talk, trained or scheme to destroy the lives of one of their friends. A typical day in the Little Palace, it would seem. A Heartrender and an Inferni started at her as she graced past; she could sense the disdain in their gazes. She could hear them whispering, very quietly, but it was there. It was her, they said, that corrupted the General. They had never been more right.

The Time Turner reached the entrance to the King's personal office soon after, fanning herself with her pearl feather. She noticed a spot of black on it that wasn't there before. She flicked it but it didn't disappear; it lingered like a wound, festering itself. She was interrupted from her thoughts by a Durast, cloaked in purple and grey. He blocked her path, seemingly huge against her slender frame. He must have been the King's guard. The scowl on his face was contrasted by the amused smirk on hers. The girl stepped back, eyes never leaving the golden plated door.

'I seek an audience with the tsar.'

The Durast's face twitched into something of a smile.

'Seraphina Vessensky.'

His voice was coarse as if it hadn't been used in years.

'You know my name.'

Of course he had. With the rumours that surrounded her and the General as well as her inauguration, it was impossible for him not to have.

'I'd be a fool if I didn't. I admire your ambition, girl. The way you stood up for yourself in the King's court, that takes courage. He has had people killed for much less.'

Seraphina's mind was screaming. She wanted to turn back. Beads of sweat were forming on her hands. Seraphina scrunched them into fists.

'If you know me, you know why I seek an audience. The Shu Hans have been getting stronger, I need to discuss a strategy with the King.'

Lies. The Shus were getting closer, yes, but that wasn't why she was here. The voices inside her mind waged war on each other. She wanted to turn back. But the black veins inside her were controlling her, twisting her words.