TW: Bl00d, g0re, racism, h0m0phobia, coarse language

It took hours for Roche to stop screaming. Her throat was dry, all of her spit absorbed by Tigris' gag. Her skin was slick with sweat as she weakly heaved her weight against her bonds for the millionth time.

It had been hours since Tigris had left her tied in her chambers. It had been hours since she'd heard any noise from the courtyard. The last of the army had left. Only the healers and the knights who would be guarding them were left behind.

Roche sagged, her eyes aching. She would have cried if she had any tears left. She reached for her inkblood again, desperately hoping that something would answer her. There was nothing that answered her summons, nothing to free her or save her queen.

The doors to Tigris' chambers burst open.

"And there she is," Aodh said dryly, rehooking his keys onto his belt. He met Roche's eyes emotionlessly as Verita and Leinos rushed in, gasping at the sight of her tied up.

"Roche!" Verita murmured, scrambling to the Ala's side. Roche waited patiently for the librarian to unknot the bonds on her hands and feet while Leinos worked on the knots of her gag. The moment the spit soaked rag was lowered from her mouth, she lifted her gaze to meet Aodh's cold eyes.

"Is she gone?" Roche demanded.

His lips thinned. "Yes," he replied flatly. For a moment, he looked as cold and empty as his father, like he was a man with nothing left to lose. He tilted his head at her. "She asked me to promise not to let you follow her."

"That idiotic royal brat!" Roche groaned, rubbing her chafed wrists. Leinos and Verita quietly moved to the side as she stalked up to the motionless prince. "And you! How could you agree to this? I should be with her, protecting her-"

"You have no inkblood!" Aodh bellowed, so suddenly that Roche actually flinched. His eyes blazed with heat suddenly as he jabbed a finger at her. "You can't protect her any more than I can now. So stop being stupid before this kingdom loses you too!"

Roche blinked at him, her shock fading away. "You know what, Prince Aodh? It kind of sounds like you care."

"Don't flatter yourself," Aodh snorted, his eyes hardening, "I wouldn't have had to do this if you weren't an idiot who stopped to think every once in a while."

"I'm not-"

"Well?" he interrupted, arching his brow, "Have you done it?"

"Done what?" Roche asked when he didn't say anything else.

"Cooled down from your panic and found a way to save my sister," Aodh explained slowly, like she was a fool. When she blinked at him in surprise, he rolled his eyes. "I can tie you up again if you need a few more minutes."

Roche stumbled away from him reflexively in case he made good on his threat. "No! I have a plan!" she replied quickly.

Aodh scowled. "If it's something stupid like running after her-"

"No," Roche interrupted. When he arched a brow disbelievingly, she added, "I swear. Really, I have a plan."

And she did. Being bound in Tigris' chambers gave her time to actually think through the cloud of panic in her mind.

Roche straightened, sweeping her gaze towards the anticipating trio in the queen's chambers.

"I," Roche announced grandly, "Am going to get inkblood."

Aodh and the castle elders blinked at her in stunned silence. Then Aodh snorted loudly, grabbing Tigris' discarded nightgown.

"I'm tying you up again," he muttered, stepping towards her, "You already tried that!"

Irritation flared within Roche. She dodged his grab and hid behind Verita, who huffed at the childish interaction.

"I'm not talking about meditating or trying to regain my inkblood," Roche explained, glancing at Verita to see if her guardian understood the implication of her words. When she didn't see any recognition, she added, "I'm going to get new inkblood. I'll inject as much as I need, just like the librarians do."

Aodh faltered, dropping Tigris' gown. A small smile of relief stretched across his face at the seemingly viable plan.

Verita and Leinos didn't look nearly as convinced.

"Your strength as the Ala came from a very large amount of inkblood, Roche," Verita informed her gravely, "The covens won't have that much on hand. It'll take you far too long to collect enough inkblood to wield your inkblood like you used to."

"I know," Roche replied, heaving a breath. Her fingers tingled as blood rushed through her limbs freely, "But I know somewhere where there is enough inkblood. Remember the library of Eolna?"

The name was like a shadow cast over the room, drawing them all into somber silence. It had taken ages for Roche to remember the place where Finn had received his visions and where she had proven the value of her heart to the royal family. Roche didn't dwell on the memories of her journey there to get the object of power that had ended the plague in Irulia and the Faultless Kingdom. Instead, she focused on the memory of a sea of inkblood lying beneath the stones of the former library.

Verita's brow furrowed with worry. "Roche, that place is a sanctuary for inkbloods. It is as sacred as the omphalos was. Inkblood is not meant to be taken from that place, and any inkblood that exists there is not accessible to you."

Roche bit her lip. She had similar concerns. "I'll need to ask the librarian spirits guarding the place to aid me," she answered. No one looked convinced by the answer. Even Roche didn't feel sure about the plan. But they had no other choice. She sighed and added, "Look, it's the only place with enough inkblood to replace what I've lost. If I can regain enough to return to my former strength, I'll be able to protect Tigris."

Leinos looked at her pityingly. "Roche, the prophecy-"

"I don't care about the prophecy!" Roche replied fiercely, "I care about Tigris! I'm not leaving her on her own to die."

Leinos and Verita looked unconvinced, but Aodh nodded in agreement. He glanced out the window.

"It took us a day and a half to get there after getting raided by the bandits. If you're lucky, you might be able to make it in a day," Aodh muttered, rubbing his chin, "You won't have enough time to get to Moiris."

"Ah, but it won't take me a day to get to the library of Eolna," Roche answered cheerfully, grinning at the prince, "I have a faster ride!"

-------

"For the last time. I am not a horse, Ala!"

Roche sighed, rubbing her temples. It was strange to have Circe's voice rattling around her head instead of thrumming through her inkblood. She clenched her jaw against the sensation as Aodh frowned at her.

"I thought you said you had a ride," he grumbled, gazing at the Striga with distaste, "Can we count on them or not?"

"You can," Roche sighed, "Circe just likes us to know where their boundaries lie. But if the Fyra's life is in danger, I know they'll be willing to help. Won't you, Circe?"

The Striga ruffled their feathers, their eyes glowing intently in the tunnels. The large bird shifted on their feet. "Don't be clever, Ala."

"It's my specialty," Roche replied smugly as she turned to Aodh. Her mirth faded as he nodded at her curtly.

"I suppose you'll need to go now if you're to make it to Moiris on time," he grunted, looking away. His jaw tightened, barely visible in the darkness. Roche nodded and he swallowed, reaching for his weapons belt. "Here. Take this." he muttered gruffly, holding something out.

It took Roche a few moments to identify the object in the darkness. It was thin and slender, gleaming metallic silver. The handle was worn and used, the barrel slightly warped. It was clearly a well loved pistol. Roche recognised it from years of polishing in the armoury.

"This is your favourite firearm," she murmured in wonder, "I couldn't possibly-"

"Take. It." Aodh gritted out, shoving it into her hands. "You'll get all the inkblood you need to protect my sister, but Tigris was right about one thing. You need to protect yourself too. This kingdom needs you as well."

Roche blinked, her eyes watering. Those were the kindest words the stony prince had ever said to her.

"Thank you, Prince Aodh," Roche swallowed, hesitating before adding, "You've grown to be a man worthy of your title. I am in your debt."

Aodh dipped his head, his lips quirking. Then he ruffled her hair and shoved her towards Circe. "Get Tigris out of this alive and we'll be even."

"You have my word," Roche replied, mounting Circe's back with a few handfuls of tugged feathers that made the Striga tut. "Give Verita and Leinos my love."

Aodh promised that he would. She would have told them herself if they had been there, but Leinos had been called to depart with the healers, and Verita was going to assist him. Aodh was the only one left in the castle to watch Roche leave.

"Good luck, Ala," Aodh told her.

With that, Circe emitted a high pitched shriek, and the tunnel opened with a thunderous screech. Dust and stone showered them all as light sliced into the dark tunnel, cutting into Roche's corneas painfully. She blinked back instinctive tears as Circe's wings flared open. She barely had time to grab onto the Striga's feathers before the bird was shooting out of the darkness and into the light.

-------

It took only a few hours of flying the inkblooded Striga to reach a familiar glade. Ash still littered the ground from the fires Roche had sparked during her fight with Lady Ismere. She avoided glancing at the half rotted corpse with a gaping hole in its chest as she slid off Circe's back.

"Thank you for this," Roche said aloud as she turned towards the tunnel she'd entered once, long ago.

"Ala," Circe's voice was rife with concern, "The Fyra will meet her end at Moiris. There is nothing you can do to stop it."

"I know," the words were bitter on Roche's tongue, but she forced herself to meet Circe's intense gaze, "Yet I will never forgive myself if I don't try. She is more than the Fyra to me. She is a friend. She is my queen. And I'm certain that even if she dies... there will be a way for her to return."

The Striga reared back, flapping their wings in horror. "That is a dark enchantment, Ala. The dead are never the same when they return."

"I know," Roche repeated. She had seen as much when she'd read about the enchantment in her spellbook. "But maybe the librarians here will know of an enchantment that will avoid that."

Circe was quiet for a moment. Then they somberly murmured, "The price for such an enchantment will be a life, Ala."

"I know."

A heavy silence dawned on the glade. Roche sucked in a steadying breath, holding the last Striga's eyes. "It has been an honour, old friend. Thank you for your help."

Circe clicked their beak like there were a million more things they wanted to share. But the last Striga had not lived as long as they had without knowing a goodbye when they saw one. Circe blinked, long and slow. Their flaming eyes glowed brightly.

"I shall stay until you exit the library. You will need me to get to Moiris in time," Circe announced.

Roche shook her head. "No. It's dangerous for you out here. The uska still roam and you may be spotted. If Finn gets word that a Striga still lives, he will come for you. Return to the castle. I will call you here when I can."

When the ink had returned to her veins, she would be able to call the Striga back to her.

Circe nodded solemnly. "Good luck, Ala." With that, the Striga took to the air, blurring through the cloudy skies with impossible speed. Roche turned her attention to the dark tunnel before her. She heaved a breath, anxiety knotting her frame. She walked towards the tunnel, the darkness reaching for her. She paused for a moment by Ismere's rotted corpse.

Her first kill.

She didn't regret it now.

With the somber thought, Roche entered the tunnel.

-------

It was darker than Roche remembered. She had no torch with her and no inkblood left to light a fire. All she could do was let the shadows crowd around her, chafing against her as she trudged deeper into the never ending tunnel.

"Hello?" she called, "I seek an audience with the librarians of the Library of Eolna!"

"You are not permitted on these sacred grounds," an unfamiliar voice boomed in her ears, so loud that the ground trembled beneath Roche's feet. The sconces on the walls lit up with an eerie, translucent blue, lighting the way back out. "Leave now, and you will leave with your life."

Roche swallowed back a thrill of fear and straightened, careful to keep her face neutral. "I was allowed onto these grounds once. I seek sanctuary again."

"Ink does not run through your veins," the disembodied voice snapped furiously, "You were not permitted here and will not be today."

Roche's jaw clenched. She didn't have time for this. "I am the Ala. I was born with ink in my veins and it was taken from me. I came here with the Fyra many years ago to save the people of this land, and I seek to do so again. Now, I ask you again, permit me entrance into this sanctuary!"

The air chilled instantly. "How dare you lie about such a sacred title?" the voice seethed, "I do not sense ink within you-"

"Wait!" another voice cut in. This one was familiar, a haunting and ghostly female whisper that Roche instantly recognised as the librarian spirit who had met with her during her quest with Tigris all those years ago. Finna's voice sliced through the air, quieting her sister librarian. "She does not lie. That is the Ala!"

The other voice hesitated. "Finna, are you sure?"

"It's her," Finna insisted, "Let her in."

The air stirred. Roche closed her eyes, her breath flooding out of her in a rush against her will. When she opened her eyes, the ground was no longer uneven against her feet, and she was standing in a circular room lit by bluish sconces. A round table sat in the middle of the room with many high backed chairs, a reflection of Tigris' courtroom. Each seat was filled by women of various ages, heights, and sizes. Only one seat was empty near the head of the table. Beside the empty seat was a familiar woman, her spirit translucent. Her kind face creased at the sight of Roche, who grinned at her warmly.

"Finna!" Roche exclaimed, moving closer to the table.

A few of the other librarians peered at her distrustfully, but Finna merely smiled, readjusting her ghostly braid over her shoulder.

"Have a seat, Ala," Finna insisted, "You have changed since I last saw you."

"Indeed," Roche replied, her mirth fading. She peered at the assortment of faces around her as she slid into her seat, "I have come to ask for your aid."

"We cannot leave this place!" a hawkish, slender woman with her hair knotted into a bun said sharply. Her voice sounded like the voice that had first greeted Roche in the tunnel. She fixed Roche with a harsh look. "We cannot help you."

"I understand," Roche replied, stopping herself from flinching at the stern look the librarian shot at her, "My request is one that will take place here, in this sanctuary."

The librarians seemed to still. Roche's breath thickened and lodged in her throat under the weight of their curious stares. Finna tilted her head.

"Go on," she prompted.

Roche splayed her palms against the stone table, tracing the webbing veins through the skin. "My inkblood was taken from me, and the Fyra rides for Moiris."

A few of the librarians let out sharp gasps, glancing amongst each other as others blanched.

"Today?" Finna repeated, shocked. She traded an appalled look with her sister librarians, "The day has come?"

Roche nodded. "I need to get my abilities back. For the Fyra's sake. I was told that if I am not by her side by the time she reaches Moiris, these lands will be doomed."

Murmurs broke out amongst the gathered women. Finna's brows furrowed.

"And why have you come to us, Ala?"

Roche sucked in a breath. "When I first came here, I sensed a sea of inkblood beneath this library. You used it to heal me," she explained, meeting Finna's glowing eyes, "That is the only source of inkblood large enough for me to wield with the same ease as I used to. With your permission, I'd like to inject that inkblood into myself."

A flurry of protests immediately surged at the idea. A few of the librarians began to levitate, and Roche shrank back in her seat.

"This is a sanctuary," one of the librarians hissed in admonishment, "It is meant to protect. And you came here to take?"

Roche gritted her teeth, indignance flaring within her. "I do not take it for my sake!" she snapped, "I take it for the Fyra. I take it for these lands and everyone who resides on them. If I cannot stand next to the queen's side and protect her and myself, then we're all in danger!"

"The inkblood in this sanctuary is not the kind that can be injected," Finna said quietly. Even though her words were murmured, they somehow sliced through the chaos around her. The other librarians settled and spun towards her as she floated and bobbed above the table thoughtfully. She gazed at Roche, her brow wrinkled with concern. "There is far too much for it to be placed within you through such physical means."

"Then how can it be placed within me?" Roche pressed.

Finna's lips thinned. "It can only be bestowed. Just as it was to you at birth."

As if the words had been some kind of trigger, the other librarians began to converse in low tones amongst each other. They nodded and whispered as Roche struggled to understand what was happening. Before she could press, Finna began to hover higher, silencing the chatter.

"Exactly. I believe we've come to a consensus," she announced. The other librarians nodded as Finna's arms lifted and she began to chant an unfamiliar string of words. Roche scrambled to her feet, panic rising in her chest.

"I don't understand!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing loudly through the air, "W-what's the consensus?"

Finna paused for a moment. "The library of Eolna is one of a kind. It holds the inkblood of those who have fled here and relinquished their power as well as the unused inkblood of this world. That is the reason this place is so sacred. That is why it is protected. It connects to this universe's stores of inkblood."

Roche reeled, only understanding part of that explanation. "So... the inkblood here is the store of all the inkblood that the universe contains?" The librarians nodded and she added, with no small amount of frustration, "What does that have to do with me?"

"As an individual with no usable inkblood at the moment, you are not permitted on these grounds," the hawkish woman from earlier explained, much to Roche's frustration, "And you are certainly not allowed to draw inkblood."

"So," Finna continued when Roche began to wonder if she could punch a ghost, "We have no jurisdiction over you. We are only protectors of inkblood, and yours is locked away. For you to get the inkblood that is yours, the universe must bestow it to you again."

Roche was so frustrated that she nearly cried. "That could take ages!"

"It could," Finna agreed, much to Roche's dismay. Then she added, "But there is a way to speed up the process. A loophole of sorts. We may not be able to give you the inkblood you need. But we still control it, as protectors of this sanctuary. We can bring a large amount of inkblood near you and perform the enchantment for a test."

"A test," Roche repeated. The other librarians began to chant again, and she met Finna's eyes with desperation. "What test?"

"The same test that the universe gives to all natural, bestowed inkbloods," Finna answered, her eyes glowing. A smile spread across the ghost's face, "The test that determines whether you should carry ink. We are encouraging the universe to perform that test again."

"I never had such a test performed on me!" Roche shouted as the chanting reached a fever pitch. The librarians all began to float, rising towards the cathedral style roof. Roche launched to her feet, peering up at them. Fear clawed up her stomach, sending icy shivers down her spine. "I don't know what you're talking about."

For a moment, the chanting seemed to pause. Finna gazed at her, looking perplexed.

"Of course you do," the librarian said, "Inkblood is not given to those who are not ready to open their minds to it. It is only wielded by those who ask to."

Roche vaguely remembered the words Circe had told her when they'd first met.

The rules of the universe do not bend. You must have asked for something that the inkblood could fulfil. In return, you've been given control over one of the largest reserves of inkblood this world has ever seen. And you mustn't squander it.

Understanding filled her as Finna lifted her fingers, her eyes twinkling.

"Good luck, Ala." the librarian murmured. Then she snapped her fingers, and Roche knew nothing but darkness.

-------

The ground was moving. That was the first thing Roche registered as she rose to consciousness. She levered herself up carefully, feeling the grass shift beneath her, as if there was fluid beneath the layer of grass.

Roche's head spun, as if she'd been unconscious for quite some time. She poked at the ground, stabbing her finger through the mud and grass. Something icy and gelatinous slicked her finger. When she pulled her hand to the light, it was covered in ink.

Roche gasped and tore at the ground. Inkblood had risen to the surface. It bubbled beneath the grass, pooling in Roche's hands. She cupped the obsidian liquid in her palms, lifting it towards her face.

"Come on, come on," she pleaded, glancing around the empty space. She was outside in the glade, where she had been before entering the tunnel. Ismere's hollowed out eyes watched her as she poured the ink down her arms, wondering if it would sink in that way.

It didn't.

"Please," she whispered to the ink, "You've always told me what to do. Help me!"

The inkblood remained stubbornly inanimate and sloshed across her skin like regular ink. Roche nearly wept. She was so enraptured by the substance slicking her skin that she didn't notice the sudden silence of the forest around her.

"So this is where you've been hiding,"

Ice slid down her spine. Roche immediately dropped the inkblood, letting it splatter against the ground as she scrambled to her feet. Finn sauntered out of the shadows, smirking at her. His eyes trailed down to the ink stains on her palms and the inkblood at her feet. He laughed, a harsh and broken sound.

"This is rich," he howled with laughter, his shadowy uska prowling out of the forest. Roche glanced around nervously as the creatures formed a ring around the glade, trapping her in. Finn's laughter finally died down, and he swiped tears from his eyes. "I wasn't sure why you'd come here. I should have expected this. The Ala reduced to pawing through the dirt for a drop of ink. Not so powerful now, are we?"

Roche's blood simmered. She clenched her jaw. "Do you even remember what this place is?" she asked.

Finn's grin flickered, leaving something malicious in its place. "Oh, I remember," he said darkly. "This is the place where I was enlightened. Where I was shown the future I would bring, the future that you spurned. The future that you all shamed and ridiculed me for!" Finn heaved a breath. Roche watched him with every muscle coiled, ready to dodge a blow. But it never came. Finn flashed her a smug grin. "All that I have seen has come to pass. My sister marches to her death in Moiris. I will fight her and conquer these lands. No inkblood will ever know fear again."

Roche tilted her head, an empty smile spreading across her face. "If you're so keen on fighting her, then why are you here with me?"

"I don't leave loose ends," Finn answered quickly, but his eyes darted away from hers for a moment. The hackles of the uska around him rose.

Roche cocked her head. "Is that so?"

Finn stepped closer. Roche tensed as he came close. Inkblood was within every vein of his arm. It crept up his neck and down his legs, filling him as thoroughly as it had once filled her.

"I also wanted to see you," he promised, his voice soft yet lethal. As quick as a viper, he seized her wrist, twisting it until her palm faced him. He stared at the ink staining her skin. "To see you reduced to this."

Roche clenched her jaw, seething, burning anger filling her as Finn smiled slowly, mockingly. He waited for her to rise to his bait with a snarky retort. When it never came, he chuckled.

"I can't believe I believed you to be my undoing," he crooned, releasing her arm like she disgusted him, "I can't wait to see your body hit the ground. I can't wait for the uska to tear out your heart and feast upon it like roadkill."

Roche stepped back. "If that's true," she breathed, spreading out her arms, "Then why haven't you killed me yourself? Why wait for the uska? Tear my heart out of my chest now! Yank out my eyeballs! Bleed me dry and bathe in my blood. Kill me like I did your Council."

She waited. Finn's jaw worked, some inscrutable emotion flaring in his eyes. Roche lowered her arms, triumph rising within her.

"Just as I thought," she murmured, a grin stretching her lips, "You still fear me."

"I don't-"

Roche lifted her hand. Finn flinched back with a startled shout, and his uska rushed in front of him like a shield. Roche smirked, and he realised what he'd done. A flush bloomed bright in Finn's cheeks. He glared at her furiously, commanding his uska behind him with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not a fool. And I know you aren't either. I've come to ensure that you cannot come to Tigris' aid when her own knights turn against her," Finn announced.

Roche's heart froze in her chest. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Finn laughed. "Wasn't it you who implied that I am weak, powerless, and alone?" he taunted loudly, "I have no army. So I will take one. My sister will die under the hand of those she trusts most. She will fall knowing that she has been betrayed, just as I was."

An enchantment. That was the only way Finn would ever be able to force Tigris' loyal knights to fight against her. The details of Finn's plan clicked into place with frightening clarity. Finn would enchant the knights, convincing them that Tigris was their enemy. They would turn on her. As Tigris and anyone who wasn't under the enchantment fought back against their brothers and sisters in arms, the uska would descend, reaping chaos and bloodshed. And Finn could saunter in to land the killing blow.

Roche repressed a gasp as she gaped at Finn. It was a brutal yet effective plan.

She needed to get out of here and warn Tigris.

"And you," Finn drawled, flicking his fingers, "You will already be dead. I can't wait to see the look on Tigris' face when she realises she couldn't save you after all."

"You won't win," Roche swore as Finn turned around. She retreated, glancing around for a weapon, any weapon, as the uska prowled closer to her. "Tigris will defeat you."

"How?" Finn taunted without even turning around, "How will she when you're not there to help her, Ala?"

He paused at the edge of the glade. He spared her one last glance. Roche didn't recognise him at all as he murmured, "Goodbye, Roche. The world will be a better place without you in it."

With that, Finn flicked his fingers, disappearing in a tornado of ink. The uska took that moment to pounce.

Roche only had moments to act. She raced towards the tunnel and tried to dive back into the sanctuary, but she smacked into an invisible barrier.

"Are you kidding me?" she shouted, "Damn it, Finna! Let me in!"

The barrier remained stubbornly in place. Roche spun back around, her throat drying as a myriad of shadowy forest creatures peered back at her. A wolf snapped and drooled. A moose pawed at the ground menacingly, razor sharp antlers lowered. A pulsating mass of snakes were coiled to strike. Several muscled felines were crouched, claws ready to strike.

Roche sucked in one last breath, drawing the pistol Aodh had given her. It wouldn't do any good against the uska apart from frightening them. But maybe she could make a run for it in that time. She pointed the barrel at the largest creature, the moose, and fired.

The uska reared back and Roche took off in a sprint, her heart racing. She darted for the treeline, her pulse booming in her chest. She could hear the demonic screeches of the creatures of the dead chasing her, could feel their footsteps shaking the inkblood laden ground.

She wasn't going to make it out of here. She realised it a moment before the first uskoi struck. It was the snakes that reached her first. Their curved fangs sank into her ankles, dragging her back. Roche shouted, twisting to smack them away when the wolf's teeth bit into her shoulder, taking out a chunk. The mountain lions and panthers attacked next, their claws shredding the skin of her chest.

Roche sank into the agony, slamming into the ground under the assault of the creatures. She thrashed and kicked and clawed, but she was no match for the mob of the dead. They attacked with unfettered glee, smacking away Aodh's pistol. She watched it clatter against the ground, her heart sinking.

She was going to die here.

And Tigris would have no one to save her.

Her fingers dug into the ground as lightning strikes of pain ripped up abdomen, teeth and claws biting into her. Something sticky coated her fingers as blood drained from her body. Her hazy mind realised that it was inkblood.

"Please," she begged, crying out as a chunk of flesh was ripped from her side, "If you've ever been there for me. Help me. Help my queen!"

The inkblood stayed stubbornly unresponsive. Roche let out a choked sob, helplessness rising with her terror. She peered up at the cloudy sky. Her mind was fading, the ground beneath her becoming damp with blood.

Her mind drifted away from the pain radiating through every inch of her. It floated over to the library, just a few paces away. She thought of the librarians within its safe walls.

A test, Roche recalled faintly, Finna had said that the universe would test her. Was this it? What kind of a test was death?

No, that couldn't be it. There was something she was missing. Something that she'd asked for on that fateful day all those years ago in Brikui when her inkblood had first made itself known.

What was it?

What was she missing?

A gaping maw filled her view, teeth preparing to bite into her neck and end it all.

Roche stared her death in the face.

And screamed in rage as death came for her with a smile.

-------

Roche was alone.

She had been alone for most of her life, but never like this. Her mother had left their home and was doing damage control for Roche's latest mess up. She was trying to barter in the market without her wayward daughter, trying to encourage the village to forget what had happened.

Roche couldn't forget. She curled up in the corner of the one room house, fingering the edges of her newly shorn hair. The chief had dragged her outside and forced the entire village to watch as he'd cut her hair.

"This is what we do to Irulian whores who dare to attack our Faultless children," the chief had cried, drawing resounding cheers. Roche had lifted her gaze to meet Mallory's eyes. The young woman had stood next to her father, standing stiffly for a moment. She'd flinched ever so slightly as her eyes met Roche's.

'Say something,' Roche had pleaded silently, 'I've already lied for you. I told them that the kiss was my doing, not yours. Tell them that I would never hurt you.'

Mallory's lips had thinned. She'd turned her eyes away and pumped her fist, cheering with the rest of the crowd. Roche's first and only friend had abandoned her for the sake of a lie.

She'd been sheared like an animal, forced to bear the judgement of a hundred faces who had never looked upon her kindly. She'd gazed at the crowd, at everyone who had scoffed and spat at the young girl who had come as a toddler, spouting off stories about unicorns that she'd read in her mother's books. She had stared at the same people who had shoved her away from their children when she was just a toddler. They'd feared that her obsession with books or her Irulian heritage would taint their offspring.

Roche had committed every last face to memory. In all of her stories, the hero got their comeuppance. They got the chance to point at those who condemned them and feasted upon their apologies.

But as Roche sat alone in her house, without even her own mother to comfort her, she didn't feel vengeful or like she wanted everyone who wronged her at her feet.

She felt alone.

She felt dirty and unwanted.

She felt like a disgrace and a waste.

Roche squeezed her eyes shut, feeling them burn. Perhaps she should have wished to be normal. But she didn't want to be. She loved her books. She loved reading and learning. She loved the way words felt on her tongue even if no one liked listening to her. Roche didn't want to be normal.

She wanted to be loved.

She wanted to love.

She wanted to experience all the beauties in life that she'd only read about in stories. She dreamt of that now, she yearned for it so much that her heart physically ached. Something dragged her over to a lifted floorboard. She'd seen her mother standing over it during some nights when the villagers whispered about them in the market.

Roche pried that floorboard up now, gazing at what was beneath.

A thin sheet of paper. She didn't read the words on it, she barely noticed them. She only noticed the ink against the page, the curling, unfamiliar script. She traced the words with the longing she'd seen in her mother's eyes.

Her thoughts began to race. The words on the page seemed to dance. Roche's heart pulsed stronger and faster in her chest, drowning out the rest of the world as she held the ink close to her heart and dreamt.

She dared to desire.

Tears pricked her eyes as the world seemed to go still around her. For once, someone seemed to be listening to her. So Roche spoke. And she told them the beginning of the story that she'd carved into her own heart.

"There once was a girl who wanted to be happy."

There was a moment of silence. Then the world exploded with light and ink and pain. It took Roche a moment to realise that the explosion that had sent her flying across the house had come from within her, from the dark veins that were suddenly spidering across her body, stretching from her heart.

She yanked herself up, gaping at her reflection in one of her mother's cooking pots. All she could see was thick ink pulsing beneath her skin, filling every square inch of her body.

She had never seen something so beautiful.

Then her body was split with pain, and she collapsed against the floor, alone once more.

-------

Roche watched the teeth hurtle for her neck, a long faded memory springing up in her mind. She screamed as death approached, her thoughts finally clicking. She felt the inkblood beneath her go thick and gelid, perking with attention as she shouted out the line that had begun her story once so long ago.

"There once was a girl who wanted to be happy!" Roche screamed, her words tearing open the universe as it had all those years ago. Time seemed to slow. The teeth were nearly upon her, "And she was! She found her happiness in those she loved."

The air went still, the universe listening to her once more. Roche heaved a breath and whispered a new beginning.

"And now there is a woman who would do anything to protect them."

With a guttural shout, Roche dug her fingers into the ground. Her cry made the earth shake as inkblood jetted out, slamming into the wolf lunging for her. With a howl, the wolf was thrown across the clearing.

Ink slithered up Roche's legs in a tidal wave, stretching for her neck. She climbed to her feet unsteadily, bleeding and barely conscious as the inkblood continued to climb up her body, stretching across her skin. With every place it touched, she felt a new awareness prickle to life beneath her skin.

Cool, refreshing rain began to pour down her skin as her inkblood crept up her face, pausing by her lips.

Roche smiled.

The inkblood filled her, filling her mouth and nostrils and eyes. It sank through her skin, burning as it did so. Roche merely laughed, welcoming home what had run through her veins since the day she was born.

"You're mine and I am yours," she crooned, her words garbled by the inkblood upon her tongue. She was blind and deaf to the world with her ink, drowning on it, but she didn't care. She let it fill her, a familiar thrum filling her veins. She was at her former strength, she could feel it.

But that wasn't enough.

She'd asked the universe to help her protect Tigris, and she needed more than what she'd come to the Library of Eolna with.

Roche closed her eyes, delving down into her inkblood as a ring of fire sprang to life around her, warding away the shrieking uska. She ignored them, diving down to the place her father had shown her, where Leinos' bonds on her birthright still existed. Bonds that she could no longer bear.

The dam within her broke, a flood of new inkblood filling her. It surged through her, buoying her back up to reality and past that. Roche cried out, whooping victoriously as pain cracked through her, her body nearly bursting with long overdue ink. She lifted her gaze, grinning at the ring of uska that spat at her flames in distaste.

"Mord!" she ordered, her voice deep and commanding with ink on her tongue.

This was how she was meant to be. This was what a whisper was.

The uska froze like statues, the command rolling over them. Roche felt them struggle against it, desperate to please the prince who had promised to satisfy their gluttony. But Roche was a whisper.

She wouldn't let them plague her world any longer.

Her will was as unbending as steel. The uska relinquished control with desperate shrieks, stepping into the flames. They vaporised in an instant, returned to the realm of the dead.

Roche panted and sank back, sweat slicking her skin. She glanced at the carved out bites on her body, waving a hand at them. Her inkblood leapt to her will, filling the wounds and healing them in seconds.

Roche grinned.

Oh, I missed you, she thought to her inkblood fondly. It bubbled in her veins warmly, returning the sentiment. Roche extinguished the flames around her, her chest heaving as she gazed around the glade. The uska were gone for now, but as long as Finn's portal was open, they'd be able to return. Roche had to go to Moiris and help Tigris close it somehow.

"I'm glad to see that you passed, Ala," a voice sounded behind her. Roche spun around, her joy faltering when she saw Finna hovering there. She was tempted to yell at the librarian for letting her get chewed on by the uska, but she didn't have time. She also needed the librarian's help.

"Thank you," Roche replied first, the words slightly stilted. She paused, waiting for Finna to nod before adding, "I have one last favour to ask as an inkblood."

Finna smiled. "You are under my jurisdiction once more. Ask, Ala, and I will try my best to provide."

Roche nodded, moving to pick up Aodh's gun. It had landed next to Ismere's body.

"Tigris is going to fight at Moiris," she told the librarian, "She is destined to die there."

"I cannot thwart destiny, Ala," Finna said quietly. Roche's heart twisted in her chest.

"I know," she murmured, "Is there a way to bring her back from the realm of the dead unharmed? I am willing to pay any price."

And she was. She would pay any price for Tigris to live her days out as queen, to be able to enjoy the peace of the kingdom she'd built.

Finna's smile faded. "I can give you the enchantment. It has been used for ill in the past. I want you to promise me that you will only use this once, for the intended selfless purpose you have planned."

Roche nodded solemnly. "You have my word."

Finna's eyes sagged shut like she wished Roche hadn't said that. Still, she floated closer, holding out her hand. After a moment of hesitation, Roche grabbed it. Inkblood flowed between their joined hands, the words of the enchantment inking themself into her forearm with a prickle. The sensation faded after a moment, and Finna pulled away. Relief flushed through Roche's body, chasing away the adrenaline high of her returned inkblood.

"Thank you," she told the librarian earnestly.

Finna bowed ever so slightly. "Do you need anything else, Ala?"

"No, I'll call Circe to take me to Moiris. I should be fine from here, thank you."

"Circe?" Finna repeated, her brows drawing together, "The Striga?" When Roche nodded, she added, "You don't need them, Ala. You can go to Moiris yourself. I would highly recommend that you do, considering that your princess is nearly there."

"What?!" Roche shouted, glancing at the sky. Sure enough, it was nearly nightfall. Apparently, Roche had been in the library of Eolna and then unconscious for a day and a half. She shook away her shock. "How do I get to Moiris quickly?"

"Using a mirror," Finna tilted her head, "I believe you're familiar with the concept."

Roche was. She'd seen mirrors used in the Northern mountains. Kairon had used them to show her a vision. Circe and Tarak had used them to transport themselves to places that they wanted to go. Finna touched a hand to Roche's brow. Her inkblood stirred instantly, a word forming on her tongue.

"Leynuo."

Her inkblood dripped from her fingers, swirling through the air. It formed a large, round, swirling disk that hovered a foot off the ground. Roche could feel it waiting for her to say something, the name of a place or some kind of command.

Finna nodded. "Say where you'd like to go or who you'd like to see."

"Who I'd like to see?" Roche repeated, "I can scry with this?"

"More than that," Finna replied, "You can communicate with people."

Roche blinked. A plan slowly formed in her mind. She needed to get to Moiris, but if Tigris was already closeby, she needed protection and to be warned about Finn. With the mirror, Roche could do both. She turned to the expectant mass of inkblood, searching for the name of a librarian that she could contact. She realised, with no small amount of dread, that she only knew of two.

"Leynuo Tarak," Roche incanted, hoping that Orpheus wasn't with his guardian at the moment.

Instantly, her inkblood stilled, becoming reflective like a regular mirror made of glass. Then her reflection wobbled, replaced by an older face that Roche barely recognised. Tarak blinked in surprise, his eyes widening.

"Ala?" he gasped, hesitantly poking at the mirror. His jaw dropped, "How did you... nevermind. Why have you looked for me."

Roche bit her lip. "I need a favour. The Fyra is on her own and vulnerable at the moment with no inkblood protection. She will be at Moiris soon and will be fighting enchantments that will turn her knights against her. If you have any volunteers available who would be willing to aid her, I would be grateful and in your debt."

Tarak looked stunned by the words for a moment. He shook off his stupor quickly, smiling at her warmly.

"It would be any coven member's honour to fight for the Fyra," he replied, "I will send word to the covens."

Roche nodded. "Oh, and Tarak?" she waited for him to meet her gaze before whispering, "Please don't bring Orpheus. You and him must stay away from the battle."

It was a last ditch attempt to thwart the prophecy. Roche would avoid Tarak's help if she could as well, but she needed the help of the covens. She couldn't ward off a large-scale enchantment, command the uska, and protect Tigris all at once. She needed help.

Luckily, the covens were willing to provide.

Tarak nodded, looking a little confused, but he simply responded, "If that is what you wish, Ala."

Roche bid him farewell quickly and the mirror crumpled.

Finna watched, entranced. "Are you going to Moiris now?" she asked.

Roche smiled. "Not yet. There's one more person I need to talk to." She lifted her hand. "Leynuo Tigris Silvia."

The mirror formed a bit slower this time. It showed her a sleeping face.

"Hey! Tigris!" Roche shouted, but Tigris merely frowned in her sleep, a wrinkle forming in her brow.

"It can be difficult to connect with those without ink in their veins," Finna said quietly, "Especially if she's asleep."

Roche gritted her teeth. "Wakey wakey your Majesty!" she shouted, "Finn's coming for you! You need to keep your men close to you until the covens and I arrive. He has an enchantment that will turn them against you. You need to get your men up and ready before Finn gets there. Do you hear me, Tigris? WAKE UP!"

The queen shot upright in her bed, gasping. Her sleep-addled eyes darted around the room, and her hand already hoisted a sword. She blinked, the sleep draining from her eyes as her gaze connected with Roche's eyes.

"Roche?" Tigris whispered, her voice ghostly with surprise.

There was a snarl in the distance. Tigris' eyes flared open and she cried out. The mirror dissolved in thin air, taking away the sight of the queen with it.

Roche spun to Finna, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. "What happened?" she demanded.

"I'm not sure. Something broke the connection," the librarian muttered.

Roche's lips pressed together. She was going to find out what.

"Hang on, your Majesty," Roche murmured, lifting her hand. She didn't even need a verbal incantation this time. The mirror sprung to life in an instant.

"Goodbye, Ala," Finna whispered as Roche stepped through the mirror. Her words were faint in Roche's ears as she stepped into the icy battlefield of Moiris, "Good luck."

A/N: ROCHE AND HER INKBLOOD ARE BACKKKKK!!!!!!!!

I love this chapter. I really wanted to invoke the spirit of the scene in Merlin where Merlin gets his powers back. It's just such a powerful moment. I think I might come back to edit this later because one thing that really spoke to me in the show was the fact that the first thing Merlin did when he got his powers back was create something innocent and beautiful, a butterfly. He could have started zapping his way out and fighting like Roche, but he chose to highlight the beauty of his magic. I wasn't sure if that would take away from the flow and urgency of Roche's situation but it feels like an important piece of symbolism. I'm not really sure if I should edit this chapter in such a way, any thoughts?

Sorry if that didn't really make any sense or for any typos and inconsistencies in this chapter, I wrote it at 4 AM lollll.

As always, happy reading!