As Cresana's consciousness rose up from her dream state to meet her mind, she noticed first and foremost that she was in a soft bed. Instantly, she felt discomforted by this. She hadn't slept in a soft bed for 15 years since she came to The Institute, and she had lost her taste for them. She noticed a dull throb in her lower back – not the result of an injury, but the result of her body sinking into the plush mattress in a manner it was not used to. She was engulfed by soft blankets, another unusual luxury she was unaccustomed to, although this one did not bother her as much as the squishy mattress.

She willed her senses to sharpen and scan the room around her. She felt the warmth of sunlight on her face and a sweet smell of willowgrass traveling in on a gentle breeze. 'Still at the Little Palace,' she recognized. Willowgrass had been native in the fertile plain lands that had separated her mountainous home in the Sikurzoi foothills from the cold, rugged coastline of the Institute.

She could hear soft rustlings around her, some of them the result of the willowgrass breeze ruffling the curtains. Other sounds, though, told Cresana she wasn't alone. She could make out the almost imperceptible rustle caused by someone's breathing, the chest and ribcage expanding with the fabric of a garment rubbing against a chair back. Instantly, she felt her muscles tense. She scanned her body quickly, recognizing with an internal groan that she was unarmed and clad in some sort of impractically soft gown.

'There's no need for fighting here, Blade.'

Cresana opened her eyes to examine her guard, for she was sure that was what he was. He was a young man, maybe a few years older than her, with a noticeable scar along his jawline and flinty grey eyes. He sat in a straightback wooden chair about ten feet from the side her bed. His red Kafta gave away his status as a Coroporalki, and the black embroidery traced along the sleeves identified him as a Heartrender. Cresana's nostrils flared, and within an instant she had launched from the bed, coming to a low crouch on the side of the bed opposite the Heartrender. The cumbersome nightgown was ludicrously restrictive, particularly at her hips, so she unceremoniously bunched the fabric around her waist, allowing her legs freedom of movement.

A faint memory clawed at her mind.

'Ivan,' she growled.

The Heartrender regarded her with a studied indifference, although Cresana thought she noted a hint of astonishment at how quickly she had moved. He raised a reconciliatory hand.

'It is not my practice to attack Blades. I was acting under orders.'

So Cresana had been right: this was the Heartrender who had felled her in the Trial. She felt an instant surge of rage. Here, mere feet from her, was the man who had kept her from fulfilling her destiny. No doubt she had failed the Trial, for she had emerged neither dead nor victorious from the experience. Although Cresana felt a pang of indignation at being the first Blade to be tested against Grisha powers, she felt more keenly the sting of shame and rage as her face flushed.

'I should kill you where you stand,' she spat. Cresana contemplated attacking him, trying to calculate how quickly she could reach him and break his neck before he was able to execute the complicated hand movements of Small Science and stop her heart again.

'That would be ill advised.' Cresana genuinely jumped in surprise at the sound of another voice coming from behind her. It was the same voice that had ordered her Trial ended. Cresana watched warily as the same tall Grisha in the unusual black kefta walked around her side. Her eyes flitted back and forth between her foes. Cresana was unsure what the black of her second assailant's kefta signaled. 'This wasn't part of the training,' she noted, feeling a slight surge of fear and panic rise up in her throat. She realized it had likely been kept out of her training at The Institute intentionally, meaning this Grisha was important and likely unique.

She watched the two Grisha as they stood next to each other, regarding her quietly. Ivan rose deferentially from his seat; the black Grisha merely examined Cresana, an expression of satisfaction and slight bemusement playing across his face.

'You don't know who I am.' Not a question, but a statement. The dark eyes bored into Cresana, searching her expression for any hint of her thoughts. He found little there except a look of intense concentration and calculation as she continued to watch him and Ivan warily.

Cresana didn't reply or relax.

'I'm General Kirigan.' Cresana didn't recognize the name, although she realized that they had rarely discussed specific Grisha at The Institute, aside from memorizing the Directives of old Blades. She had of course been familiarized with the history of Small Science and had been drilled on the basics of the Grisha's colors, powers, and their ranks. This knowledge was, of course, a necessity, particularly in battle. Blades would be expected to fit fluidly into the tactics of the Second Army, and part of that meant having a basic understanding of their fighting style and hierarchical structure.

Cresana realized the black General and Ivan were waiting for her to react to this news. She continued to watch the two men dispassionately. She noticed a distinct flicker of annoyance in the General's eyes, but just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, replaced by a sneer of congeniality that Cresana instantly mistrusted.

'You will be spending a lot of time near me, so I'd prefer that you knew how to address me,' the General continued. Cresana's interest was piqued, although she knew that, at her earliest opportunity, she would have to end her own life to account for her failure to pass the Trial. She felt neither frightened nor desperate at this thought. She had never heard of another Blade exiting the Trial alive but not victorious, but she felt certain that there would be no greater shame than to live the rest of her days carrying that knowledge.

'No, that won't be necessary.' The General addressed Cresana's thoughts privately, as if she had voiced them aloud. This did catch her attention, and she allowed it to show in a slight arch of her eyebrows. She knew that some Grisha had extraordinary powers, but to read another's mind? She had never heard of such a gift before. She felt a prickle of anxiety as she began to consider the implications of this gift.

'I failed the Trial.' Cresana's voice was quiet but strong, cold in its finality. She surprised herself by speaking; she had an unsettling sensation that the sound had escaped her throat not entirely of her own choice.

'Failed? You didn't fail, Blade. Your opponent would surely be dead, had we not interceded,' the General gestured to himself and Ivan before continuing. 'I know it is not custom in your order to discuss these matters, but your Trial was unique. Never before had we tested a Blade against a foe while crippled by a Grisha's power.'

Cresana's eyes narrowed as she considered this statement.

'I don't understand,' she replied simply after a few moments of silence.

'The darkness. Surely you realized...?' General Kirigan raised his eyebrows in questioning as his voice trailed off. Cresana's jaw clenched ever so slightly as she came to a tentative hypothesis.

'That was you?' she posited. The General smiled indulgently.

'It was. The Evaluators approached me years ago with this request. They felt you would be specially equipped to overcome the limitations of a world without sight.' As if relieved to have finally unburdened himself with the truth, the General sat down lightly on the edge of the bed Cresana had awoken in. Ivan followed suit, coming to rest in the same straightback chair he had started in.

Cresana allowed a long breath to exhale through her nose as she sifted through many revelations. The Evaluators had requested this? Years ago? And what did he mean, specially equipped? Her thoughts raced as she struggled to connect the pieces.

The General must have detected her trepidations, because he raised his hand as if to steady her.

'Perhaps you should sit. There is much to discuss.' The General gestured to the chair Ivan sat in. Quickly, although not without a begrudging look, Ivan rose from the chair and indicated to Cresana with his eyes that she was to sit. Disarmed by the surprise of this information, Cresana felt herself oblige the Grishas. In a similarly unnerving realization, she had the same suspicion that this action wasn't entirely of her own volition, although she tried not to fixate on that preposterous idea.

'You must have questions,' General Kirigan prompted her.

She bit back the urge to spit on him.

'It would seem you have the answers, so why don't you spare me the time and illuminate me,' she retorted.

Kirigan laughed, tipping his head back and letting out a hearty chuckle.

'This is a great honor, Blade. There's no reason to act otherwise.'

Cresana didn't reply, but merely waited for him to continue.

'Very well, if you won't play along, I suppose I shall spare you the time.' His voice dripped with sarcasm and amusement. 'Blades have long been invaluable assets to the Grisha, as I'm sure your Institute has never failed to remind you. Without your assistance on the battlefield, my Grisha would succumb to the barbarism of hand-to-hand combat at a rate too unconscionable to allow.' Although his words suggested true concern for his constituents, Cresana was struck by the feeling that General Kirigan did not bemoan the needless deaths of unprotected Grisha as much as he played at.

'Blades have often been used for special missions throughout our history together,' he continued. 'But I, along with your Evaluators, believe there is... room for expansion.' The General relished the final words, and the self-congratulatory smile that accompanied them told Cresana that, whatever expansion was planned, it had sprung solely from the black General's machinations.

'I take it I'm part of this planned expansion, then.' Cresana decided it wouldn't do to allow the General to bask too long in his own glory.

He nodded, his focus returning to her.

'Yes, you are.'

Cresana allowed this to settle in her mind a bit. The idea that there was some sort of plan, some premeditated path to her training as a Blade, one that had been put into action years ago while she was still training at The Institute, gave her a small measure of satisfaction. She realized that, in all likelihood, she was never meant to finish her Trial, although she did have to swat away the gnawing regret that she hadn't been given the honor of killing her opponent. She wondered who knew... The Evaluators, obviously, had been involved to some degree in the inception of this plan. Her father too? 'More than likely,' she thought to herself. Her father was held in high esteem by The Evaluators, and she knew that they occasionally provided him with updates on her training, although this was strictly forbidden by The Institute's tradition of secrecy. She felt the knot of shame loosen in her stomach slightly when she realized that she wouldn't have to face her father's wrath at her failed Trial. At least, probably not.

'I see.' Cresana wasn't sure how to put into words her thoughts on the situation, so she opted to keep her replies simple.

Kirigan studied her intently, his dark mahogany eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she returned his steadfast gaze. She felt an almost probing element to his stare, as if he were reaching across the distance between them and grasping blindly through her thoughts. Although strange, Cresana didn't find the sensation unpleasant, and she was determined not to appear weak by breaking his gaze. She returned his eye contact, watching the way his thoughts flickered past at light speed behind his eyes.

'Very well,' he said finally, standing up abruptly from the bed. Cresana was startled by how quickly he broke the reverie.

'As I said, much to discuss, Blade, but we have time and you have training.' General Kirigan began striding towards the door at the back of the room they were in.

Cresana noted, for the first time, the sumptuously decorated room around her. Gold gilded mirrors hung on almost every wall, and the large floor-to-ceiling glass doors were all thrown open to a long balcony overlooking a courtyard full of fountains and flower beds. She noted absentmindedly the cluster of tall, ivory colored willowgrass that had perfumed her room protruding lazily from a large urn at the corner of the balcony.

Cresana felt the urge to rise as the black General exited the room, but she fought down this urge. She recognized in him a challenge, as if he were testing her by her every move and reaction. She loathed the idea of appearing weak or deferential. After all, Blades were not trained to serve the Grisha, but to protect them. The Evaluators had been thorough in their preparation for this role, and they had droned on at length about the Grishas' egos and the importance of maintaining your status as an equal, not a servant. There was no doubt that Cresana's training had been lacking in its preparation for this turn of events, but she had a steadfast conviction that, at its core, The Institute had prepared her for whatever journey lay ahead.

She heard the General, flanked closely by Ivan, hesitate at the door. She imagined, with no small degree of satisfaction, the look of irritation he must have worn when he realized that she hadn't stood to herald his exit, like most of his subjects no doubt did.

Without a final word, Cresana heard the two Grisha exit the room, and the door close behind her. She was alone.

She stared outside into the courtyard the balcony overlooked. She just then noticed that the sun was setting, and she regarded it calmly as it sank over the roof of the Little Palace on the opposite end of the courtyard. Unlike the cold, bleak sunsets she was used to at The Institute, this sunset was awash in warmth. Hues of gold and amber reflected off the windows of the Little Palace, and the soft rose pink of the sky only enhanced the majesty of the moment.

Cresana took a deep breath in and out. No doubt there was uncertainty ahead, but at least for the time being, it would appear that she was, at long last, a Blade.