mavka [d.m]

the huntress.

The shadows speak.

Only to her, of course. No one else can hear them, let alone understand them — but she can. She can because they like her — and they only speak to people they like.

Not that she's a person, as such. She's something wild and unrestrained and unapologetically cruel. She is powerful and her eyes shine like twin moons — a milky white that sparkles and glimmers. Entrances and entraps.

But she has no use for other people's appreciation nor their love. She is content to stay within the confines of her forest, destined to live on her own for eternity.

It is not loneliness that plagues her nor desire. She does not long or want or need. But tonight, something does weigh on her mind — something that makes her sick to the stomach.

Because one day, far into the future, long after she's gone to sleep forever, there will be another like her. Another who shares her power — but who is equally as undeserving.

Someone who will be as self-focused and as cruel as she is. Someone who will not care for anyone but themselves.

And while she realised that danger within herself — those traits that could tear the entire world apart if she let them — the other might not. The other might choose to wreak havoc on the world. To grab power when they see it, to use it for their own gain.

And the world will lie in ruins. A world she doesn't really have a care for — save for the forest, the wilds, the animals. The moon.

Everyone else can rot for all she cares.

Sleep, the shadows whisper to her. It is time.

She stares up at the moon from her perch on one of the sycamore trees deep in her forest. Have the rest of them?

Her shadows hiss in agreement. Yes. Your brother has just lain to rest. You are the only one left.

She ponders this. Her brother. Her twin.

"Alright," she says, softly. Hearing her voice one last time in the quiet of the forest around her — her home. "I will."

The shadows fade into the darkness again, going silent and leaving her on her own. She has always been on her own.

But still, she is reluctant to give in. Reluctant to lay herself to rest forever, never to wake. She could rule the world. All the others are asleep — and nothing short of the world ending will wake them now. She can have all the power she wants, destroy all those silly towns and villages the others so loved. Send plagues upon the mortal race, watch them tear each other's throats out and make themselves go extinct.

The world would be hers. Hers to explore, hers to hunt on, hers to admire and roam. She could have forests everywhere. With her powers, she could make trees sprout wherever she went. She'd have their fickle buildings torn down in seconds.

Power beckons and she badly wants to give in. She's only just reached her peak. Why should she have to give it up?

But she knows. Knows the real reason why they all must sleep, why they must rid the world of their presence. Why they must allow this earth to flourish without them.

And she supposes it's not so bad. They have their legacies. They bestowed their powers on a few worthy individuals. They're not dying — not really anyway.

She sighs and climbs down from her perch on top of the sycamore tree. Its leaves caress her as she does, a fleeting goodbye, a murmur of thanks. She gives one back.

At the foot of the tree, she takes one last breath. Looks around at the forest imbued with a hint of silver in the tree trunks — her Mark. At least she can be glad she will rest here, amongst the creations she loves. Buried with her hunting knives and her quiver.

The moon shines through the treetops. She looks up at it. Smiles. It sends a beam of moonlight right down onto the spot she's standing on.

And then she shuts her eyes. Feels the power humming in the ground underneath her feet, in the tree trunks and leaves. In the flowers and the squirrel scuttling along one of the branches. In the moonlight illuminating her skin, in the breeze that coasts past.

There will be one like her in the future — and she can only hope they never learn of what they are capable of.

The ground beneath her feet rises and swallows her whole.