❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐄,
𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄. ❞
Saskia Vrana knows what to do when the Nights of Smoke come: Close the windows and doors. Don't look out into the darkness. Sacrifice and pray. And never dare to leave the co...
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HOW THE SHADOWS FEAST ix. into the wolf's jaw
the fifth night
❅ ❅ ❅
Head bowing low to the Bright Mother and whispering prayers with a voice too soft for his canine teeth he suddenly appeared innocent. A devoted child in front of the powerful goddess, asking for her blessing.
Only the sword lying in front of him to receive her benediction reminded of the fact he was not a youth pleading for their life to be spared but a warrior bidding for his weapon to taste more blood than he would lose. An ancient ritual to prepare himself for hunting.
Follow him, Anyan's voice had whispered in her head when Prince Silvan had left the dining hall for this ceremony, and without thinking twice, Saskia had done so. But now, standing at the entrance of the chapel, she did not know what to do anymore.
From behind the altar, an almost translucent little creature eyed her and the prince suspiciously, irises glowing wary as if it had awoken from an age-long slumber. A gospodarchek ...
To this day, it had never occurred to Saskia the convent might have some. That in fact, it had not to be all lifeless stone and cold fire, but could be a true home. Watching the house spirit alive her chest filled with igniting joy. Even though, it could choke the fear that tightened her throat only for a moment.
Not all creatures were benevolent and this protector of the house had not been fed with offerings for decades, thus Saskia feared he would not be powerful enough to keep out the evil spirits.
She did not want to know what else had entered the convent already.
"Have you ever wondered what she sees?" Silvan eventually chose to break the silence. "When she looks down to us gazing upon her from her lithic eyes ... what does she see? A proper devotee worthy to do her work?"
Is it her work, though?
For a moment, she could have sworn to sense concern in his words—an honest sorrow about the things that were happening and that he had sworn to protect Schwarzhain from—but he seemed to think better of it than to share those thoughts with her the next.
"What do you want, desetnitsa?"
The candlelight caught in his raven hair, gracing it with a reddish glow as his head rose. Around him, the shadows quivered.
The word struck Saskia like a blow, but she continued anyway. "So you know?"
"Mother Gesa told me you are cursed, yes. I should've known when I saw you with Sister Katinka, that the convent's little Hexe found herself a fitting friend."
Saskia clenched her teeth at this dreadful word. Witch. The prince did not even feel ashamed damning with it one of her own daughters in Perhta's presence as his eyes still lay on the effigy, unfazed. Meanwhile, Saskia's wandered to the blood-sprinkled blade. Silvan's blood, sacrificed to the goddess.
