Fate of the Demon

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

The twisted horns weighed down Brygida’s head as she drew the cottage door shut, careful not to make a sound. With the size as great as a stag’s antlers, there was no avoiding a little heaviness, but she’d hollowed out the twigs she’d used. The lejiń demon’s costume would appease Weles tonight, or so she hoped.

In the night’s cloak, her breath bloomed in the wintry air. She tugged her voluminous bear fur closer, securing it with a clawed belt over her good dress. As the year turned further toward its end, the cold greedily devoured more and more of each day. And tonight, there was no more left of warmth but a gnawed bone, chilled to the marrow.

The dark winter woods rested in silence tonight, even its apparitions haunting the withered undergrowth in eerie quiet. The reverent oaks had shed their crowns of leaves, bowing bare limbs to Weles.

A swift crack echoed in the clear air, followed by a thud—Mama splitting firewood in the garden, evidently with the duller axe. This wasn’t for their hearth, then, but for Mama’s own inner fire. On days when Mama’s frustrations ate away at her patience, she often took to the garden and the duller axe like fire to tinder. It was a habit of Mama’s she had inherited, at least in some way, because when her own frustrations hungered, there wasn’t a single bit of the cottage that didn’t get scrubbed. Days of fighting at home often spoke in heaping wood piles and gleaming surfaces.

She crept to the edge of the cottage and waited like a mouse under a broom, biding her time until the coast was clear.

“Come inside, Ewa,” Mamusia’s light voice entreated.

A brusque huff answered. “She’s not going, and that’s the end of it,” Mama grumbled. “The peace has been precarious, and she’s not thinking about the future—”

A soft sigh. “She’s thinking about tonight.”

Leaning against the ash-wood beams, Brygida bit her lip. Tonight…

Tonight she’d be entering a new world, one she was utterly unprepared for. Like falling into a winter stream, it made her shiver, but the unknown always did. It was the world that kind, thoughtful Kaspian inhabited, and that was all she needed to know. Like the seed anticipating the coming spring, she would put her trust in him and step forward. He’d protect her from his familiar dangers, and against all the rest, she would protect them both.

“You know it only takes one woman,” Mama murmured between resounding strikes of the axe.

One woman. Yes, the Mrok witches’ wrath of the blood came from Holy Mokosza, and that meant it couldn’t be used to harm women. A peasant woman could hurt her, possibly, but no one in the village wanted that, least of all the women. It was for their protection that Holy Mokosza had cultivated the Mrok bloodline here.

“This one night may bring grave consequences,” Mama finished grimly.

“And its forbidding may bring a lifetime of regret.” Mamusia’s words of caution left a lengthy silence breathing in their wake. “Let the children have this.”

For so long, Mamusia had sheltered her just as forbiddingly as Mama had, and it hadn’t been without reason. In a haze of prophecy, Mamusia had dreamed her end—death at the hands of a man—but when Julian’s grip had tightened around her throat, had that prophetic dream been sated? Mamusia had seemed to think so, and she even argued as though the danger had passed. Her prophecies, after all, were always certain and yet never clear. But this interpretation seemed the likeliest.

A tiny bud of hope blossomed in her chest. Mamusia was on her side, so Mama would be sure to follow. Holy Mokosza would topple her loom the day Mama would refuse her anything for long.

At long last, an exasperated grunt—Mama’s. Footsteps crunched, breaking the snow briskly, louder and louder.

Pressed tight against the wall, Brygida didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Maybe Mama wouldn’t notice her, and she could avoid yet another lecture—

Flowing blond locks breezed past her as Mamusia passed by and twirled, a little smile curling her lips and her violet eyes sparkling in the moonlight. A pleased sparkle, if looks did not deceive?

Brygida raised her mask, careful not to hit the cottage with the horns. Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out. It was a singular day that saw Mamusia championing an excursion beyond their witchlands, but here they were.

Mamusia leaned in and gave her a once-over. “Bear fur?” she whispered.

Stifling a laugh, Brygida shrugged a shoulder. It wouldn’t have been her first choice for appearance’s sake, but bear fur had a certain kind of magic, and when it came to appeasing Weles, she would take all the magic she could get. “For success, and wisdom.”

Mamusia gave her a sage nod, her left eye squinted playfully. “There’s a legend that bears are cursed humans trapped inside animals, you know.”

With a toothy grin, Brygida tugged the bear-fur cloak open. No human trapped inside a beast tonight.

Mamusia covered her mouth and muffled that easy giggle. “Good. Go, with my blessing and beneath Holy Mokosza’s watchful gaze.” But for a moment, Mamusia’s mirth faded. “But Brygida… I… For nearly your entire life, I have argued to keep you isolated, all because I misinterpreted a prophecy. But I dreamed of red eyes in the woods.” Her gaze meandered to a dark thicket, where the unknown lurked in the shadows. “It could be symbolic of unrest, just a sign, you see? Even so... stay on your guard.” With a sober nod, she leaned in closer. “And remember to have fun.”

Brygida half-laughed under her breath. There was danger, always, but they couldn’t spend their lives constantly looking over their shoulders. They had to trust themselves, and each other, to prevail by the grace of Holy Mokosza’s divine-given strength. Mamusia acknowledged that now. If only Mama could be so reasonable.

After all, Julian had been rightfully judged; Kaspian had been proven innocent. The village women still sought out their cottage for healing, midwifery, remedies, and last rites. But for a few malcontents, Czarnobrzeg seemed a bloom unfurled for the bees. And tonight would be splendid with celebration. And Kaspian.

Mamusia patted her shoulder, and with that, she departed for the front door with a light step and a sure-footed gait. Had she ever attended a village celebration? It had never come up, but doubtless the people would’ve loved her, with her easy smile, gentle way, and earnest good cheer. Not to mention, there were deer not nearly as graceful as Mamusia, and tonight, with all the dancing, was it too much to hope that her grace would be hereditary? Brygida took a deep, bracing breath.

Her entire life, she’d known only the simple pleasures of the forest, the blessings and rites of the Mrok blood, and the company of fairies, animals, trees, demons, and ghosts. Nothing so grand as luxurious feasts, dances in castle halls, and village songs to the tune of exotic instruments. Her meals before the fire, humble rituals, and primeval chants were small by comparison, and… so was she. There was the possibility that the villagers would see her as unworthy, unwelcome, un...civilized.

But they all celebrated the winter solstice, the same festival of Kolęda honoring Weles, didn’t they? The spirit of Kolęda lay in sharing, fortune-telling, unity, the spirit underlying the earth’s revival. And hospitality, tonight most especially, was a divine duty. Anything less than the utmost reverence would curse the upcoming year’s harvest and risk the ire of Weles, and no one would risk that. No one.

And the dream of red eyes in the wood, well, was only symbolic of some remaining unrest. Nothing more.

Tonight would go well. It would.

With a nod to herself, Brygida put her mask back in place, took a bold step forward, and headed for the castle in Czarnobrzeg.

And for Kaspian.