Married to a Monster

Chapter 3

A village was a village, even in another world, because here they threw a celebration for me.

They carried tables out onto the main street and covered them with dishes the likes of which you didn’t always see even in restaurants. For a couple of hours, I couldn’t escape the grasping hands of the local women. Not until they had dressed me completely. They even braided my hair beautifully. With my thin, soft hair, any braid usually refused to hold for long, but apparently I had simply never been in the hands of true masters before.

And the sarafan was gorgeous.

Honestly, for someone from a technologically advanced world, it was surprisingly strange to feel such fine, pleasant fabric beneath my fingers, decorated with intricate embroidery.

Also, everyone—literally everyone—kept trying to feed me. The especially bold ones even scolded me for being far too thin. Honestly, I had to keep myself under control and smile, trying not to say one word too many. Because in my youth, I had spent enough time on diets and exercise machines to get myself into shape. And now all those efforts were in danger of sinking into oblivion.

“Ivan!” I caught sight of my old acquaintance in the crowd and grabbed his shirt sleeve.

“Oh, Asya, what is it?”

“Hide me!” I hoped my poor, trouble-prone head wouldn’t be visible behind his broad back.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, startled, trying to turn around and face me.

I refused to let him. Either I suffered now, or I spent the next five years working off extra kilos. And Vanya’s broad back and impressive height shielded me wonderfully from the local girls who were eager to teach me everything.

If only they gave advice.

No. They were actively fattening me up.

“Ah, got it.” Vanya noticed the group of female faces looking around in search of someone. “Come on. I’ll hide you.”

“I still can’t understand why everyone treats me like this,” I complained to him in the main room of one of the houses. “No, of course, it’s nice that they aren’t spitting at me in contempt or tying me up and forcing me to obey someone’s demands. But this hyper-care is a little stressful.”

“What an imagination you have,” Vanya snorted at my words about being tied up. “And they’re caring for you, dressing you up, and feeding you because they’re grateful.”

“For what?”

“You really don’t understand?” He stopped smiling.

“Maybe… not completely.”

“Asya, it’s you going into the forest. Not someone’s girl, daughter, sister. You. They’re grateful that their loved ones—or they themselves—don’t have to go into the unknown. They’re simply glad it isn’t them. And we’re all grateful that you’re not throwing hysterics, staging some kind of strike, trying to escape, or trying to kill yourself. Not one kidn*pped girl has ever behaved so calmly. So yes. They’re grateful to you.”

Only when we were already sitting at a table covered with a white cloth and crowded with all kinds of food did I catch hold of one thought by the tail.

“Vanya, why did all the others try to run away? You offer everyone a new life in another world properly, don’t you?”

“How do I explain this?” Vanya, sitting beside me, sighed heavily. “Every time I look for a girl, a young woman, or a man—it depends on whose turn it is to take the tribute—someone who has nothing to lose. A couple of times I caught suicide cases. And both girls, once they arrived in Graninskaya, threw hysterics, though you’d think getting married couldn’t possibly be scarier than dying. Their husbands didn’t seem especially ugly either. One was a space djinn—he got bored living alone in his lamp. The other was a Sovereign of the Winds. Honestly, I forgot his name. And he was handsome too; he just lived high up and needed a wife who wasn’t afraid of heights. That was the girl I caught. Barely managed it, by the way, from the spire of some tall building in one city. The name was too complicated for me. I don’t remember what it was called.”

“I see you’re not very good with names,” I smiled.

“Russian names are easier to remember. That language is closer to us. Though we speak the others freely too—it’s an innate ability. But names…” He paused. “Here, they’re not just a set of sounds. They’re the essence of a person. So names that mean nothing, or whose meaning I don’t understand, I don’t remember. You, for example, make sense. Anastasia. Nastasya, in the simple form. Your name suits you—‘reborn.’ I don’t know why, but I feel that it fits.”

“Maybe you’re right. My life on Earth was good from a human point of view. I was always the best, always striving to be. Studies, work, personal life. And then someone close to me betrayed me, and I suddenly realized that in all that life, there hadn’t been even a small piece of happiness for me. Now I’m sitting here, and I understand—whatever waits for me in the World of Chaos, I’ll definitely be happier with the Vodyanoy than I was back then. Even now I feel… yes, reborn. I’ve been given an absolutely clean chance at a new life, untouched by anything. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s good, Nastasya.” Vanya nodded approvingly. “It’s good.”

It was customary to “give tribute” at dawn.

I walked like a bride.

Although, why like? I was being given in marriage.

The white sarafan was simple, with a minimum of embroidery, lace, and decorations, but I liked the way I looked in it. And what a blessing that it didn’t evoke any associations with a burial shroud. The villagers were almost crying, and I was sad to say goodbye to these simple, honest people. I’d managed to run around with the children, gossip with the girls, and even share secrets with the married women during those rare moments when they finally got tired of chasing me with food.

Ridiculous, honestly.

Now, with anticipation—and yes, a little fear—I stepped across the green carpet of grass.

Barefoot.

Strangely enough, in the forest not a single branch or stone got under my feet. Only moss and grass. Sometimes those gave way to little strawberry bushes, and within five minutes my feet were splashed with red.

The unreality of what was happening was astonishing. I was walking barefoot through a forest in a wedding dress and veil to marry the Vodyanoy, accompanied by a crowd humming some kind of song in a steady drone.

Wild.

I glanced over my shoulder. Vanya was walking a little behind me.

“Vanka,” I whispered, though my whisper drowned in the mournful hum of the villagers.

“What?” he whispered back.

“I forgot to ask. What kind of portals do you have? Why won’t I be able to return?”

“Here.” Vanya pulled a wooden medallion on a plain hemp cord from inside his shirt and began explaining quietly. “Every willing person in this village has gates like these—or a portal, as you’d call it. Stories about improper use are absorbed here with mother’s milk, which means such a thing is safe for a person. One side absorbs the energy of the world you leave.” He turned the medallion over. It was double-sided, made of light and dark wood. “The other side absorbs the energy of the world you go to. The first is needed to break through the veil between worlds, the second to return. The worst thing is when the necessary energy isn’t present in a foreign world. You won’t be able to return on your own, and those who can pull you out still have to guess where you ended up, why you didn’t come back, and what to do to bring you home. So people don’t wander through worlds for no reason. You never know.”

“I see.” I fell into thought.

Vanya glanced around nervously and quickly shoved the little portal medallion into my palm.

“Here. Take it.”

“What? Why?”

“Quiet!” he hissed. “Don’t draw attention. Hide it and don’t show anyone.”

I clenched my hand into a fist and hid the medallion in the folds of my dress, pretending to hold up the hem. Lucky that it was long enough for that.

“You won’t lose it?” Vanya asked anxiously.

“No.” I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Asya, you became my friend,” he suddenly whispered. “I don’t know what awaits you there, but what if the gates help? What if things are bad for you and you want to go home? They’re already tuned to your world. All you’ll have to do is wish to be there—strongly, with your whole heart.”

“Tha… thank you.” My heart gave a painful little twist, and tears rushed to my eyes. “Thank you for everything, Vanya.”

“We have arrived!” the village elder proclaimed in a booming voice.

In the middle of a forest full of familiar greenery lay a strange stone platform. They placed me before its edge. I grew a little confused, and when I looked around in bewilderment, I realized that not one person had stepped over that boundary.

“Maiden who came from another world, accept our words of repentance and gratitude. On this day, we give tribute to Chaos.”

The elder carefully but insistently took my hand, making me step onto the stone, which turned out to be unexpectedly warm.

“Here is our ransom!” he suddenly cried out loudly. “We ask!”

“We ask! We ask! We ask!” the crowd behind me began to chant.

It suddenly became uncomfortable.

And who would enjoy being almost ritually sacrificed? Well, if they’d opened a portal and shoved me into it, fine. But this sent a shiver down my spine because of how practiced and clear the people’s cries were.

A thought suddenly beat against my mind like a frightened bird: had they been sincere in their care?

Possibly.

But right now, they were offering me as a sacrifice to an unknown and dangerous being without the slightest pity. Because they were used to it.

I wondered what they were asking for. That their sacrifice be accepted? Or blessings for themselves?

It hurt so suddenly and so much that my eyes stung with tears. But I didn’t want to cry in front of all of them. I wanted only to wrap my arms around myself and be offended at the entire world.

But pride raised its head and clenched its fists.

No. I would not allow anyone to think of me as a meek victim. This time, I would accept whatever fell on my head and gnaw out for myself if not happiness, then at least freedom of action.

Don’t hold your breath.

Still, I noticed one tear—the quickest one—manage to fall onto the dry, warm stone. It landed as a dark little spot and was instantly absorbed, as if it had never existed. My tears dried at once.

Something was about to happen, because this stone was definitely not ordinary porous clay.

The people fell sharply silent.

In the silence that followed, I heard water murmuring somewhere very close. If I hadn’t known there was no stream nearby, I wouldn’t have paid any attention to it. The sound was soothing and peaceful.

Suddenly I no longer cared what the villagers had done. That was already behind me. A feeling of lightness and freedom came over me. After all, what did I have to lose? Ahead lay a new world, a new life from a clean page.

So throw away the fear and go forward.

Ignoring the tense silence and going against all the rules—the village elder had repeated at least fifty times that I was supposed to stand calmly and wait until I was taken—I walked toward the center of the stone platform.

The moment I stopped, water burst from beneath my feet, splashing outward like a strange flower. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, and I froze, admiring the droplets glittering around me.

What beauty after all.

Coolness slid along my legs. I looked down and saw water softly, almost tenderly, wrapping around me higher and higher. But there was no fear. On the contrary, I felt protected.

I glanced briefly at the villagers.

It made me want to laugh. I would remember their bulging eyes and hanging jaws.

Obeying instinct, I suddenly flung my arms wide, and streams of water surged up before my eyes…

The transparent petals glowed faintly and then suddenly snapped shut, leaving behind only a silent crowd and a completely dry stone.