Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
The beast sighted him. It took one massive step forward.
The words dropped from Roman’s lips:
“CHERNOBOSHE, LORD OF NAV, MY GOD, AID ME IN MY HOUR OF NEED.”
A black bow appeared in his hands. He drew it, and a black arrow formed in his fingers, sizzling with power.
Roman fired.
The arrow sliced into the creature, ridiculously small, a needle piercing a giant.
There were few absolute truths in the universe, and yet one of them always endured, for it was woven into the very existence of reality: change was constant. From the moment the Universe was Born, it began to Decay. And Chernobog was the personification of that Decay.
The arrow sank into the creature. A brown stain spread from the wound.
The beast jerked and fell apart, collapsing into gobs of putrid flesh. Chunks of its body rained down, disintegrating into dust as they fell. Another moment, and there was nothing left. Only the empty yard.
At the mouth of the driveway, the Vasylisa cut the warrior’s head off his shoulders. It bounced and rolled to her feet.
The mercenaries fled. This was no structured retreat; no, they turned and ran, a pack of panicked human animals fleeing for their lives, down the driveway and out of sight.
Everything was still.
Roman let go of the bow. It hung in the empty air for a moment and then dissipated like the fragments of a nightmare.
The Vasylisa stepped over the dead warrior’s head and strode to the porch. He watched her come. Her magic was a muted light, hidden now, drawn inward. She was in her late twenties, half a foot shorter than him, and moved lightly on her feet. She was like a snowdrop flower that bloomed through a snowdrift in the bitter cold: strong, beautiful, captivating.
She walked up the steps and looked at the crown still on his head. Her eyes were very blue.
Suddenly he realized he stood in front of her in a torn, stained sweatshirt, old sweatpants, and Eeyore slippers.
“You invoked.”
“I had to.”
“There will be hell to pay.”
She knew. No surprise there. The Wise Vasylisas knew a lot of things. All of the gods talked to them, for the Vasylisas were their instrument for preserving balance. Perhaps Morena had told her.
“It’s not the first time,” he told her.
“But this time it’s because of my family.”
Roman reached up and touched the crown. It melted into smoke, and a gust of wind carried it off. Letting go of the power was like taking off armor after a hard battle. He felt tired and calm.
She turned to Finn. “I told you before, running from these things only makes it worse.”
He raised his chin.
“When the offer is made, either accept or reject it,” she continued. “This neither-here-nor-there waiting to make up your mind comes with a price.”
“That’s fine,” Finn said.
“No, it’s not. You’re not the one who’ll be paying it. He will.” She nodded at Roman.
Finn spun to Roman. “What is she talking about? What price?”
“You will see.” The Vasylisa turned to Roman. “We will come with you.”
“The Glades don’t discriminate,” he said. “They won’t spare you. There is no need.”
“You will be going through it because of my brother. I will go with you. It’s the least I can do. He will come too. It will be good for him. He needs to know the consequences of his actions.”
His mother’s voice popped into Roman’s head. Karma.
“Do you know me?” he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. A dangerous light sparked in her eyes. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
He shook his head.
“Andora,” she said. “Dora the Dud Explorer. Dora the Minus. I was three years behind you in the Veshnevski Academy. We had a class on runes together.”
Oh gods.
“You guys went to school together?” Finn asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t have any powers back then, because the previous Vasylisa was still alive. I wasn’t Slavic, I didn’t speak any of the languages, and our family wasn’t part of the community. I just started having strange dreams and then some manifestations happened, and the Witch Oracle found me and convinced my parents that I should be educated in Paganism.”
He remembered her now. In fact, the memory was crystal clear, branded in his brain.
“Other kids were mean,” Andora said. “But Roman was the meanest.”
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
“He turned my pencils into snakes. And my shoelaces.”
Somehow, he found his voice. “I was an unhappy kid. My magic was unstable. It was all snakes all the time. I couldn’t control it.”
“I had very long hair,” she said. “It was the only thing about myself that I liked at nine years old.”
Roman wished he could fade into the porch boards.
“He turned my braid into a poisonous viper.”
Finn stared at him.
“It bit me. I almost died. And nobody could turn the snake back into my hair. They had to cut it off.”
“I’m sorry,” Roman squeezed out. It was a long time coming.