Irise from Theron’s comfortable thigh. Before me, the women jump over the fire in pairs, their sarafans billowing, their voices rising in song. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
When the grandmothers captured me earlier and dragged me to their homes, I thought they meant to scold me. Instead, they dressed me in this traditional gown. I saw women in Tárnov wear them for grand festivals, but never like this. The fabric, the braids, the chapel headpiece, it all fits me as if it were made for me. They ate sunflower seeds as they worked, chatting and humming like a secret sisterhood.
I had a few seeds myself, but Grandmother Raya, the one who braided my hair, had tapped my wrist. “You cannot eat too much before a proper meal, child.”
The words made me smile. Mother used to say the same thing. But now, I stand before a sea of free women. This is our liberation. Every single one of these women has chosen to come to Ávera. I raise my arms to the sky and close my hands into fists.
The fire erupts, its flames turning blue at my will. “Dance, free spirits! Dance and sing! This is who we are.”
The vólkins howl, their voices echoing through the night. The women gasp, their eyes wide as blue roses rise from the soil and bloom in the wake of their liberation. My power is beautiful. One burst after another, more and more roses explode from the dark earth. I sweep my hands through the air and summon the wind. Leaf spirits whirl to my command, dancing through the flames. More women jump over the fire, over the ashes of their pasts, their suffering. More burn belts, uniforms, hats, knives, watches??—
Everything that once held them captive, burned to nothing.
To my left, nýmphí weave different hairstyles into the hair of young girls. To my right, children chase the leaf spirits, laughing with the crackling fire while grandmothers dance alongside warriors. One day, this is how the entire world will look, free from the children of the Snake.
“Oh gods!”
I turn to see a woman, probably around my age, with golden locks and beautiful blue eyes. The nýmphí guide her toward me, and the leaf spirits playfully tug at her gown.
“There are no gods in this world,” I say, a smile curving my lips as I meet her gaze. The nýmphí bow, then retreat with soft giggles to join the others.
“No gods?” she echoes, her posture straightening. She stands just slightly taller than me, but the curiosity in her eyes makes her seem younger, almost... childlike.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you?” My smile widens. “Only goddesses exist.”
Her eyes grow round. “That makes sense,” she murmurs, tucking a golden curl behind her ear.
“It does. Men created a god because they couldn’t accept that a woman creates life.”
She stares at me.
I lift my hand, and with a thought, a blue rose blooms in my palm. Its petals glow in the firelight as I extend the rose to her. “When you understand this, you awaken.”
With trembling fingers, she takes the rose. Its stem rests in her palm like a sacred offering.
“And when you do,” I continue, my voice lowering, “you become your true self.”
The woman presses the rose to her heart. “My name is Vasilisa.” The blue fire shines in her eyes, reflecting together with the petals of the blue rose. She is stunning, not only in form, but in spirit. “And I want to be a warrior. To stand by your side.”
I see the fire in her.
I feel it. Vasilisa.
A beautiful name for a beautiful soul. I meet Theron’s gaze before putting my sword into his paws. Then, I turn back to Vasilisa and take her hand in mine. Without a word, we run. The fire roars before us, blue and wild. I tighten my grip on her hand, feeling her pulse race with mine. With my other hand, I lift the skirt of my gown. Laughter, bold and fearless, spills from my lips as we jump together, soaring over the flames, over the ashes of the past.
“Theron!”
I laugh as Theron nips at my neck, his sharp teeth grazing my skin before trailing up to my cheek. The glow of our crystals pulses bright in the dark barn. Apparently, the grandmothers taught him something new tonight, something he couldn’t wait to try.
“Did you know,” he murmurs against my skin as he lifts the hem of my skirt, “that we can kiss with our tongues?”
My eyes widen. Kiss with tongues?
Dear goddesses above.
I lean back against a wooden platform, my bare feet sinking into the piles of hay. The celebration continues outside, but we slipped away for a moment of quiet, our own private escape.
Theron grins. “I knew there had to be more options.”
