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I freeze, stepping backward toward the chapel, trying to be quiet and invisible. But I step on a twig and the cigarette is still lit, so I bet I’m easy to be seen.
What should I do? All my options are bad. I don’t want to scream, or run, or stay here. I want to disappear, like the smoke twirling into the night.
“Shhh.” I hear from under the tree. It’s another person. A massive man, his skin smooth and taut like Koschei’s was many moon cycles ago.
Before I can decide what to do, he runs up to me, faster than I’ve ever seen, and presses a hand to my mouth, enveloping me in his arms like a winged beast.
My cigarette falls to the grass, the little flame dying instantly on the wet soil.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man says in my ear in a deep voice. “I’m a visitor from outside and only want to talk. My name is Damien.”
After that, we met every time the sun set, by the tree. My regimented life of Malaya Zhritsa meant I had the privilege of a ‘Darkness reflection walk,’ where I’m supposed to think about how the impending dark will affect our minds and souls.
To be fair, I’ve been using it for exactly that—meeting the stranger from another world means I have lots to reflect on. At some point, as we shared stories about our respective worlds, he started bringing me little presents. Usually things I can eat or play with in my hands.
I can’t take anything back, for fear of my secret being discovered, but it’s always the highlight of my evening. It’s curious meeting someone who doesn’t want me to keep quiet but instead encourages me to speak up. Maybe I shouldn’t go spilling our world’s sacred secrets so easily, but it feels so good that I can’t stop. It’s become a game to look at his expressions as I tell him my stories. No one here reacts as vividly as him. Every night before bed, I practice arranging my face similarly to his and imagine I’m outside, freely smiling or expressing deep concern. Not that it will ever happen, but it’s fun.
This time, Damien has brought me a loose book—pages of colored drawings he calls ‘photos.’
“I don’t understand,” I say as I stare into the dark image, illuminated by a small light instrument. It depicts one of the village children, half naked, with familiar bruises.
“This cult, your village, is selling children to people who take advantage of them and abuse them,” Damien says with fervor in his voice. He’s whispering, but his booming voice makes me uncomfortable.
“This is David. He was always a troublemaker. Seems he let the darkness in again.” I sigh and hand him back the photo.
“What? No, you can’t beat children. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“How do you get rid of the darkness inside in your world if you don’t force it out?” I ask, confused about where this is going.
“We just talk to each other.” His face is as confused as mine.
I know his world is strange, but talking the darkness away? How would that even work?
“Do you have any more of those circle brown balls that melt in my mouth?” I ask, not interested in his stack of punishment images.
“Yes, but look at all these first.” He pushes them into my hands. “Not all of them were troublemakers, were they? And what kind of cleansing ritual involves someone dying?”
That startles me. No one dies in the village. Koschei is immortal. Soon I will be too, and all the children who pass through our land go on to head their own villages, where they also don’t die.
My brows furrow as I flip through the images. They get more and more gruesome and when I reach little Anya, her tiny body covered in blood, I can’t look anymore. There was never any darkness in her. She was never part of any rituals here because she was the epitome of a Light-touched child. My stomach churns with a feeling that is both new and familiar. It’s fear, but not for myself. What happens to us outside of the village? For Anya to end this way…
“Tell me more about the children.” I brace myself for a violent story that might shake the foundations of my world.
“Take this,” Damien says, pushing a bracelet with a round instrument in the middle into my hands. “It’s a watch. When both of these arrows point to twelve, we will enter the village. Make sure you’re here at that time so we can save you.”
“No.” I step back, hiding my hands behind my back. “This place is evil. The darkness has taken over it. Over everyone, including me. I don’t need saving. Make sure you contain Koschei in the chapel. He can’t die. Everyone else has to pass on to Nav. It’s a beautiful green field and I’ve heard there are no punishments.”
“I can’t do that. You’re my informant, and the children are innocent.” Damien’s face is pained now.
It’s been a full moon cycle since we started talking, and the scary things I have learned about Koschei and our village piled up one on top of another like a honey cake made of dirt. The choice to stop all of this wasn’t easy, but what else can I do? There is no other way. We can’t go to the other world. We will never be accepted. The way Damien described it, it’s so different that we won’t be allowed any of our rituals. We will lose any protection of the Light we might have had.
No, my world has to be cleansed. Koschei is tainted by darkness and he’s tainting all of us too. I caught Evgenya’s mother hiding in the closet a few nights ago, hitting her belly hard with a rock. It was so bizarre. She has a seed of immortality within her. Why would she try to harm it?
Maybe she knows what I know. Maybe shefeelssomething is wrong. Deep down, I always wondered why life was made of so much pain. What if the way we live is not normal? Could we live peacefully, painlessly, and then go to an even better Nav? Do we have to suffer so we can appreciate the absence of pain?
“We need to be cleansed before we enter Nav. Keep Koschei away from us and we’ll be fine.”
He shakes his head, taking his ‘watch’ bracelet with him, and climbs up the wall. My heart flutters full of love and fear.
