Awash in black waters, Kaspian was soaked but alive. His throat ached where Henryk’s boot had nearly crushed his windpipe.
As the waters receded, Henryk’s body lay on the ground like a broken toy. His sightless eyes stared up at the dark night sky. Henryk was dead.
Brygida stood over his body, panting for breath, and Kaspian stood up on swaying feet. Demons flanked her, the forest steamed, and beyond them, Lord Granat’s army pushed back those cultists who continued to fight even though their leader was gone.
Brygida came over to him and took his hand in hers.
The receding water revealed the rusałki, crowned with grass and dark wet hair, whose skeletal hands gathered Henryk up.
Brygida bowed her head, and joining the rusałki, she took Henryk’s body and followed the tide of water back toward the forest.
“Is it really over?” His voice was not much more than a croak.
“Yes, he’s gone,” Brygida whispered. Demons trailed her to the forest. At the forest’s edge, she paused, peering at her feet before looking ahead to the rusałki. The goat demon stopped beside her, tossing its enormous sharp-toothed head.
As one, the rusałki looked over their shoulders at her and nodded.
Brygida stepped over the threshold, and the demons with her dissipated like morning mist.
A new day, a fresh start.
“I can come home,” she said softly, gasping her relief, and wiped at her face.
He canted his head. “Does that mean you’re staying—”
“You’re alive!” Stefan was covered in blood, but ran to them, splashing through muddy puddles. When he reached them, he threw his arms around their necks, bringing them both into a three-way embrace.
As they did, a downpour fell from the sky overhead.
“I don’t know why I insist on protecting the two of you when you seem so damned determined to get me killed,” Stefan said as rain streamed over his face, washing away the blood and dirt.
Brygida tilted her head back, letting the rainwater run over her face and soak her hair. Kaspian pulled them both close as a laugh escaped his lips. They’d done it. After all they’d been through, all three of them had made it out alive.
Behind Stefan, Lord Granat’s army surrounded the cultists. Henryk was dead. The battle was won. The village was safe.
Brygida popped her head up, her violet eyes gleaming alight. She ducked under Stefan’s arm and ran toward Lord Granat’s army.
There, Ewa and Liliana tended the wounds of the injured, of which there were many. Among them were Roksana’s parents, who—other than a few scrapes—looked unharmed. Brygida tackled her mothers, who hugged her back, looking her over.
Under the shroud of night, Liliana had ridden a black wave with an army of rusałki, but in the light of the new dawn, she appeared the same as ever.
“I’m not sure I can make sense of what I saw in the night,” he confessed to Stefan, who shrugged.
“Brygida called a horde of demons, her one mother turned into a rusałka, and her other mother shot people in the face with arrows. And an army came when most of the work was done to clean up,” Stefan summarized.
Kaspian rolled his eyes. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably be dead, in case you’re handing out accolades.” Stefan dragged a bloodied arm across his forehead and sniffed. At least it didn’t seem to be his blood.
All jesting aside, Stefan had acquitted himself capably, more so even than some of the guards. “Are you looking to become a man-at-arms?”
Another shrug. “Does it pay more?”
Together, they made their way to where Lord Granat had gathered all the cultists who had surrendered, but covered in mud and ash, they were difficult to tell apart.
Lord Granat, Nikodem, and Urszula were ordering soldiers and organizing the line of cultists who had been captured. Brygida joined him, and then Nikodem came over with her, his helmet under his arm.
If she was with Nikodem, he shouldn’t push any boundaries. If it hadn’t been for Granat’s reinforcements, then the cultists might have turned the tide against them.
The grim reality was that he had survived, but many more hadn’t been so lucky. The dead were strewn across the battlefield, rain washing away the blood and mingling it with the mud.
“All of the cultists have been captured. What do you believe we should do with them?” Nikodem, his golden hair soaked in blood and his leather jerkin slashed in multiple places, had clearly seen battle.
The inquisitors, who’d done the worst to innocent people and the witches, should pay for what they’d done. But for the rest, he was less certain. They’d all fallen under Henryk’s spell, deceived by his clever words, and had their beliefs twisted to meet his own ends. They didn’t deserve to pay for Henryk’s crimes, at least not lethally.
But this wasn’t just his decision to make. It wasn’t just he who’d been hunted and persecuted by the Cult of Weles.
“What do you say?” Kaspian asked Brygida.
Brygida looked across the sea of people in front of them, her violet eyes thoughtful. “I say we show them mercy. It is not our place to decide who lives and who dies. Let them redeem themselves and repay the evil they’ve done with good.”
He nodded. Punishing these people who’d fallen under Henryk’s spell would only breed more hatred, and punishing them too harshly would cause more divisions among the people of Nizina. Let the stain of the Cult of the Weles end with Henryk.
They had cut off the head off the serpent; no more needed to die. It was over.
With Brygida and Stefan behind him, he stepped up to face the assembled people.
“Your leader is dead,” Kaspian announced, echoed by a sudden thunder that accompanied the proclamation, as if Perun himself was here to ensure justice would be done.
The inquisitors wailed, some collapsing into the mud, but the rest looked on with gaping mouths.
“My brother twisted your thoughts and actions, fueled by his own greed, hatred, and prejudice. For what you did by his command, I should see all of you executed for your crimes.”
There was a general outcry, voices rising up, begging for mercy. Only the inquisitors in their high-collared black uniforms continued to cry, pleading for the Darkness to save them. The hearts of men and women were weak and easily swayed; Henryk had seen that and twisted it to his own ends. Seeing the fear on these people’s faces, he knew they could be saved.
Kaspian held up his hand to silence them. The voices trailed off but for the wailing of the inquisitors. “But I believe hatred and vengeance breed only more of the same. And therefore I will give you this one chance. Put down your weapons, and repent your misdeeds. Dedicate your lives to the temples of Mokosza and Perun.”
There was a pause, a few heart beats, as he waited for the cultists who surrounded them to decide what they would do.
As the rain poured down, one by one they removed the last remnants of the pins and trappings of the Cult of Weles. This was only the beginning of the hatred and fear that had been the perfect breeding ground for this cult. It could not be healed by one speech, but it was a start. And like the burning of a field affected by blight, he would do whatever was necessary to make sure that the Cult of Weles never returned.
The prisoners were taken away. The work had only just begun; there were bodies of the fallen to tend and the injured to be treated. There would be much to rebuild, but for now he was satisfied.
Liliana and Ewa approached, and Brygida threw her arms around them once more. Seeing her reunited with her mothers at last made his heart swell. As much as they’d lost, at least she was back where she belonged.
Stefan patted his shoulder before joining the restoration efforts, and he was prepared to join him when Liliana called out to him.
“Don’t go.” Liliana beckoned him closer.
Kaspian approached them cautiously. The three of them stood together, hands clasped, a family reunited once more.
“Thank you both for your help today. I am forever in your debt.” Hate and misunderstanding of the witches had led them here, but going forward he would make sure they had a place among his people. The villagers and the witches would better understand each other.
“There’s no need to thank us. Isn’t that right, Ewa?” Liliana gave her a sly look.
Ewa cleared her throat. “Yes. If you had not come to warn us or fight to protect us...” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I misjudged you, and I’m sorry.”
His throat caught; he hadn’t realized just how much he’d desired her approval. Perhaps it was too late for him and Brygida, since she had Nikodem, but maybe it would make relations between the village and the witches easier. “You don’t need to thank me. We are all one community, after all.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Just take the compliment,” Ewa groused.
“Ewa—” Liliana scolded, hands on her hips.
And Ewa gave him a rare smile, perhaps the first one he’d ever seen from her. “You’re a good man, and will be a great lord.”
Brygida and Liliana beamed at him, as if this moment wasn’t surreal enough to hear those words from Ewa. He felt as if he were moving through a waking dream.
“Thank you.” He bowed his head to them, unsure of what else to do.
“And Brygida, the time has come. You can return home,” Liliana said. “If it is your wish, you may rededicate yourself to Mokosza.”
It was a bittersweet moment. Everything was returning to how it had been, everything in its place, she back in her world, and he in his.
“I will rededicate myself to Mokosza.” Brygida held out her hand to him. “And I’d like Kaspian to witness it.”
He did a double take, and Ewa frowned.
“Why not?” Liliana replied with a happy shrug, looking at him inquisitively.
He blinked a few times before nodding slowly. “Yes, it would be my honor.”
As Brygida crossed into her witchlands, she hesitated, if only for a moment. Turning up her palm, she looked down at the crescent-shaped mark. It remained. But as she got closer, the whispered voices of the wood filled her mind.
She pressed her hand against an oak, felt the pulse of the forest. The lifeblood of the sacred witchlands. And although it felt restless, it was the tossing and turning of a forest going back to sleep. Weles’s mark remained, but her witchlands had accepted her, and now she was ready to rededicate herself to her goddess.
Mama and Mamusia went ahead, while Kaspian hung back with her.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
She smiled at him. It felt like just yesterday when the two of them had wandered these woods together, daydreaming and thinking nothing could ever divide them. Perhaps they hadn’t been all that wrong, as here they were, undivided.
There was a smudge on Kaspian’s cheek and a hollow to his cheeks, a darkness that lingered around him—the mantle of the heavy burden upon him as the lord of Rubin, and perhaps the truth that his brother was dead. But beneath all that was the painter she remembered that day in the forest, who’d first approached her with awe and wonder.
She could not imagine doing this without him by her side.
In the shadows tucked between two oaks, Matoha regarded her, his red eyes trained upon her. He bowed his head.
“One moment.” Excusing herself, she jogged over to Matoha.
You’ve passed your challenge and earned a place among these sacred witchlands, Matoha spoke into her mind. Perhaps she was just imagining it, but there was a certain pride to his voice.
From the beginning, Matoha had been beside her, urging her to use her dark power, whispering about vengeance and blood. And each time she had resisted the temptation to kill without regard, without thought to the cost of human life. Had it been her challenge all along?
Matoha demons were known to punish witches who harmed the innocent, and while the Cult of Weles had been evil, not all of its followers had. Some had been coerced, some brainwashed, and others too feeble minded to fight back. Many had died for it, but the power of the truth had prevailed.
“But the mark is still here.” Brygida looked to Matoha, holding up her hand.
And so it shall remain for the rest of your days. You are no longer just a servant of Mokosza but of one of her consorts—Weles—also. And as Mokosza goes from Perun to Weles and back again, so you shall live a split life in both light and shadow.
Brygida looked back at Kaspian, who stared at Matoha with wide eyes.
Matoha bowed his horned head once more before disappearing into the forest.
Up ahead, Mama and Mamusia waited. If they had seen Matoha, they’d given no indication of it.
“What was that demon saying to you?” Kaspian asked her.
“He’s been a sort of guide, you could say, and he came to say goodbye.” She wasn’t quite sure what it meant to live in the light and shadow. But Mokosza did have two consorts, Perun—with whom She spent the spring and summer—and Weles, with whom She spent the fall and winter.
If she was to believe Matoha, her life would also be split between two worlds. But she wasn’t sure in what way the gods would call her, not yet.
He nodded. “You must be glad to come home to your mothers. Will you stay here with them or leave with Nikodem?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure yet. I will see how Mokosza guides me, but I would like to stay close to my mothers.” She wasn’t sure what Nikodem had to do with any of this, however.
“Well, if you choose to stay, Nikodem will be disappointed, I’m sure,” Kaspian continued.
She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose, but the witchlands I was on were not mine. I am a Mrok witch.” She had calmed Anita’s witchlands as best she could, but that wood hadn’t chosen her; someday, it would choose its own witch.
Kaspian cleared his throat. “Yes, but it is difficult to be away from those we love.”
Did he mean her mothers? Well, at home, she wouldn’t have to be away from them, except when she’d spend time with him, if he were receptive.
It was a strange topic of conversation. She thought now that the battle was over and they had a few moments together, they might talk as they once had, but he kept insisting on talking about Nikodem...
“I mean, it would be difficult to be away from Nikodem, since you’re in love with him.” He gestured wildly with his hand.
Brygida barked a laugh. “No. I am not in love with him!”
Kaspian’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “You’re not together?”
“No.” She shook her head. “We are friends.”
Kaspian blinked, again and again, and then he laughed loudly. “I assumed when you arrived together, and you dressed in noble fashion, that the two of you were... Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now.” He looked at her sheepishly through lowered lashes.
He’d thought she and Nikodem were lovers? Her cheeks heated.
Certainly, Nikodem was a handsome enough man, but her heart hadn’t spoken to him the way it had to Kaspian. Not that he would’ve needed the affections of a witch, with those of his lover and his wife already.
Kaspian straightened. “Oh! And I’m not betrothed to Nina.”
She grinned broadly. “I know that.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “Yes. I assumed you said that to protect her from Henryk, or in the hopes of doing so. Nina hadn’t been at the manor, nor looked at you with any sort of affection, and of course, Lady Rubin already told me how lonely you’ve been.”
His lips pressed together into a thin line as his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He dropped his gaze. “I’m not sure whether to feel embarrassed or thankful.”
Probably thankful. It wasn’t always easy to discuss one’s feelings, or even identify them, so his mother had simplified matters greatly. And besides, there was no reason to be embarrassed by loneliness. She’d often felt it growing up and still did. Should that have been embarrassing?
A pair of birds flitted onto a nearby branch, chirping happily as she Kaspian passed beneath them with Kaspian.
“You can feel both, if you wish.” She took his hand and pulled him flush against her side. “Tell me what else you feel.”
He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Relief. Joy—”
“Love?”
He grinned at her, and it was as if the sun were coming out from behind the clouds. “Yes. Love.”
Good. If they both felt the same, then it would make enjoying their lives together so much easier.
As they made their way through the forest, arm in arm, the voices of the wood and the whispers of demons spoke to her, together creating their own unique harmony.
At last, they reached the center of the forest. Here, the air shimmered and glowed.
The Hallow was a sacred place where the veil between the worlds of the living and the gods was at its thinnest. She had first visited this place when she’d had her first blood. It was then that she had dedicated her life to Mokosza, and today she would do so again.
She gave Kaspian’s hand a squeeze as Mamusia embraced Mama, clinging tightly to one another before slowly letting go. And then Mamusia held out her hand to Brygida, and they stepped beyond the barrier into the Hallow together.
In this place, the air was charged and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Sunlight fell through the canopy, dappling the small pool of water fed from an underground spring.
Brygida knelt at the water’s edge. Across from the pool was a flower, half its petals in shadow, the other half reaching for the sun.
Together, she and Mamusia dipped their hands into the cold crystal-clear water and brought it to their lips, drinking down its comfort. And when she looked up, a spider rappelled down from above.
Perhaps it was Mokosza Herself come to greet her, or just Her messenger; either way it was a good sign. She was home and back exactly where she belonged—on her witchlands.
“You’ve done well, Brygida. I knew you would.” Mamusia put an arm around her shoulder as they watched the spider spin its web.
Brygida leaned on Mamusia’s shoulder, inhaling her lavender scent. She felt as if she was home at last.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” She sat up. “How did you rally the rusałki?”
Mamusia gave Brygida her typical effervescent smile. “I begged for their aid, and they gave it in exchange for my nights. Each night, I must return to the water and join our ancestors there. That was their price.”
Her chest tightened. The long nights without Mamusia humming at her loom, without her and Mama’s chatter amongst themselves, would be cold.
“I have made my peace with it. I would have given up much, much more for your sake.” Mamusia stroked Brygida’s head, and she leaned into Mamusia’s touch.
If Mamusia hadn’t been willing to give it, then more lives would have been lost. Brygida leaned her head against Mamusia’s shoulder again. Perhaps that was the nature of life. In all darkness there was light, and even in the light there was dark. And as she walked this path forward, she would do so not alone, but with the love and support of her family and the man she loved.
She turned away from the Hallow as she and Mamusia rose. Outside, Kaspian waited, holding out a hand for her.
At long last, she had found her place, the space between the two worlds where they could exist.
She took his hand.