Not even the irritating jolts of the carriage, made worse by the lack of an Elisian road, could pull her away from her thoughts. How did Elinde Ivanove's story connect to Lissa's and her mysterious hunter? Could it all be mere coincidence? A whim of fate? Or perhaps... a hereditary folly among the Ivanove women? The resemblance between their lives was too striking to ignore, even if they belonged to the same family.
Resemblance...
Ninka recalled a dream she had before she started posing as Lissa.
"Mother, do you think my great-aunt Elinde truly looks like me?"
Ninka ventured, her gaze following the movement of the fields outside the carriage window.
"Well, you've seen her portraits in the castle, haven't you?"
Evonia replied absentmindedly, adjusting the delicate brooch at her collar.
"It's true that she was the first in the family to have hair like yours, but I'd say you're far more beautiful, my flower. Your chin is more delicate, more perfect. A gift from your mother, of course."
She winked playfully.
"But, well, I've never seen her in person. Seems she doesn't care enough about family to leave Velcarnia and visit Lesgrad... not even for her own brother's funeral."
Could it be that her dreams were conjuring the image of Elinde Ivanove instead of Lissa? Someone she had never met or even heard of? Her recent dreams had already proven to be anything but ordinary. And yet... why her? The carriage swayed gently as it crossed the old wooden bridge spanning the Aquerum. Below, the river flowed cold and serene, reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. The golden light spread across the rippling surface like a silent promise as Ninka spotted the village entrance about ten meters ahead.
"Mother, would you mind dropping me off at the village?"
she asked suddenly.
"I'll return to the castle on my own."
"Absolutely not! Have you lost your senses, my flower? Wandering among the common folk unescorted, especially with the sun setting?"
Evonia's voice rang firm, laced with both concern and authority.
"You don't truly believe someone would harm me,"
Ninka countered, trying to sound confident.
"I do, and I must. My child, you have no idea what peasants are capable of when drunk on ignorance, superstition, and fear. Have you already forgotten the trouble your last little adventure among them caused? And what exactly do you intend to do there?"
"You mentioned that old crippled woman who lives on the charity of the villagers. I want to give her one of the blankets we bought in Kustovka."
"And why would you do that?"
"Because she seems to be the oldest person in the village, and I imagine many seek her out for counsel and guidance. Earning her favor might help put an end to these rumors of a curse on me."
Evonia raised an intrigued eyebrow, studying her daughter with a critical gaze.
"Hmm... yes, that does make sense."
She paused briefly before continuing, still scrutinizing Ninka.
"But I must say, this is the first time I've seen you do something with ulterior motives."
In truth, Ninka had another reason in mind: to find out from old Miroslava whether Valeria had noticed her absence and, if so, how she had reacted. That way, she could decide whether to continue pretending to be Lissa or return to her true self and go home. Still, her excuses were taking a toll on the character she was playing.
"I just want to resolve this as soon as possible, Mother. I don't want you to be worrying about me all the time."
"Worrying about you is my duty, my dear."
Evonia sighed, her tone softening, though the caution in her eyes remained.
"Here's what we'll do: as far as I know, the widow's house is near the village entrance. You'll go to her while I stop the carriage there. That way, I can keep an eye on you while you carry out your little act of kindness."
Ninka nodded.
It wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was the best she could manage for now.
Shortly after the wooden wheel touched solid ground again, Ninka stepped down from the carriage. She retrieved the blanket from the trunk and made her way toward old Miroslava's house, almost physically feeling Evonia's gaze drilling into the back of her neck as she walked.
The widow lived in the seventh house along the Aquerum's edge from the village entrance. Like many elderly folk who no longer cared for appearances, Miroslava's home was undoubtedly the most neglected in the area, making it easy to spot. Still, to Ninka, that place held many memoriesâalmost like a second home.
She knocked a few times and heard the sluggish response from within:
"I'm coming... I'm coming... Patience, whoever you are!"
When the old woman finally opened the door, her face was lighthearted at first. But within seconds, her expression shifted to one of shock. Miroslava cast a quick glance inside, filled with unease, before turning back to her visitor. She seemed to struggle to find the right words.
"Lady Ivanove, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"I came to bring you a gift. I heard that you..."
"You!"
A firm voice interrupted from inside. Before she could react, Ninka saw Valeria step through the doorway, her eyes burning with determination.
"Tell me where my daughter is!"
"I don'tâ"
"Don't lie to me!"
Valeria took a step forward, her tone cutting.
"The boy told me you've been using her for your schemes."
Damn that rusty little traitor! Ninka fumed, her face burning with anger.
"I assure you, she is safe, wherever she may be,"
she tried, keeping her voice steady.
"Wherever she may be?"
Valeria's voice sharpened.
"Do you really think you can play with our lives as you please?"
"I was only trying to ease your mind, madam. Ninka knows howâ"
"I will be at ease when you and yours leave my family alone."
With every word, Valeria took another step toward the girl, her eyes blazing with a mixture of grief and fury.
"Valeria, dear, please, calm yourself,"
Miroslava pleaded, her voice trembling with apprehension.
By now, the villagers had begun gathering around, drawn by the commotion.
"Where is my daughter!?"
Valeria's voice cut through the air, laced with a desperation Ninka had never imagined seeing in her mother. She needed to find the right wordsâsomething, anything that could quell the storm before the situation spiraled even further out of control. But in the chaos of the moment, her voice failed her.
All she could do was watch, powerless, as Evonia's carriage approached with her escort.
"Please, you need to go home."
Ninka pleaded, urgency stifling the tremor in her voice.
"Answer me, you cursed thing!"
But it was too late. One of the Ivanove guards pushed through the crowd of peasants, seizing Valeria's hair with brutal force.
"I always knew you were a wretch, but I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to openly defy my daughter."
Evonia's voice rang sharp as she strode toward the subdued woman, her gaze dripping with disdain.
"Especially without my husband's soft heart here to save your hide again."
Ninka felt the ground collapse beneath her. How was she supposed to fix this? The question pounded in her mind like a maddened swarm, while the world around her seemed to slow, each second stretching unbearably under the weight of her dread. And yet, no answer came.
"Are you all right, my dear? Did that viper harm you? Did she?"
Evonia asked, her expression shifting into a image of exaggerated concern as she turned to her daughter.
"I... I'm fine. It was all a misunderstanding."
"No, my flower. There's no misunderstanding when it comes to that deceitful witch."
"The young lady speaks the truth, your ladyship. It was all a misunderstanding,"
Miroslava interjected, her hand grasping Evonia's wrist in a silent plea. She tried to wrench herself free, her face twisting in a grimace of revulsion that seemed to rise from the very depths of her soul. But when that failed, exasperation took over, and with her free arm, she struck the old woman across the face with all the fury she could muster.
It wasn't a clean fallânot a swift collapse, but a disjointed, humiliating descent, as though even the ground recoiled from her.
"You're to blame for this as well, widow! You helped shape this creature!"
Evonia spat, her words dripping with loathing.
Ninka darted to the old woman's side, helping her regain some semblance of dignity, while the peasants around them stirred, whispering in uneasy murmurs.
The seething rage in Valeria's eyes seemed to lend her renewed strength as she struggled against the merciless grip holding her down.
"Bastard!"
Valeria shouted, her voice a raw blend of fury and desperation.
"You can't treat us like this! I am an Elisian citizen!"
Evonia let out a cold, bitter laugh.
"Oh, is that so? Then why, pray tell, is your illustrious self not sipping tea with the emperor, but rotting in this wretched hovel at the edge of the civilized world?"
"It's you and your accursed familyâtainted by Milos' bloodâwho should leave this place! Before you bring ruin upon us all!"
Valeria screamed for audience to hear. The murmurs of the gathered peasants swelled, thick with superstition and the undercurrent of fearâan acrid scent Evonia could almost taste in the air. Her face, however, did not twist in rage. Instead, a dark, almost deathly expression settled upon her features.
"Sir Bosko, if you would, hand me your mace."
The captain of the guard hesitated, his eyes betraying an inner conflict. But in the end, he relented, placing the weapon into Evonia's waiting hands.
"Mother! Please, no!"
Ninka pleaded, her voice trembling.
"Sir, take my daughter to the carriage. Get her out of here."
"I'm not leaving!"
"Perhaps it's best that you stay. I don't want you growing up with your father's weak heart."
With a simple nod, Evonia gave her command. The guard restraining Valeria responded immediately, driving his boot into the back of her legs and forcing her to the ground, knees hitting the dirt.
She lunged for her motherâbut Sir Bosko caught her arm before she could move another step. The blow came without hesitation. The mace crashed down with brutal force, striking Valeria between the eyes and temple. Her head snapped violently to the side, her body crumpling like a puppet whose strings had been severed. For a moment, she seemed unconscious. Then, slowly, her eyes fluttered open. The defiance was gone. Her shoulders slumped, her posture hollowed by defeat. The face that had burned with fury only moments ago was now a canvas of crimson and deep purple, her left eye swallowed by a terrifying shade of red.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Ninka shoved Sir Bosko harder than she had intended, but caught off guard, he did not resist. She strode toward Evonia, battling the rising urge to throw her to the ground and strangle herâperhaps even smash her head against one of the nearby stones. Instead, she reached for Evonia's wristâthe one still clutching the maceâwith a touch surprisingly gentle.
"Mother, we should exile her,"
she murmured, her voice low and restrained.
"No, my dear. She must serve as an example,"
Evonia replied firmly, not even sparing Ninka a glance.
"My lady, if I may,"
Sir Bosko interjected, stepping forward with rigid posture.
"The young mistress may have a point. This woman holds a measure of respect among the peasants. If she were executed, she could become a martyr, and that would only lend more strength to the lies she spreads."
Evonia seemed to consider his words for a moment. Frustration and calculation flickered across her face, but neither expression settled into satisfaction. At last, she leaned in slightly toward Valeria's crumpled form.
"Listen well, viper. You will leave Lesgrad tonight. And know thisâif you ever set foot on my land again, I will give the order for your immediate execution. No warnings. No mercy."
Valeria barely seemed to register the words, her gaze unfocused and lost.
"You and you,"
Evonia continued, pointing first to the guard restraining Valeria and then to another man standing nearby.
"Take her to her lair so she can gather whatever she needs. Then escort her to the Elisian road. If she resists, use force."
The two men took hold of Valeria, guiding her by the arms as she walked toward the cabin at the forest's edge, her movements vacant, her stare hollow. The villagers, sensing that their lady's attention was no longer fixed upon the so-called witch, began to disperse. Like a fire smothered by ash, the commotion faded into silence.
âââ
When Ninka returned to the Ivanove castle, she claimed to be unwell after the day's turmoil and withdrew to Lissa's chamber. Evonia, perhaps satisfied that her daughter had learned something about firmness, did not protest.
Inside the room, Ninka shed her elegant dress, replacing it with a simpler oneâsomething she deemed less conspicuous. Then, she called upon her shapeshifting ability. She chose a modest appearance: a young castle maid, small in stature, no older than sixteen, with unremarkable features that would be easy to overlook.
As she crossed the gate, one of the guards called out.
"Hey there, sweetheart, where are you sneaking off to at this hour?"
"None of your business,"
Ninka shot back, not even glancing at him, her tone curt to cut the conversation short.
The other guard let out a coarse laugh.
"Last night in the hay, you weren't so skittish!"
Ninka merely shrugged, ignoring their remarks, and kept walking.
Passing through the village was unavoidable, but first, she decided to make a quick stop at the old cabin of the late Casmir. She needed to retrieve her belongings before moving on. At this hour, the old dwelling lived up to its haunted reputation. The place felt ominous, with sinuous shadows dancing along the walls, but Ninka was more concerned with the living than the dead.
She pushed open the windows to clear out the stale air and set the lantern she had brought atop a worn tree stumpâlikely used as a seat by the cabin's former occupant. When her fingers brushed against the old dress stored thereâsimple and practical, with coarse stitching but warm and comfortableâa torrent of memories surged through her.
It was the garment of the peasant girl who had once, in her naïve hope, believed she could save her well-born friend. Not only had she failed, but in a way, she had also contributed to her own mother's downfall.
Not that Ninka saw herself as the sole culprit behind Valeria's fate. Her bitterness and resentment had worked against her in ways both sad and inevitable. Still, if she had paid less heed to Lissa's mischief and instead honored the promise she had made to her fatherâto look after her motherâperhaps things would have turned out differently.
Enough of this brooding. Valeria needed her, and she would not fail her father again. Closing her eyes, she focused on the image she needed to recreate: the blue hair, the thin frame, the small beauty mark above her left eye. She felt the warmth envelop her, followed by a shiver and a brief sting of pain.
Then, she opened her eyes.
"You! You're a real witch!"
Ivan's voice rang out suddenly.
She spun toward him at once.
"What the hell are you doing here, you rusty disaster?"
she shot back, alarmed.
"I... I... Well, actually, I was looking for you. Then I saw light coming from old Casmir's cabin and figured... Well, I thought I should check."
"Looking for me? Haven't you done enough damage already? Lissa, my mother..."
Ivan lowered his gaze, uneasy.
"So you already know what happened,"
he murmured.
"She came to me, asked where you might be, and I... I thought it best to tell her what I knew. I'm sorry."
"Sorry."
A word Ninka had never imagined coming from his mouth. And yet, there it was.
"It doesn't matter. And I don't have time to waste on you anyway,"
she said, already heading for the door.
"Wait, I'm coming with you."
She stopped abruptly and turned, staring at him in disbelief.
"Excuse me?"
"You'll have to leave Lesgrad, right? I know a merchant in Kustovka. He has a wagon and owes my father some favors I can call in. Depending on where you need to go, that could be a big help."
Ninka hesitated. She didn't know what to say. A thank you, perhaps, would have been appropriate, but the thought of directing those words at him felt... strange.
"Unless you two can turn into birds andâ"
Ninka simply walked past the door and kept going without a backward glance. As expected, Ivan wasn't far behind.
"Hey! I have no idea what witches are capable of. I just saw you change your entire appearance. I'm still doubting my own eyes."
"I can't turn into animals,"
Ninka replied flatly, keeping her gaze fixed on the path home.
"No? What a disappointment! So just into other people?"
"Yes."
"Can you turn into a man?"
Ninka clenched her fists for a moment, irritation simmering. Then she exhaled and answered, almost resignedly:
"Yes and no."
"Yes or no?"
Ivan repeated, confused.
She halted briefly, shooting him a look that all but asked, Why do I even bother explaining? Then she resumed walking and finally spoke.
"I can reshape what I already have into a different version of itself, but I can't create something from nothing. For example, I can make my arm look exactly like yours, but I can't turn it into a wing."
Ivan seemed to ponder for a moment.
"Oh, I get it! You can't turn a hollow into a mast!"
Ninka let out a long, frustrated sigh. Then, to her own surprise, she chuckled softly, a hint of incredulity in her voice.
"You know what? Yeah... something like that. I doubt I could come up with a better explanation for you anyway."
Ivan spent the rest of the walk asking absurd questions, like:
"Can you curse someone to shit sardines for seven days?"
Or:
"Can you turn a chicken eggâpoop and allâinto a golden one?"
Lacking the patience to argue, Ninka answered strategicallyâsometimes lying for the sheer comedic relief, other times to make him afraid of provoking her again.
By the time they reached their destination, a shock awaited them. Where the pinewood cabin should have been, there was nothing but ashes.
"What the hell?!"
Ivan exclaimed, dumbfounded.
Ninka stepped forward slowly, taking in the sight of her destroyed home. The blackened wood still radiated heat. The fire had consumed the cabin but spared the surrounding forest. Embers hissed in a final lament, releasing thick, black smoke that curled into the cold air.
She stepped into what remained of the structure, searching for any clue about what had happened.
"Ninka, I... I think I see a leg under that beam,"
Ivan muttered, hesitantly pointing.
Following his gaze, she spotted bodies among the wreckage. The chainmail had fused with the fabric beneath, now melded to charred flesh. Soot-covered armor lay twisted and misshapen from the heat. An outstretched arm still clutched the remains of a sword, its blade warped beyond recognition.
"They're the Ivanove men who were escorting your mother. I think that one was called Erik,"
Ivan said, cautiously stepping closer. Ninka's stomach churned. A bitter nausea rose in her throat as she staggered toward a nearby tree, gripping the trunk to steady herself. The acidic burn of bile lingered as she covered her mouth.
"Are you okay?"
Ivan asked, concern in his voice.
"She's not among them,"
she answered, trying to mask her discomfort.
"I need to find her."
"Where could she have gone?"
"I... I don't know."
Ivan replied.
Determined, Ninka began circling the ruins, her gaze scanning the ground. After a few moments, she stopped, eyes locked onto something in the dirt.
"Here. She left a trail,"
she said, relief creeping into her voice.
"Where?"
Ivan asked, squinting in confusion.
"Right here! Look at this footprint."
Ivan leaned in, furrowing his brow.
"Whoa. I wouldn't have noticed that even if my life depended on it."
"My father taught me how to track animals in this forest. Following a person will be much easier."
"Why would she go into the woods?"
"I don't know, but I don't have time to guess."
Without another word, Ninka started toward the tree line.
"Wait! It's not a good idea to go in now. Let's wait until sunrise,"
Ivan said, grabbing her arm.
"She's injured and alone out there. I won't sit around and wait for the worst to happen. Or do you just carry that axe for show?"
Ivan never went anywhere without the axe he had forged under his father's guidance. It was a simple tool, Hellanian in style, light enough to be wielded with one hand and easy to carry on the belt of a fourteen-year-old boy. Now, his hand rested on the handle, but he said nothing.
"Well, I'm going. You do whatever you want,"
Ninka declared firmly and marched forward.
As expected, Ivan followed.
âââ
The darkness of the night wrapped the forest in a thick, silent shroud. The full moon, occasionally visible through the canopy, cast restless shadows over the leaf-strewn ground. Ninka moved with the ease of someone who knew the terrain well, her trained eyes scanning every detail for signs. The urgency of finding her mother only heightened her awareness.
Ivan followed close behind, trying to appear confident, though his face betrayed his unease. His hand remained firm on the axe handle at his belt, making him feel both protector and protected. The cold wind cut against their skin, whispering through the trees as if carrying ancient secrets.
"Stop breathing so loud. Are you sick or something?"
Ninka snapped.
"Why? You think the beowulfs can hear us?"
Ivan asked, startled.
"There are no beowulfs in this part of the forest,"
she replied, not taking her eyes off the ground.
"Are you sure we're on the right trail?"
he pressed, trying to keep his voice steady despite the cold biting at his hands and face.
"Yes,"
Ninka said, pointing to broken twigs near the underbrush.
"Look hereâValeria came through this way."
Ivan leaned in to examine the sign, frowning.
"You call your mother by her name?"
"Isn't that what names are for?"
Ninka retorted, impatience creeping into her tone.
"Weird."
"Shut up and keep walking."
They pressed on, pushing through shadowed clearings and dense thickets. With each new clueâa footprint in the soft earth, a crushed leaf, a mark on a tree's barkâNinka's heart pounded faster, certain she was getting closer.
Ivan followed her lead, trusting her tracking skills. Despite the prevailing silence, he did his best to lighten the mood with his usual remarks.
"You know, I once tried tracking a rabbit..."
he started, a half-smirk on his face.
"But the damn thing was mocking me. In the end, it was just sitting on a rock, watching me. I swear I could hear it thinking, 'Blind fool, I'm right here.'"
Ninka shot him an impatient look but didn't reply. After hours of walking without rest, she suddenly stopped. Ivan, caught off guard, nearly bumped into her but managed to step back in time.
As they reached the edge of a clearing, Ninka's heartbeat thundered in her chest. The scene before her was eerily familiarâidentical to the ones she had seen in her most unsettling nightmare.
"What?"
Ivan muttered, frowning as he noticed her sudden unease. At the center of the clearing, shrouded in an unnatural mist, stood a cave. Its entrance yawned open, dark and damp, with moss clinging to the surrounding rocks. Moonlight reflected off the slick surfaces in an eerie, pale sheen.
But what stood out the most was the group of villagers gathered before the cave. They were motionless, their eyes locked onto the entrance as if hypnotized. Their blank expressions and vacant gazes made them look as if they were trapped in a dreamâor under a spell.
Among them, Ninka spotted her mother. The shock stole her breath for a moment. Valeria was walking slowly toward the cave.
"Mother! Stop!"
Ninka cried out, desperate.
The cry echoed through the clearing. To her surprise, Valeria stopped and turned toward her. Unlike the other villagers, her eyes seemed lucid.
"Ninka?"
Valeria asked, disbelief lacing her voice.
"Where have you been? How did you get here?"
She strode toward her, her steps quick but hesitant. She stopped in front of her daughter and studied her with an almost unsettling intensity, like someone searching for flaws in a rare work of art. After a long, awkward silence, Valeria let out a deep sigh. Then, in an unexpected gesture, she embraced her daughter for the first time in almost a decade. Ninka stood frozen, too stunned to react.
But after a few seconds, she allowed herself to relax and returned the embrace. When the moment passed, Ninka stepped back slightly, her eyes locked on her mother's face. She searched for signs of change, for a woman transformedâbut all she found was a brutal reminder of recent suffering. Valeria's left eye was swollen, nearly shut, and a trail of dried blood cut across her cheek, mingling with sweat. The skin around the wound was a mosaic of bruises in shades of purple, blue, and red.
"Valeri... Mother, why did you come here? What happened to our home?"
Ninka asked, urgency heavy in her voice.
"The Ivanoves drove us out ofâ"
"I know that. I want to know what happened to our house. And the men dead inside."
Valeria averted her gaze, her expression hardening.
"It doesn't matter. We need to leave this place, and we willâas soon as I finish what I came here to do."
As she spoke, her eyes finally landed on Ivan. She looked him up and down, a mixture of distrust and silent evaluation in her gaze.
"He wants to help,"
Ninka explained quickly.
"He'll get us transport out of Lesgrad."
Ivan, however, couldn't take his eyes off the unmoving peasants at the cave's entrance.
"What happened to them?"
he asked, pointing at the lifeless figures.
"The spirit claimed them,"
Valeria answered bluntly.
"How can we help them?"
Ivan insisted.
"We can't. It would be a waste of time. That village is doomed anyway."
"What?! What do you mean?!"
Ivan exclaimed, alarmed. Valeria shot him a sharp, unwavering look.
"Listen. You'll have to leave Lesgrad with us too. Once we're out of this cursed forest, find your family. Tell them to come with usâif they want to live."
Ivan looked caught between confusion and disbelief. But the weight in Valeria's voice left no room for doubt. At last, he answered:
"There's no one left. My mother died years ago. It's just my father, my brother, and me... and they were sent to serve Lord Ivanove at the Helleim border."
"Good. That makes things simpler. We're heading to the border anyway. You'll find your father there,"
Valeria said.
"The border? What are we going to do there?"
Ninka asked, suspicion lacing her tone.
"We're going to inform Andrej... Lord Ivanove of the disaster about to strike his lands,"
Valeria replied, stepping closer to her daughter. She lifted the strap of a fine leather satchel over Ninka's shoulder.
"I need you to hold this for me for a while."
"Whatâ"
Ninka started, but her words were cut off by a muffled cry of pain from her mother.
"Mother! Are you alright?"
Ninka grabbed Valeria's shoulders, alarmed.
"I'm fine. It was just... a sharp headache. Now wait here."
Valeria stepped away, pressing her left temple with one hand, and walked toward the mist shrouding the cave's entrance. Ninka wanted to protest, to question the recklessness of such a move, but before she could utter a word, her mother had already disappeared into the fog. A few seconds passed before Valeria reemerged, holding a peculiar object in her hands. It was a censer. The polished metal base supported a glass sphere, its lower half etched with intricate symbols. Tiny perforations at the top allowed wisps of white smoke to escape, blending seamlessly with the mist, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Before Ninka or Ivan could ask what it was, Valeria cast the object to the ground with disdain and crushed it beneath her heel, shattering it completely.
"I'm free,"
she murmured, closing her eyes and exhaling a deep breath of relief. But as she reopened them, her expression shiftedâfrom relief to surprise, then to something darker. A shadowed smile curled her lips.
"Seems the daughter will claim what is due before the mother."
Ninka followed her mother's gaze, a tight knot forming in her chest. Between the shoulders of the motionless peasants standing at the cave's entrance, she spotted familiar strands of pink hair.
"Lissa!"
She rushed toward Lissa, her steps hurriedâbut before she could reach her, Valeria stepped in front of her, eyes narrowed in accusation.
"In a hurry to return to your mistress? Haven't they used you enough for one day? Or do you have another scheme in motion?"
"No one is using anyone! She's my friend!"
Ninka shot back, her voice trembling with indignation.
"Your what?"
Valeria let out a sharp, derisive laugh.
"Do you think her kind sees you as anything more than a toy? Something to play with, then toss aside when they're done?"
"Mother, Lissa is not Evonia! And she has nothing to do with whatever happened between you and the Ivanoves!"
"I thought I had raised a daughter with more sense... But it seems the poisonous lies of those vipers have already seeped into you."
"I'm not reliving your past! And if we're talking about poisonous lies, what about the one you spread throughout the village about Lissa since she was a child? I've never seen something so petty done to someone so innocent!"
"Innocent?!"
Valeria's voice rose into a furious scream, and a drop of blood trickled from her nose, stark against her pale face.
"Look at me! Look at what they did to me! That abomination should have never been borâ"
Her voice cut off abruptly. Her entire body went rigid. Her eyes rolled back, and she began convulsing violently.
Ninka lunged forward, catching her mother before she collapsed, desperately trying to keep her from hurting herself further.
Ivan stood frozen, unsure of what to do.
The convulsions continuedâa harrowing, unending display of agony. Then, at last, the spasms ceased. Valeria lay still on the damp, cold ground. Her labored breathing grew shallow, weak, almost imperceptible.
Ninka held her tightly, eyes brimming with tears, as if sheer will alone could keep the life from slipping away. For the briefest moment, Valeria's gaze met hers. A heavy silence filled the clearing. Then, with a final breath, the light faded from her eyes, leaving only a lifeless void behind.
Ninka remained frozen. She could not accept what had just happened.