Chapter Text
“Not so far, Zara,” her brother called to her. She ignored him.
“Zara!”
Again, the only response she gave was a string of giggles mingling with the pitter-patter of her feet through the grass.
Misha gave a short huff, which induced more giggles from Zara; her brother’s impatience was easy to track.
“Zara, if you get lost, I’m not going to wait and search for you,” he vowed solemnly. “The witch of Duva will find you first, and you’ll become part of her scrumptious house of candy.”
Zara paused, turning around in time to see Misha with his arms folded over his broad chest. “Mama and Papa would be mad at you,” she began.
“Are you willing to bet on that?” he challenged.
“Yes.” Without another word, she scampered off once more.
She couldn’t hear Misha’s next huff of annoyance but knew it must have sounded. Instead, she heard breaking twigs and shifting leaves as he tramped on after her.
“We’re not that deep in the woods anyway,” she chirped, marching on. “I can see the coast through some of the branches. This isn’t exactly a dark, evil place, Misha.”
“That doesn’t mean big animals don’t live here,” he reminded her tiredly. His heavy footfalls sounded even from so far up ahead. “Big animals that love to gobble up little sisters who don’t listen.”
“I’ll throw mushrooms at them.” Zara shrugged, shifting the basket looped over her arm. They would have plenty for at least the next week after all the collecting she and Misha had done.
Misha rolled his eyes in a gesture so potent Zara didn’t need to see it to positively feel it. She snickered again, too thoroughly enjoying their antics. Deep down, she knew Misha enjoyed it too; she had caught sight of his fond grin out of the corner of her eye more than once.
They fell into a comfortable silence as Zara slowed her pace, listening contentedly to the wind dancing between leaves and the merry sound of deer leaping, unseen, through the bramble. Zara didn’t bother turning, knowing she’d see some sooner or later, with how loud and bold they’d grown. She didn’t want to startle any with any sudden, different movements.
After all the tales of Sankta Alina, garbed in a kefta of sunlight, golden visage framed by radiant stag antlers, wrist glittering with a sea dragon’s scales, Zara wanted to see creatures that even only somewhat resembled what the Sun Queen used to vanquish the shadows.
Zara’s own eyes grew starry as the Sun Queen’s benevolent smile must have looked as she thought about it, daydreamed about being the one enduring candle flame in an otherwise endless night. One flick of her finger and all the world was aglow…
Zara waved her arms, whistling sounds escaping from between her lips, imagining rays of sunlight piercing tree trunks and causing grass to smoke from the heat. Maybe sunspots would dance before the eyes of all her adoring worshippers, so no one could even fully comprehend her ethereal grace.
How Zara wished she could be like that, like a real hero. Armies of monsters would fall with just a single flourish. People would look up to her and count on her. And oh, her parents would boast of their sweet, powerful little Grisha out in the world slaying volcra.
With a last “ ha! ” Zara punched at the air to unleash a wave of sunlight at her target. Only silence answered her.
She lowered her arms, immediately deflating back into her small, insignificant self. Yet she felt stronger just then, as if some of Sankta Alina’s light had stayed with her. She turned around to show some of this renewed confidence to Misha.
The path behind her was clear.
“Misha!” she called in her high, musical voice. Her eyes darted from left to right. “Misha, come back over here!” Zara padded over to where she’d last seen her brother, once more looking both ways.
Nothing.
Even the stomping and rustling from earlier had left the area.
Zara ignored her heart’s wish to start hammering, but still discomfort blossomed in her chest. “Misha, this isn’t funny.” Almost more than anything, she feared the attack he was bound to launch when he grew tired of his prank. Misha was a tall, wide figure, all quick bursts of strength from helping around the barn. She’d seen firsthand he wasn’t much good in a fight, primarily from lack of discipline. But he still knew how to leave an impact.
Zara tensed, ready for him to tackle her. The blow never came.
The forest sounded too quiet, the kind of subdued hush that falls over pray when a predator is in their midst. Zara became acutely aware of feeling eyes burning into the back of her neck.
She wheeled round with a squeak. There was nothing. But no sooner had she turned than she felt that same fearful trepidation again. Round and round she turned, feet sending her backpedaling, stumbling over twigs, pebbles, bumps, and holes. At last, Zara’s back hit against a tree and she yelped once more until her scrambling hands felt the bark.
Her sense of safety lasted maybe a moment until she was left once again as a lost little girl in the woods. Would the witch of Duva kill her before eating her? Or would she enchant her so Zara stayed alive and aware as she became part of her candied house?
Molten heat burned at her eyes before trickling down her cheeks. The forest swam before her from behind her tears. Both too fearful to move and too anxious to get the worst over with, Zara began to sob.
Unbidden a traitorous shred of hope welled in a deep recess of her heart, a faint chink of light too small to spread any change but so different from the black fear around her that it couldn’t help but stand out.
Misha will hear , she thought desperately. Misha will hear and know the prank is over and he has to come out now. Please, Misha, I promise I won’t tell Mama or Papa. I swear it on Sankta Alina’s scales and antlers - I swear on the very sun, please, Misha, the prank is over, you went too far but I won’t be mad if you come out now -
Zara’s broken sobs mingled with the still branches and growing shadows. Hands trembling, Zara wrenched them from her soaked face to perform some imitation of the prayers Mama would do each winter when snow threatened their livelihood. What Papa would act out before a cow gave birth. Hers was a sloppy rendition, interrupted by her fearful tremors and choked cries.
Sankta Alina will hear them anyway , she dared to think. Sankta Alina had heard Ravka’s cries as the Unsea ripped the land in two.
Zara’s wailing subsided, though tears still fell freely from her eyes. Sankta Alina had still been young when she walked right into the unnatural darkness and killed the monster behind it all. She had been brave even when she was all alone.
I want to be like her, I have to be brave too , Zara reminded herself.
It took several more moments in a silence broken by her own rattling breath, for Zara to will herself to her feet. Inch by inch, she found herself standing once more. Face streaked with tears and snot, Zara looked around, pretending - as she so loved to do for fun - that she was not Zara Luzhina, but Alina Starkov, off to go save the day.
With markedly less grace than the former living saint, Zara sniffled wetly as she began her walk through the woods.
Each step brought her closer to Misha, she was sure of it. Just retrace the path. Then she could go home and see Misha’s stupid grinning face peering at her at the kitchen table, after he snuck all the way back home without her.
Her ears rang with a barely-subdued fear she kept at bay with the weapon known as denial. That denial screamed in her head louder than the beast of doubt and fright that wanted to consume her; she had to keep it that way, or else she’d never be able to walk so suredly like this.
Just like Alina. Just like Sankta Alina. I’m finally just like her now .
A bird flew from its branch up above and Zara launched into a sprint.
0o0o0
She did not stop until she reached home, spotting as she ran her mother shooing some chickens. Her small, thundering feet barely slowed as she threw herself into the woman’s arms and wailed.
Luda, seeing only her daughter’s tears, tore herself from her work and brought the child inside for a soothing cup of honeyed tea. Zara stuck to her as a soaked leaf sticks to a branch. Slowly, pure relief replaced Zara’s unparalleled fear.
At last, the question came.
“Where’s Misha?”
0o0o0
On the first day they searched all night. On the second day they went into town to ask around. On the third day, help joined them in calling Misha’s name. On the fourth day, their search team expanded - because some original members also went missing. On the fifth, more search party members joined Misha and the would-be rescuers. On the sixth day, their focus shifted to the broader area.
On the seventh day, several villagers unrelated to the initial incident disappeared as well. A week after that, those who remained formed a town watch. Soon, the whole village became part of it when, at last, one set of keen eyes spotted sails on the distant horizon and realized just what they were contending with.
Slavers.