Chapter Text
Ajax jabbed the old, oxidized copper knife into the stump. He wiggled it around, making sure it held firm and steady. Then, he opened up his grandma’s worn-out and soggy journal.
Half of the page was unreadable, the Cyrillic impeccable but waterlogged. Still, his mother’s lessons weren’t in vain. He would do this ‘spell’ or die trying, because it was his last, desperate attempt to do something to get back at everyone who spat on him and called him unspeakable things.
He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. He barely believed in this nonsense, spells and magic and werewolves, but his grandma was a practical woman from what he could remember and if she had some magical spell written down to turn him into a scary wolf man then it had to be real. Even as he thought it, it sounded stupid as hell, but he would try anyway.
“ На море, на океан, на остров, на Бужан, На пустынном пастбище блестит луна, на золе лежащей. В зеленом лесу, в сумрачной долине. ”
He squinted at the next line. “Uh…” With a big breath, he said all at once:
“ К загону бродит лохматый волк,
Рогатый скот ищет его острые белые клыки;
Но волк не входит в лес,
Но волк не ныряет в долину теневую,
Луна, луна, златорогая луна,
Проверяй полет пуль, затупляй охотничьи ножи,
Сломай дубины пастухов,
Наведи дикий страх на весь скот,
На мужчин, все гады,
Чтоб не поймали серого волка,
Чтобы они не разорвали его теплую кожу!
Мое слово связывает, связывает больше, чем сон,
Более обязательный, чем обещание героя ”
Nothing happened.
…Right, it wasn’t supposed to yet. He tried not to feel disappointed. He took a few steps back, shoes sticking in the mud. If he was going to clear this tree stump, he would need a running start.
He began in a sprint and leaped, barely making it over the copper knife and landing on the other side.
Two more times.
He turned around and did the same. Made it again. Once more.
This time, his heel tapped the copper knife on the way over. He held his breath when he landed in the mud on the other side.
Nothing happened.
He knew it wouldn’t. He didn’t really believe in things like this - in magic . Still, his shoulders sagged. He reached forward to pull the knife out, but –
A sharp electric shock rippled through his arm when he touched it. He pulled away, looking at his finger.
“Aaaajaaaax~!”
He whirled around, eyes wide. His name was being called from the woods, in a voice on the specific line between childlike and adultish that only a 14-year-old boy could achieve. “Where’d you go, pussy ? I saw you!”
Ajax yanked the knife out of the tree stump, ignoring the second shock, and ran. The mud got shallower and drier as he went, hopefully leading him away from the river.
He didn’t know where he was going - he was unfamiliar with this part of the forest - but it was away from the voice calling him to come back, so it was good to him. All he wanted to do was get away.
It was the weekend. He thought he could just have a couple of days without having to see anyone, but then Randy had to get a glimpse of him going into the woods, and if he saw him trying some stupid spell then maybe they would actually kill him next time.
Or he would finally get the balls to do it himself–
The trees had been thick, the ground dry and firm beneath, until it wasn’t. He was plunged into the cold, scummy river, water filling his nose immediately.
He let go of the knife and the journal and reached for anything at all to hold on to. He blinked his eyes open but the entire world was dark and dirty.
His foot slipped on something slimy and he panicked, taking water into his lungs. All he could think about was an alligator taking its opportunity to bite his leg off right at that moment, now that he had disturbed its slumber.
Thrashing wildly, somehow he propelled himself to the surface of the water and took a heaving, gasping breath.
“Pah- blahh– h-help!!” He couldn’t see with river slime gluing his eyes shut, paddling in circles uselessly. He should be right next to the edge of the river, right? He slipped right in, and it didn’t move particularly fast. He reached around.
Nothing was within arm’s reach. The idea of alligators in the water made his heart pound, and he was still coughing up muck. “Help!!” he sputtered out again.
He heard what sounded like laughing. Mocking. Fury rose. “ Randy! G-get me out of here! If I die, y-you’re g-gahh-gonna, plehh, they’ll–”
The laughing got worse, and it wasn’t the laughter of a young boy. Something latched onto his ankle. It wasn’t alligator teeth.
Fingers wrapped around his leg.
“On the sea, on the sea, on the island, on Bujan,
On the empty pasture gleams the moon, on an ashstock lying,
In a green wood, in a gloomy vale.”
The words were spoken directly into his head. While he could read the Cyrillic in the book, he spoke almost no Russian; yet these words somehow translated themselves into perfect English for him.
He breathed heavily, frozen as he floated in place. The voice was that of a young woman. Mocking.
“ Towards the stock wandereth a shaggy wolf,
Horned cattle looking for his sharp white fangs;
However, the wolf enters not the woods,
However, the wolf dives not into the dark vale. ”
Ajax slammed his fist into the water in frustration, creating a splash. It stank of fish. “Can you shut up and help me??” he shouted.
Finally he was able to pry his eyes open, squinting into the–
It was night.
The full moon hung above him, larger than life.
Across the river, the side where he had fallen in from, now opposite of him, stood a young woman with impossibly long black hair. A sword hung from her hip, and her eyes glowed yellow. They shone like stars from this distance.
She laughed, again, less meanly.
“What is your name, волчонок?”
This time, he had no translation. “I’m coming out. There are alligators.” He began to swim toward her side of the riverbank.
“There are not. What is your name?”
“A-Ajax Rybak,” he called between swimming strokes.
“Rybak… like Rybakova? You are Sofia Rybakova’s son.”
“No, that was my grandma.” He pulled himself onto the bank, nearly slipping off the slick grass. “Where are we?”
“You’re very calm, волчонок. We are in the Abyss.” She sat down next to him.
“Did I do this? With the spell? Does that mean I did it right? Or did I do it wrong?” He looked up at her with wide blue eyes. “Oh god, I’m dead now, right? Or did I curse myself?”
She squashed his head down with one hand. “You cursed yourself, alright,” she growled. “You did it almost entirely right. I won’t hold it against you, you did your best. You’ll get what you want.”
Ajax’s eyes remained wide, even with his head forced to look down at the ground. “So, I’ll be a…”
“Оборотень. Werewolf. Yes.” She let him go.
“Holy shit.”
She cuffed him on the back of the head for swearing.
“You’re too excited, волчонок. Did you not know the meaning of what you recited? Do you not know the cost of your curse?”
Ajax blinked at her. He looked up at the full moon, looming over them. Despite how bright and heavy it was in the sky, the entire world was still pitch black.
“...I don’t know Russian. I never learned.”
“ Check the flight of bullets, blunt the hunters knives,
Break the shepherd’s cudgels,
Cast wild fear upon all cattle,
On men, all creeping things,
That they may not catch the gray wolf,
That they may not rend his hot skin.”
Ajax stared at her blankly as she said the words. Her lips did not match the translation he was hearing.
She cast her yellow eyes on him. Their ominous glow bored into his soul, and he shivered, despite the heat.
“Are you the gray wolf yet, волчонок? Or will the hunters catch you?”
Instead of answering, all he could ask was, “What’s your name?”
She blinked at him, as if surprised.
“Skirk.”
The next time he blinked, she was gone.
And he was utterly alone, in the hot, dark Abyss.