YAGA | ✓

ZERO

NINE YEARS BEFORE

A STRAY beam of moonlight remained at the river, a young girl swathed in shawls, long hair barely skimming the black water as she knelt on the ground. Had someone seen her, they would've seen the water weaving through her fingertips as they trailed along the surface, tinting her skin a pale, foamy blue, bending to her will for split seconds before reverting to their steady rush. Moonlight caught the beads of water caught on the grass of the bank, making them look more as if they were shards of jewels long lost in the earth.

In the girl's eyes, the river was perfect - everything she could've ever wanted and even more. It was her sanctuary, her refuge, her home. But where she saw this beauty, others would've seen dark, murky depths with a deadly hold on her flesh, skin sickly pale as the water rushed over it. Singing under her breath, Lena absent-mindedly watched the water rise and fall with the twitch of her fingers, the wind whipping against her face. The trees leaned in to listen to her song, the water whispering to her, filling her ears with its silky voice.

Though the sound of the water was that of a sweet princess's, Lena's was not. Her voice was a haunting lullaby, scratchy and childish. It sounded like that of a dying girl, thrust into the Chernovoda as waves roared over her head and rusalkas crooned from the impenetrable blackness lurking below.

Behind her, a twig snapped, but she continued murmuring to herself, thinking it to be the wind or an animal. It would've been no surprise, given the forest surrounding her in every direction.

As much as she hoped for it to be the wind, deep down she knew that it was not.

Hastily, she plunged her hand out of the water, wrapping it in her shawl as goosebumps erupted on her skin, a shiver running down her spine. A tiny exhale escaped her lips as she stared at the trees. Droplets of water lodged in the gap in her shawl where the wool had worn.

The dirt soaked up a single drop, soon trampled by Lena's boots as she forced herself up. A figure emerged from the shadows, and she felt the damp rock slip beneath her feet, until her body slammed against the river, ice engulfing her whole.

The water had betrayed her, but there was no escape from it - it was everywhere, swarming around, smacking against her face and weighing her sodden clothes down. She tried to swim upwards, fingers grasping the rock slabs, but she was sinking, lungs filling with grit and grime and water, so much water - anything but air.

Desperately, she kicked towards the surface, finding it to be useless. Her legs were too tired, the rush too strong for her to be able to move. The rusalkas' song beckoned to her, calling for her to become one of them, filling her ears with their raspy melody. Lena closed her eyes, waiting for Death to collect her and leave her body in the the water forevermore as water scraped in her throat.

For a sickeningly long moment, there was only silence, sheer and dominating - until one rabid, desolate thought arrived.

Seize it.

Seize the water.

And so she did, waves springing up, calling her name in a hypnotic whisper. Jets curled around her skin, and she felt herself shoot upwards with the current, free and limitless, her cage gone as arc of water rose up high into the air. She dug her nails into the dirt, bare feet slippery on the moisture-ridden grass, coughing and coughing until her lungs burned and water poured out of her mouth. Her slippers must've been carried away, but now the cold was not her enemy. The eyes trained on her were her main concern.

No-one had known about her secret trips to the river. She tensed her fingers, an anxious splash of water smattering over her face. Lena found herself looking up into the eyes of her father, their usual hazy grey now stormy, widened with pure terror. His fingers closed around her throat, the other hand, rough and calloused, covered with small burns he'd collected over the years, clutching the Chernobog's amulet.

"What-"

"I can explain, Tatko. Please, listen to me."

"Stay away. I said stay away!" his voice rose and trembled. Murmuring a shaky prayer, he threw the amulet into the air, landing at their feet.

Lena felt tears well up in her eyes. "It's me! Lena! Your daughter! Let me free, Tatko. Please!"

She squirmed, but her father's grip was too tight, muscles firmed with with years of lugging around heavy bags of flour around the bakery. His eyes bulged, and he began to press tighter, in a deadly chokehold.

Lana cried out, but there was no-one to hear.

The trees laughed in their crooked dance.

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