53. Slawa
“The war in Slawa has been going on for decades,” he begins, his voice cool and detached. “Perun and his gods have carved out the biggest part of the land for Wyraj, leaving a sliver to Weles for Nawie, and a small part for the rest of Slawa. This is where most people live, and there are many. It’s crowded, uncomfortable, and magical diseases spread often.”
I sigh. I swear, he never passes up an opportunity to lie to me. “You said it wasn’t a war about the land,” I point out flatly.
“It isn’t,” he says. “Perun and his gods need magic to keep ruling and to power up his immense ancestral soul operation. That’s why the entire land belonging to Slawa, where most people live, is surrounded by a tall, magical fence. The role of the fence is to suck magic out of everyone who lives there. Those who can’t get more or don’t have enough from the start, die or become vegetables.”
“Oh.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but he speaks with vicious hate, like this is something he feels very strongly about. If what he says is true, he’s right. This isn’t like mortal wars.
“The people rebel. Perun strikes a few with lightning to make an example of them. They rebel some more, he strikes again. It’s a futile war, and I won’t bore you with details. However, a few months ago, we received word from our spies about a much bigger threat. Perun looks to the mortal world, trying to come up with a way to suck magic out of these lands, too. Once he does it, he will be invincible.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and Woland smoothes it gently with a caress. I clear my throat, and he stops, keeping his palm on my lower back.
“What do I have to do with it?” I ask.
He laughs softly. “Nothing and everything.”
“If this is your answer, I swear, I’ll find a way to cut off your cock,” I growl.
He snorts with amusement, and for a moment, everything is like it used to. But then Woland shifts slightly, his length jostling inside me, his thorns tugging, and I’m back to the cold reality of his betrayal.
“Nyja is a Nawie goddess,” he answers. It’s neither here nor there, but I let him continue. “Weles is neutral, but he allows his gods to pick a side, and Nyja fights against Perun. She is also a seer. A very powerful one. After we found out about Perun’s plans regarding the mortal word, she said a prophecy.”
I shiver again. His fingers spasm against me, but he keeps his hand still.
“What prophecy?”
“About a young woman,” he answers, his voice soft. “A young mortal woman who wasn’t supposed to be alive. A woman with a sign on her forehead saying she was destined to die at twelve, yet was far over that age, alive and walking. A beautiful, cunning woman who didn’t have an ancestral soul and so, had an affinity for magic.”
Goosebumps break out over my back and I blink, staring at his smooth dark skin in front of me, my mind whirring. It all sounds right, if preposterous, apart from the last bit.
“Doesn’t have an ancestral soul?” I ask, incredulous. “How is that possible? You said Perun gives them to every mortal when they are still in their mothers’ wombs. So how come she doesn’t have one?”
He hums in thought. “It’s rare but not unheard of. I believe I mentioned mamunas. They and a couple of other kinds of bies steal ancestral souls for power. They attack storks, because once a soul is embedded, it’s impossible to remove it until a mortal dies. So it’s likely your soul got stolen in transit. That’s why you were born without one.”
His fingers twitch again, like he badly wants to do something but holds back.
“That’s why you’re pure.”
Pure. Such a strange word to denote what I am: a witch, a bringer of death, the devil’s wronged lover.
“How do you know that I don’t have it? How do you know it’s me?” I ask.
He shifts again, and my body reacts, my core squeezing him harder. I curse, hating myself. He hisses in a sharp breath.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep still,” he says through clenched teeth.
And I am confused again. It’s like he can’t help but be nice to me, but whatever his reason, I don’t fall for it. He’ll only hurt me again.
“How?” I repeat my question.
“Because you could do magic after I gave you my blood,” he says. “An ancestral soul would block that ability. And because you could hear Wiosna, who, incidentally, was also born without an ancestral soul. Many people like you drift toward whispering, because it’s the only way you’re allowed to express your gifts.”
Gifts.I remember the spells Wiosna did, her irreverent, often whispered criticisms of our village life and the gods. And then I think about what she told me about the stork that supposedly brought my soul. How alarmed it looked, ruffling its feathers. Maybe it had been attacked, its package stolen.
And then, my magic. How it manifested. How strong it was. How she had to seal it away, because it kept bubbling out.
Woland doesn’t let me think long, speaking more.
“But the first sign and my final confirmation was when you entered our sacred circle. No other mortal can do that. Ancestral souls won’t let them pass.”
My breath hitches. So that’s why Bogna couldn’t enter the circle that night.
“You knew since then,” I whisper. “But why… Why did you even come to our Kupala Night? Why was Nyja there? And the others?”
He releases a long, tired breath.
“You did a spell that day. You called on Weles’ name. We were on the lookout for our prophesied mortal, so we took a close look at each of you who did magic. You called our attention with that spell, and then Dola, the Rodzanica you met, looked at you and saw your destiny written on your forehead.”
“And it said I was supposed to die at twelve,” I murmur, desperately trying to put it all together.
“Yes.” He sighs deeply, his chest expanding against my cheek. “Will you tell me what happened? Were you in danger? Did someone hurt you?”
I grit my teeth and shake my head. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“I suppose it wasn’t,” he says with rueful amusement. “But I still want to know.”
“Why don’t you just go back in time and check since it’s so easy for you to control it?” I snap then, the memory of his earlier betrayal amplifying my anger.
“I can only manipulate time in the present. I can’t go back to the past,” he says, and I huff, suspicious since he shared that so easily.
Probably another lie.
“Jaga, I really hope we can get past this,” he says, pressing me closer. “I did what I had to and I hurt you, but believe me when I say…”
“No,” I interrupt, the hurt in my chest welling up until I choke on it. “You still have more to tell me. What did the prophecy say about me, if it’s really me?”
“It is,” he says without hesitation. “And it said you would decide the balance of the war. Whoever claims you will win.”
My breath rushes out of me, and I clench my fists, the magnitude of that crushing me. Somewhere in another world, there is a war with creatures of various races and kinds dying, and it’s supposed to all hinge on me? It boggles my mind, and I snort.
“This makes no sense.”
“Prophecies rarely do.”
“But how is that supposed to change anything?” I burst out.
He strokes my back but stops immediately when I growl in anger.
“I don’t know, Jaga. Maybe you’ll fight on the side of the person who owns you. Maybe just the fact of having you will change things. Maybe your children will be those who win the war. We shall wait and see.”
I snort darkly. My children. His audacity has no bounds.
We lie in silence for a while, and I fume, more and more anger sparking until I’m hot and eager to move. The fact I’m stuck with him like this adds fuel to the fire.
“Did it even occur to you to just tell me what was going on and ask for my help?” I ask after a while, my voice trembling from fury.
Because he could have, and I would have helped, I’m sure of it. And instead… All that. So many people dead. All that fight and struggle, and betrayal after betrayal, ending with this—forcing me to have his child. It’s evil, but even more, it’s just stupid. So much wasted effort.
Woland laughs so heartily, he shakes, jostling me with him. I dig my nails into his waist, but he only laughs harder, so loud, he makes birds caw in outrage somewhere nearby.
“You’ll wake up the whole forest,” I grumble under my breath.
He makes an effort to stop, snorting a few more times. Finally, he wipes tears from his eyes, and I huff with impatience.
I can’t wait for his thorns to be out.
“Jaga. Dear. My darling,” he says, his voice brimming with mirth. “I’m sorry, but you don’t have a good heart. If a bunch of gods came to you saying their war hinged on your choice, would you actually believe them and let one claim you to help the poor citizens of Slawa? Or would you shop around? Perun has much more to offer than me, after all. A smart, ambitious woman such as yourself would have gone to him, don’t you think?”
I am too furious to consider his explanation, so I just aim to hurt him.
“You’re right about one thing: you have nothing to offer me, and yes, I would rather go to anyone else but you. Why were you the one to claim me, though? There were a bunch of you. Couldn’t Nyja do it? I’d tell her yes. Or Strzybog. Unlike you, he’s pleasant enough. I’m sure I would have agreed.”
He growls, pressing his face to the top of my head. “No. Only me.”
“If you can get me pregnant,” I hiss, but clamp my mouth shut before I say too much, too soon.
Woland scoffs, completely unbothered.
“I may be old, but I am virile. You will have my baby. And despite what I said, I’m glad. It will be my first child born from affection and respect for a woman. I will protect and provide for you both. Already, a house is ready in Slawa, just for you. It’s comfortable and big. You will be happy there.”
I tense. “In Slawa? What do you mean?”
He barks a short laugh. “Jaga, I’m not stupid. I know you have ways of terminating a pregnancy, which is why you’ll be watched around the clock. You will have servants and guards to protect you, and I will check on you regularly. You’ll belong to me from the moment you conceive. We’ll know for sure in a few days.”
“I don’t want to go to Slawa,” I say, my insides twisting with fear.
Woland pulls back, and we look at each other again. This time, his mask is off, and the look on his face is a strange mix of affection and exasperation.
“You will be safe there. Provided for. Haven’t you noticed there’s nothing for you here? Jaga, you were always meant to end up in Slawa and with me. In fact, let’s go now.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I can’t speak. The lights around us disappear, the world plunging into complete darkness, and there is a sense of movement, both fast velocity and being still, and then, we fall.
We land in fragrant, soft grass. Grasshoppers chirp around us. The night is brighter than back home, even without Woland’s lights. When I look up, trembling, I see the moon is so much bigger here, its light silver and pure. The stars look odd. They are all equally bright, sharp pinpricks of light dotting the sky in constellations I can’t name.
“Welcome home,” Woland murmurs, rolling us until I’m on top.
I brace my hands on his chest and raise myself as high as I can. His thorns still hold us together.
“You had no right,” I growl, straddling him to sit more comfortably. “I didn’t agree.”
He puts his arm under his head and watches me with a slow smile.
“I had every right. You belong to me. At last.”
I stare at his bare armpit, fantasizing about the knife I left back home. Even if it didn’t kill him, it would hurt if I stabbed him there. And if I angled it well enough, maybe I could get his heart.
“You’re having murderous thoughts,” he says, his free hand settling on my hip. His cock inside me swells, and I know he wants to fuck me again. “Let me apologize to you. Let’s make up. It will be good, you’ll see. I’ll treat you well.”
I laugh bitterly, looking up at the sky. Slawa. My plan didn’t exactly take that into account, and I have no idea what to do. I look around, noticing a house not far ahead. Behind me is a forest, the trees so much taller, so much bigger than back home. It’s scary and foreign. I wonder whether it wouldn’t be best to stay with him after all. At least until I get my bearings.
In the forest, I see a faint silvery glimmer in the undergrowth. The fern flower. Just like Woland said—not a rarity here.
“This is your house,” he says, pointing over his head.
I don’t see much, because the windows are unlit, but it is much larger than even the biggest cottage back home. Something nags at me, and I finally realize what.
“My house?” I ask slowly. “And you will check on me regularly—is that what you said?”
He shrugs. “Well, I can’t live with you. I’m not a safe person to be around. You cost me so much, I can’t let you get hurt.”
But all I hear is possession. He thinks he acquired me. He plans to put me aside so I don’t get scratched or spoiled. If he wants to see me, he will, but that will always be his choice. I don’t imagine he’ll give me the freedom to call on him.
My chest tears with pain when I realize this is who he is, who he’s always been. And to be fair, he warned me. He said this exact thing would happen—he would claim me and lose interest.
I’ll be relegated to this house, watched over by wardens disguised as my guards, and forced to birth a baby he doesn’t really want. Just like the pendant on my neck, the baby will be collateral. His way of keeping me on a leash.
It’s not what I want from life. Not by far.
“Don’t be sad, darling,” he says, cupping my face easily. “I’ll keep the war far away from you and our baby. And you will be safe. On that note, let me remove this. That mark had its uses in the mortal world, but here, it will set you apart. I’ll put it on a more intimate part of you one day. So you know who owns you but you’re not a target.”
He passes his thumb over my chin, making my skin tingle. I breathe with relief, because I hated that mark as much as I hate him. At least it’s gone now.
Woland caresses my face, looking at me seriously. I grit my teeth, reminding myself I can’t trust him.
“I’ll keep you immortal and young,” he whispers. “And since you wanted me to be faithful, I will promise you this. We’ll make up. I have you now.”
But I don’t answer. I’m too busy feeling into the energies swirling in my chest, potent and blazing. It hurt so much when the seal broke once he entered me, but now, that pain is gone. All I feel is feral, untamed magic swirling in my veins.
And it’s all mine. Not his.
The only fear I have is that I won’t be able to wield it, but then, I practiced and commanded his magic well enough when I had it. This should be the same. I just need to direct my intentions with purpose.
The little crystal bottle of Woland’s blood still hangs between my breasts, untouched. I didn’t take even a drop from it.
I have everything I need.
When I feel more and more tingles between my legs, I know his thorns will release any moment.
He sighs with pleasure, feeling it, too.
“I haven’t fucked anyone in a very long time,” he says with an unapologetic grin. “Because no one excites me like you do. Say, my love, why don’t we go again? The damage is already done. I came so deep inside you, you have no choice but to give me a baby.”
His cock is still hard inside me. A moment later, the thorns release, and we both hiss. I move experimentally, and he flexes his hips with a pleased grunt.
I smile and start to ride him.
“My gorgeous witch,” he says reverently, looking up at my face as he grabs my hips with both hands. “That’s it. Take what you want. You feel so good. Better than anyone.”
I bite my tongue so as not to laugh bitterly. I can’t believe I fell for this before, but now I know better. His every word of affection, every promise and endearment is a filthy lie. But he feels good inside me, so I do exactly as he says—I take. Soon, his shadows reach for my clit, and he wraps his hand around my throat, choking me until I come, spasming around him in waves.
He lets me go and looks at me with awed, glittering eyes. I choke in a few breaths and resume riding him. He stares at me, eyes locked on mine, and flexes his hips. He’s so strong, he lifts me easily with every thrust.
“Woland? I decided to tell you about it, after all.”
“What?” he grits out, his pleasure growing.
“About what happened when I was twelve.”
“Can’t it wait, love?” he asks, making my skin crawl.
Love. Shameless bastard.
“No, it can’t. You see, the thing that happened to me left a scar. It’s this one here.”
I take his hand and bring it to my lower belly. The scar is faint, because I used herbal ointments to treat it, and they worked, because I was young enough when I got it. To anyone but me, it probably looks like a stretch mark.
Woland grunts, feeling it. I smile.
“I was stabbed with a knife. It went deep. All the way in.”
I bounce on him, and he frowns, something of what I said reaching him, but not fast enough. He’s drunk with pleasure and victory. So sure of himself.
So very much like a man.
“I have scars inside, too,” I say, settling down. His cock strains inside me, hard and hot, and I grind on him, relishing the way his breath hitches.
“Those scars are bigger than this one. And they can’t be treated. There was nothing Wiosna could do for me. Nothing I could do.”
I get up and step away. His cock gleams in Slawa’s magical moonlight with his arousal and mine, still hard. He raises himself on his elbows, looking at me with a deep frown. I have to act quickly. I can’t underestimate him.
“It means you could give me all the venom you’ve got, and it wouldn’t change a thing,” I say, slowly walking backward.
Away from the house he means to be my prison. I walk toward the forest that probably teems with beasts. But I’d take a wild beast over him any day. At least it won’t scheme to get me pregnant.
“You could keep yourself buried in my cunt forever, and it would mean nothing,” I continue calmly as he sits up, his eyes burning.
He’s catching on.
“I’m infertile. I’ll never give you a child.”
I turn and run. He roars with fury, and I don’t look back, knowing he’s right on my heels. With my sweaty hand, I catch my pendant and focus my intent, pouring my desperate goal into it.
Let him not find me. Let his shadows not touch me. Let him not know where I am. Let him not find me.
And my magic flows. My hand grows hot, my heart hammers, not just from exertion but from all the power singing in my veins. When it finds its peak, there is no wall to stop it. It pours into my pendant, suffusing it with my magic, my intention glittering red.
“Jaga!” Woland roars so loudly, the ground vibrates beneath my bare feet.
I dart among the trees, but he’s close, his long legs faster than mine. Shadows reach for me but they don’t stop me, helpless against my spell. I run into ferns and duck under a low-hanging branch. And still, I hear his breath close by, his rage like heat beating against my back.
If he catches me, I’m not sure he will be able to hold back. He could do anything.
So I run faster, determined not to let him. I grab a tree to turn, its bark scratching my hand. Brambles tangle between my naked legs, but I don’t let them slow me down.
When there’s enough distance between us, I risk a glance back. He’s close, but I’ve bought myself a moment.
My heart hammering with excitement and fear, I stop and point both hands at him, palms open, my power tingling at my fingertips.
“Fly!” I order.
A torrent of magic tears out of me, and Woland is yanked up in the air and thrown, far and fast through the woods, until he disappears in a clump of ferns taller than a man.
I smile grimly and run away, leaving him far behind. My destiny awaits, and it’s not as the devil’s owned possession.
I am far too powerful and too ambitious for that.
THE END OF BOOK 1