5. ITALIA/RUTHENIA 15th Century #15
At the same time, in Baba Yaga’s hut, several countries away, the Romani witch’s eyes also turned black. The plain ring on his finger emanated an intense, bitter coldness, though it caused no harm to him; in fact, he barely felt it.
Around the hut, sinuous tendrils of pure darkness oozed forth from every shadowy nook and cranny, slithering stealthily from crevices and hidden gaps. The chilling void, thick and palpable, began to coalesce and advance toward the Cannibal Hag, wrapping the air itself in an oppressive gloom.
“What is this?!” she screeched, shock and awe evident upon her contorted, grimacing face. “Get back!”
Baba Yaga cast an ancient Hybornean spell to exert control over shadow and gloam.
When the living darkness did not heed her commands—drawing closer instead—she began hurling one dark spell after another at the encroaching inky mass.
She attempted to burn it, freeze it, and destroy it with acid; nothing worked.
In a desperate frenzy, she called upon the power of her twisted mind.
Through sheer will and spite, she tore up the floorboards of her hut, uprooting the very earth beneath her and damaging the chicken legs that supported her home as she tried to bury the darkness beneath an immense weight of soil and stone.
But it was all in vain; the darkness would not be stopped.
Depending on the attack, it became solid, hard as Celestial Bronze, or intangible at will, overpowering or ignoring all the elements used against it, even the corrosive effects of magically created acid.
“No! Begone! This is my place of power! You cannot do this to me!”
The Romani witch mistakenly thought Baba Yaga was shrieking at him when, in fact, she was cursing the darkness itself. She knew whose power this truly was: the power of ancient gods.
The living darkness enveloped the Cannibal Hag in a colossal paw, tightening its grip with a merciless hold that felt both inescapable and suffocating.
Claws of adamantine shadow pierced her flesh.
Soon, a large opening into the Shadow Realm appeared behind her, and slithering black tendrils began to draw her toward it.
The great beast Baba Yaga fought against the mighty shadow to the last, screaming and cursing. Despite her efforts, she was inevitably pulled inside its cold embrace; the living black umbra, a realm bound by neither time nor space, was now her eternal prison.
And as silently as it had come, the darkness retreated back to the corners, the crevices, and the holes of the hut to behave as shadows typically did in this realm: innocuous and harmless.
Upon Baba Yaga’s disappearance, the Romani witch felt Abriana’s ring snap in two and fall from his finger to the ground.
Back in Tuscany, among the olive trees of the Bianchi farm, a ring of perfect black pearls intended for the hand of a goddess also dropped to the ground. However, being indestructible, it remained in perfect condition.
Sadly, the mortal body of Abriana Bianchi fared much worse. It had turned to ash, and the fragments of her essence drifted away upon the warm summer breeze.
The power embedded within the majestic ring was never meant to be wielded by mortal hands. This was why the old woman had enchanted her wedding band, binding it to the Titaness’ ring so that she could work the spell through the Romani witch, leaving him blameless and unharmed.
For the sake of what remained of her cherished Pietro, buried deep within the heart and soul of the Romani witch, Abriana chose to take upon herself the burden of wielding this darkness. The price of a mortal invoking the ring’s celestial power: death.
As a last act of magic before her demise, Abriana spelled Phoebe’s ring to bury itself deep within the rich soil of her family’s farm, far below the roots of the olive trees, so deep that no one would ever find it.
Back at Baba Yaga’s hut, the Romani witch swore, for the briefest moment, he had heard Abriana’s voice inside his head, reminding him of his promise to her.
“Beloved!” Damek shouted urgently, capturing the Romani witch’s attention. “Look! Look!”
Seeing that his beloved’s legs were at twisted angles, the Romani witch ran to his side, understanding that there was no way he could meet him halfway.
As he did, he turned to look where Damek was pointing, and that was when he saw the bone cage clear as day, sitting on the floor in the corner of the kitchen.
With Baba Yaga now far from this realm, the power and permanence of her magic were fading.
“Praise Hecate!” the Romani witch cried in happiness. “Though the crone is gone, her magic will still have much potency. It may take me some time to free them. Are you in much pain, my love?”
“It is manageable, thanks to the Great Spirit, so do not fret over me. Please, free my family!” Damek was using his magic to heal himself now that he had time to be calm and concentrate, without the threat of imminent attack. This was when the art of Zagovory truly shone.
The Romani witch, ignoring his own pain and broken body, set to work on unbinding the cage from Baba Yaga’s dark magic.
It took nearly two hours for the Romani witch to break the spell, finally freeing Dawyd and his mother.
He was drenched in sweat, and a terrible ache pounded in his head.
He realized that if the Cannibal Hag had still been present, nothing he could have done—no spell or enchanted weapon—would have broken that lock.
“I must admit, she possessed awe-inspiring magic,” the Romani witch whispered to himself. He was impressed—and startled by just how envious he felt.
Dawyd, trembling and still in a state of panic, ran over to Damek, still on the floor, and jumped into his arms; the brothers embraced, neither wanting to let go of the other.
The Romani witch helped Damek’s mother to a chair; she had no strength to stand.
“You came, you came—” Dawyd repeated as he cried upon his older brother’s shoulder. “I knew you would!”
Damek kissed his brother many times, all over his head and face, laughing happily. He planned never to reveal that he had, in fact, given up looking earlier that day. He felt much shame for this, a burden he would carry in silence for the rest of his days.
Leaving the Honcharenko family to reunite, the Romani witch sat down, crossed his legs, and prayed to Hecate, asking her to grant him the power to heal everyone sufficiently for the long journey back through the forest to the Hutsul village.
Breaking the spell upon the cage had exhausted him, depleting his magical reserves. He needed a blessing.
And he received one.
A surge of physical and magical strength soon came upon him. It was a generous gift that allowed him to help all the injured get back on their feet. With Damek’s mystical aid, broken bones were mended, bloody wounds were sealed, and withered flesh was mostly rejuvenated.
It would take several more days of rest and healing magic before everyone was fully restored to peak health, but they had the time. The danger had passed; they were now safe.
When the party moved outside Baba Yaga’s hut, Damek properly introduced the Romani witch to his mother and brother, who were thrilled to meet him, not simply because he had been their saviour but because his love for Damek shone like the sun.
“My mother’s mana will take weeks, if not months, to replenish,” Damek told the Romani witch, pulling him aside to talk privately. “But now that she has returned to us, Father will stop wallowing in sorrow, be happy again, and allow me to heal his hand. Mother will not be able to do it yet.
“You see, my love, I must step up and be the town’s main healer and protector, as I am the greatest of our people’s mages after my mother.
Although, upon seeing you fight the crone, I feel foolish even calling myself that.
You are so much more than a mage or a witch.
You were like a god in there! We owe all our lives to you; all of Rus Land is indebted to you for Baba Yaga’s destruction. ”
“The beast is gone, not destroyed, my love, but she will not escape that realm for a very long time, if ever. Now, come here!”
The Romani witch flashed a mischievous smile. He took Damek’s hand, drawing him closer until their lips met in a passionate kiss that sent shivers down his spine. It was a moment charged with magic and desire, igniting a flame between them that felt timeless and exhilarating.
While his fiery emotion was genuine, the Romani witch nonetheless felt himself a fake and a failure.
How I wish I were a god, my love, but I am not.
Nowhere near. I did not defeat the crone; the dark magic of the ring did.
I now see that I am a fool. I shall never be powerful enough to defeat the immortal demon when next we meet if I continue as I—wait!
“Damek, I need you to lead everyone to your village,” the Romani witch instructed, turning his head to look back at Baba Yaga’s hut.
“I will be right behind you, but first, I need to make sure no one who may come upon this clearing discovers the remains of this abomination and dares to take anything from inside. We cannot let these tomes of black magic get into anyone’s hands. ”
“What do you plan on doing?” Damek asked, his eyes full of concern.
“I plan to burn it all to cinders,” the Romani witch smirked.
“Those things spelled against fire, I shall bury beneath the forest floor. The Great Mother Terra will reclaim and cleanse this spot of its dark taint. See, there is nothing to worry about, my love. Now, off with you! I want you far from this cursed place. I shall be along shortly.”
With a wink and a pat on his lover’s backside, the Romani witch disappeared back into Baba Yaga’s hut.
After about an hour of walking through the forest with his family, Damek saw flames rising above the treetops. He knew his lover had finally completed his task.
In no time at all, thanks to a little magical speed, the Romani witch caught up to the troop and was again walking by his beloved’s side, a place he never wanted to leave.
“It is done. The fire is controlled and contained within the clearing; nothing will remain but cinders by tomorrow.
It took some time and prayer, but I managed to spell the fire hot enough to melt bone and iron.
As I feared, some items were spelled against flame, so I cast an enchantment of my own creation!
Anything left upon the surface after the fire shall sink deep into the earth.
“Now, let us have no more talk of Cannibal Hags and huts upon chicken legs and dark sorcery. We shall return to your home together and, as the stories say, live happily ever after.”
“You will stay with me? I have so little to offer one of your gifts and worldliness, and — ”
The Romani witch quieted his beloved with a heated kiss upon his lips. “My life is wherever you are. You are my home, Damek.” You are my everything, Aeneas.
As he walked hand in hand with the love of his life, lost in thoughts of a future filled with wondrous possibilities and pure love, Damek felt a sense of completeness.
He believed with all his heart that he now shared the same joy and carefree attitude his lover had displayed while splashing around in the cool waters of the Temnyi Lis River earlier that day.
Smiling widely, the Romani witch could not take his eyes off Damek. He knew they would share a long life; he felt it in his bones. The longer they were together, the more Aeneas would reveal himself.
“ Do not do this. You will corrupt us. ”
The Romani witch was again reminded that he carried a traveller, a stowaway that hung on to his soul like a leech.
“ I do what I must. Stay silent. ”
The Romani witch needed no angel on his shoulder to act as his conscience. He knew what he was doing.
Inside his leather satchel, he carried a heavy, thick book, one taken from Baba Yaga’s hut, the only text encased in glass.
This glass had not shattered during the Cannibal Hag’s magically created maelstrom, which meant this grimoire was highly protected.
Important. The ancient book exuded power and possessed an aura of malevolence; it was his key to one day vanquishing an immortal.
Even though the formidable Baba Yaga had been defeated, the Romani witch realized she had been caught off guard by the unexpected attack.
She was ill-prepared to face the power of whatever that living darkness was, be it god-born or daemonic magic.
He would never allow this to happen to him; he would never be arrogant, unprepared or underestimate his opponent again.
The Romani witch knew precisely what his greatest enemy was: a blood-drinker! He would be prepared to fight such an immortal. Now that he had this book
Before leaving Baba Yaga’s hut, the Romani witch had delved deep into his reservoir of magical knowledge to find a spell powerful enough to enchant his satchel.
This was essential to keep the potent aura of the book hidden from Damek and his mother, as well as from anyone else who might sense its sinister resonance.
The grimoire had several arcane symbols carved into its binding, a covering made from tanned human flesh. The Romani witch had no understanding of what they meant, but he vowed to learn these ancient languages no matter how long it took, whether that was an entire lifetime or more.
On the cover were two ancient Greek words that he could translate, ones that chilled him to his very marrow, yes, but not enough to abandon his plan. In his tongue, the words translated to mean precisely what he was looking for.
Darkest Magick .