Baba Roga

Inside The Dancing Bear, the tavern looked as if it had been frozen in time. As Peter scurried about in his form of the rat, he could feel the dried ale and jagged bits of splintered wood across his paws. While there were some knocked tables and chairs noting the few abductions from the striga, the month or so span had the area completely untouched since then. He passed by the Zrinski banners that were down the hallways, down into the tavern’s cellar.

Barrels of ale, beer and wine were separated out. Peter darted across the cobbled floor, until he found what would’ve been an innocuous patch of wood. He transformed back into his original form and then pulled on the wooden latch. It clicked open and revealed an old ladder. Peter figured it to be in better shape than the ones he saw in the crypts and worked his way down the opening. The narrow passageway was also strung together with stone brick, its headway long enough for someone of Peter’s height to stand upright without his head touching the top of it. While enough dimmed light gave way for him to see for the next few feet ahead, it soon completely gave way to darkness. Without any torchlight to keep him company, Peter stepped forward, completely entrenched within the voided path. While in the shroud, Peter attempted to keep his footsteps as light as possible, as even the slightest of movement echoed through the extended passageway. He could feel his breath shaking more and more with each step he took. He’d soon be back within his castle walls, ready to find a way to break the curse once and for all. All he could do was pray Tinnie’s words were true, otherwise he’d not only kill himself, but whoever survived within these walls, his journey would be all in vain.

As Peter continued to fight with himself on his best course of action, he stumbled into another ladder. He ascended the ladder, ready to take his final key steps. It was now or never. He released the latch and crawled his way into the tower’s cellar.

Once inside, Peter crawled his way into the tower’s own buttery. While there were no striga immediately present, he could hear their metallic shouts from above. He knew stealth would be of the essence to not alert the other striga of his presence and initiate the slaughter. All he had was his hunch, that he’d find the witch within his own quarters, with herself now claiming dominion over the city. If he managed to get himself there undetected, perhaps he could end the witch’s reign before her subjects would be able to catch on to him and scatter.

Peter transformed back into his shape of the rat and scurried across the floor. While he knew his small and feeble form would buy him some level of camouflage, he knew his white and golden fur would give him away if he wasn’t careful. He scurried across the cellar and back out towards the staircase he wandered down from on his first retreat from the city. While he found the steps to be a nuisance in his human form, they were simply herculean in his rat form. He lunched at each step and used all of the strength from his front paws to claw his way up one after the other, feeling as if he were hiking up a cliffside without a rope to anchor him in place.

One after another he hurled himself up the stairwell, until he reached the top, attempting to catch his breath without making a scene. In the hallway where the young guard was napping, there was only an unlit and unmanned entrance, with the door to his chambers untouched. Peter felt a cold dread fill his chest as he crawled to the doorway. He felt as if his journey into the castle was too easy, as though there would be some beasts in front of the doorway. While he knew several of them were slain, there were surely enough to still be around the witch at all times. He kept his ears on high alert, looking for any sign of the beasts, but could feel none.

As he reached the doorway to his chambers, he flattened his belly and forced himself through the narrow crack below. He would feel the stone and wood crushing against him from all angles, but he knew it was just a one last discomfort before he hoped to find the witch. He didn’t know what he’d fully expect once he crawled to the other side, but he’d find out soon enough.

What he didn’t expect to find was a striga patiently waiting for the rat as he finally pulled his head through to the other side. Its claws grabbed at his head and lifted him into the air, toying with its prey. Peter prepared himself to transform back into a bear and crush the striga where she stood until he recognized those intensely yellow eyes staring back at him. It was Lyana, at least what remained of her holding him in his grasp.

A dark cloud blew through the chamber’s opened window, and then materialized into Baba Roga. She cackled at the sight of Lyana holding the albino rat in her claws, her boar-like lips salivating at the morsel in her grasp.

“What a fitting form for a Zrinski, isn’t it petal. Far more than that bear they always use.”

Peter twisted in place as he felt himself strung up by his tail, her dagger like nails piercing into it as he was left to dangle at her mercy. Baba Roga stepped closer in anticipation, wanting to see her newly found prisoner up close. “What would be the most fitting end for ya Petal? Burned in the fire for your pyres? Served on a platter by our sisters, to see what krsnik tastes like? No, no, you’ll now be executed by the one you loved most. The Dalmatia shall rightfully regain our lands after your passing, with our ladies’ houses reinstated, and your ilk will be nothing but our cattle, starting with you.”

Baba Roga motioned for Lyana to swallow Peter whole. He felt his blood turn to ice as those piercing eyes stared back at him, but he didn’t find his last moments in between her fangs. Instead the two stared back at each other. A warm familiarity seemed to twinkle in her eyes ever so slightly, as if a piece of her still remained. Baba Roga stared at the two in disbelief. “That’s an order, girl, kill this monster or I’ll do it myself.” As Baba Roga reached over to crush Peter herself, Lyana raised her claws and sunk them into the witches chest. At first, she seemed unfazed by the strike, until that same black blood oozed from the cavity.

She shrieked in disbelief, unable to remain unfazed as she had been so many other times before. Lyana dropped Peter and he transformed back into human to break his fall. In a flash, the eternal moon broke, and rays of sun filled the sky once more. They reached over to Baba Roga, burning her flesh as she writhed in her mortality once more.

“Tinnie sends his regards.”

Baba Roga released one final piercing laugh, “My petal..you’ve released..something far deadlier than I.” A sickly smile filled her face as she looked out the window towards Zemliharos’ port one final time, before disintegrating into ash. Lyana rushed to the window, looking back at Peter, before taking flight, her wings seemingly woozy under the direct sunlight. Peter wanted to call out, to try and get her to stay, to see if there was something, anything he could do, but she was gone once again. He knew having a striga around, after everything the people of Zemliharos had been through, was out of the question. What was left of her seemed to think the same. While he wanted to curl into a ball upon her disappearance, the ground itself began to shake, and the sound of shattering stone boomed through the air. It was as if the world itself was quivering in fear. Then Peter heard it, the sound of a dragon, the call of what he would come to know as Ljubljana.