Confession

The ashes no longer smelled of smoke.

Someone had gathered the broken stones into the shape of a cross.

The uppermost stone bore a simple inscription. ‘Shkrat the Domovoy’.

“Oh, Shkrat… I will never forget you.”

Milena held the pocket watch in one hand, a white rose in the other. She laid the flower upon the middle stone, then lowered her head in silent gratitude.

“If only I knew what you wanted to say to me…”

She lingered for another moment before turning away.

“I can help you with that.” A soothing voice suddenly spoke to her from behind.

Milena froze.

For a heartbeat, she wondered whether someone from Nav had answered her prayer.

She slowly looked over her shoulder.

A man sat casually atop the gravestone, as though it were the most natural seat in the world.

Veles.

Milena’s grip closed around the watch.

“What are you doing on his grave?” She narrowed her eyes. “And who are you?”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” He hopped off the stone and gave her a polite bow. “I’m just a humble God of Trade is all.”

“So you’re Veles. Veles the Negotiator.”

“At your service, madam.”

“Then you'd better leave. I'm not particularly in the mood for another god.”

“Ho-ho-ho. Sassy, aren’t we?” He raised his hands in surrender, his white gloves spotless as always. “Is this how you greet a god after witnessing divine power firsthand?” His eyes gleamed with a faint golden light.

“I’ve heard about you.” Milena stepped closer until only a few paces separated them. “You’re nothing more than a harmless pet compared to the others.”

Veles blinked. “That’s my reputation?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t argue with that. I was never a big fan of brute force like that stupid blond dude.”

“Why are you here? Did you come to see whether Perun did a good job? And then you will go back and pet his head? Or will you take even more from me so you can both laugh like two morons?” She leaned so close their faces were only inches apart.

“Damn, you’re intense!” Veles recoiled, nearly stumbling backward. “Don’t come any closer!” Then he cleared his throat. “I'm here to make a deal.”

“Are you able to bring the dead back?” Her voice was suddenly calm. “Can you rebuild the mill?” She took another step. “Can you…” She paused. Then sighed. “Or maybe just tell me how to keep the bread fresh past three days.”

Veles studied her for a brief moment before smiling. “Yes and yes to the last two, if that’s what you’d like. But unfortunately, nobody can bring the dead back. Well, more or less.”

Milena frowned. “More or less, huh? What does that mean? And what do you want?”

“No, that’s not the right question,” he pointed at her. “The question is… what do you want?”

Milena lowered her gaze to the pocket watch. “Apparently, nothing important enough that you could give me.” She turned and started walking away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend my father’s funeral… You know. The one your kind killed just like that.” Her voice trembled.

“You will find what you seek.” His voice carried effortlessly across the ruined hill. “It’ll be waiting in Prav.”

Her footsteps stopped.

After several seconds, she finally spoke without turning around.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“The folktales say you don’t lie.”

“It’s rude to talk about someone behind their back!”

“Anyway…” she sighed. “…I’m not suited to be a bohatier.” She looked at the ruined mill. “I’m too weak.”

“Well, sell it to me.”

“’It’?”

Veles' golden eyes met hers.

“Your weakness.”

***

Since dawn, Dragomir had remained motionless atop the rocky overlook. His eyes searched the crowd for only one face.

“Did they already start?” Zduhach appeared beside him out of nowhere, knocking over Dragomir's walking stick. A cloth bundle tied to one end hit the rocks with a loud metallic clatter.

Dragomir tried to ignore it.

“You didn’t even know the miller. Why are you here?”

“Well, I wanted to pay respects to someone my friend knew.”

“Your friend?”

Zduhach pointed at Dragomir as he grinned. “You.”

The boy was insufferable.

Dragomir had forgotten what it felt like to be remembered by anyone but spirits.

And yet, having someone other than Shkrat notice him... no longer felt impossible.

“Thank you for calling all those people for help… if it wasn’t for you...”

“Don’t mention it!”

The six acolytes walked in perfect silence. Only their shoes echoed against the stone paths between the graves. Between them rested the miller's coffin. Fresh earth surrounded the open grave.

And then there was Milena, refusing to let go of the wooden coffin. She caressed it as if it could feel something.

“Dear mourners, we gather here today to bid farewell to another of our departed brethren.”

The hinges groaned. The holy men opened the lid, but Milena refused to loosen her grip until two acolytes carefully pried her fingers away.

The priest approached the miller. Then he placed three coins inside his mouth. One by one, the coins clicked softly against the miller's teeth. He tied a braided cord around one wrist. Black soot stained the priest's thumb as he marked the miller's forehead.

“May both of your dushe find peace in eternity.”

The ropes tightened. Slowly, the coffin disappeared beneath the earth.

The first handful of soil struck the lid with a dull thud.

Milena’s shoulders trembled. Her sobs were ever so silent. Yet Dragomir felt them the loudest.

His hands curled into fists.

I’m so sorry… this is all my fault. But just you wait…

“I bet he was a good guy.” Zduhach rested his hand on Dragomir’s shoulder, as Dragomir’s eyes flooded with tears.

“Yeah…” Dragomir lowered his gaze. The first tear struck the back of his clenched hand. “And… Shkrat, too.”

“Bring forth the failure!” The priest ordered.

A few moments later, Levoslav the Bohatier, or at least his lifeless body, sat on the mocking throne before the people once again.

Milena blew her nose into a napkin and turned to leave.

“People of Yav!”

Someone’s voice made her look back. Dragomir stood before the mocking throne, his back turned to Levoslav. Milena lowered her napkin as she watched the scene.

“Who are you and why are you interrupting the sacred ritual?” The priest hissed.

“My name is Dragomir. If Levoslav didn’t fail, you would have known me by my title. Dragomir the Bohatier.”

As murmurs spread through the cemetery, a startled crow burst from the old oak and circled above Dragomir.

“I won’t make any excuses.” Dragomir’s voice cracked. “We are the sole reason all of you have been suffering.”

The crowd froze.

But the priest stepped forward. “If you were the second bohatier, we would have remembered you. Now stop with this nonsense and be gone.”

“I have lost something precious.” He looked at Milena, who met his eyes. “And I will take it back.”

Dragomir reached for the wooden stake clutched in the priest’s hands. The priest pulled it back, but Dragomir seized it before he could react. Then he raised it like a trophy.

“People say that we Slavs were born to suffer. But I… disagree. We were born to fight.”

Then, before anyone could stop him, he drove the stake through Levoslav’s heart for all to see.

Zduhach jumped down from the rocky overlook.

The acolytes flinched.

“Count me in! My name is Zduhach! You better remember me, because unlike Levoslav, I will actually succeed!”

Then he took an arrow from his quiver and rammed it through Levoslav’s head.

The priest gasped.

Before he could utter another word, Dragomir and Zduhach vanished into the sea of mourners.

Cries of confusion echoed through the cemetery, but neither of them looked back.

Once they had left it behind, Zduhach casually whistled a merry tune, as though nothing extraordinary had just happened.

“I can’t believe you were Levoslav’s partner all along!”

“I already told you my name. You should have known it was me.”

“Debilmir, Dragomir… I know at least four people with names like that, you’re not special!”

Dragomir sighed. “Just make sure you don’t die.”

“A powerful duo! Zduhach and Debilmir, two bohatiers on an adventure!”

“But are you really ready to become a bohatier? You must be prepared to lose everything.”

“Yup! I have to do this for my mother.”

“That reminds me, how can you remember me? When we met for the first time, you said nobody knew who the second bohatier was.”

“Yeah, but I never said that I didn’t know a thing or two.”

“You’re not human, are you?”

“Hey you two!”

A female voice called after them.

They both looked back to see Milena running toward them, clutching her long skirt in both hands.

Could it be…?

“Shkrat was right!” She finally caught up to them, breathing heavily.

“That’s the miller’s daughter, isn’t she?” Zduhach whispered in Dragomir’s ear.

He nodded.

“The moment you stood before Levoslav... something inside me told me I couldn't let you leave.”

“Milena, I-“

“Move!” She brushed past Dragomir without even looking at him.

“Your name was Zduhach, you said?” She grabbed his hand and Zduhach flinched. “I feel like this is fate.”

The words died on Dragomir's lips.

Her eyes filled with both sorrow and determination as she pleaded, “Please. Take me with you to Prav!”

Chapter 6: END