Hostage

Dragomir dashed through the marketplace and out of the town once called Levoslavovce. Or at least, its grim copy.

“Where are you going?” Levoslav’s warm dusha asked.

“I can’t believe I forgot about Zduhach and Milena! This place is far more dangerous than I imagined!”

The hole in Dragomir’s chest had healed, but the tear in his shirt was still there.

I’d better put this thing back on. He reached into his pocket and put the ring back on his finger.

The dusty road led to the familiar mill.

“Levo, you saw what happened with that pocket watch, right? I heard a faint tick… didn’t it tick four more times or something?”

“It didn’t. It ticked only once. But I noticed the second hand jump forward by five seconds.”

“I finally get it. That thing probably doesn’t manipulate time itself. Since it belongs to Morena, it’s safer to assume it manipulates death. So back then, it skipped right over the moment we were supposed to die. What a powerful device.”

Dragomir picked up his pace. The closer he got, the colder it felt.

When he reached the mill, he burst inside without knocking.

As he tried to calm his racing heart, his eyes wandered across the hall.

Dragomir caught the familiar smell of bread baking, except the usual warmth was buried beneath the stench of sour dough and mold. He retched again.

Then he made his way into the kitchen.

“Milena!” When he turned the corner, three people sat around the table.

Milena’s face was pale. There was vomit on the floor beneath her. “D-Dragomir…? Oh my, I completely forgot about you until now!”

Milena’s two dushe hovered above her, each linked to her wrist by a thin thread. They followed the same familiar pattern, a warm dusha with closed eyes and a cold dusha with darting eyes.

What the…

The miller, Milena’s father, sat at the table with his eyes peacefully closed.

“Oh, Dragomir!”

But then the same voice came from the corner beside the oven.

“I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Another version of the miller stood there. Milena’s father again. Only this one felt much colder, with his eyes open. Still, he wasn’t nearly as panicked as Levoslav’s cold dusha.

Both bore the same signs. A soot cross marked each forehead, and a short rope was tied around each wrist. Whenever either of them spoke, the silver coins beneath his tongue flashed into view.

So this is what both quelled dushe look like…

And then a beautiful one-armed woman sat beside Milena, holding a staff.

“Mo-“ Dragomir almost said her name, but the woman wagged a finger.

“Ah, ah, ah, my old friend. You don’t want to say my name here, do you?”

Morena the Cold Bringer.

“This woman is the Queen of Nav. When I woke up here, she was waiting for me, offering to take me to the people I lost.”

“I was surprised when I saw that… relic… in Milena’s hands,” Morena said, her cold gaze fixed on Dragomir.

When Milena saw the original gods around the Golden Egg, she probably didn’t see Morena’s face. Which means she doesn’t recognize her.

“Yes… I found it in Prav during my first journey. But I gave it away after my return to Yav.”

“Indeed. That makes sense. Otherwise its owner would have found it already. But if somebody with limited knowledge has it…”

“I wonder what would happen if we broke the pocket watch?” Dragomir deliberately provoked her, hoping to draw out some information.

“It doesn’t work the same as Svarog’s hammer or Stribog’s horn.” Morena smirked. “But I see you already used up half of its functions. Time Rewind, Time Stretch and Time Skip.”

“You’re pretty knowledgeable about it, Queen.” Milena gagged as she spoke. “Do you know anything more about its abilities?”

“Why don’t we go outside and give this family some time together, Mrs. Queen?” Dragomir smiled through his gritted teeth.

“No, I think I want to stay here. It’s much warmer beside the oven.”

Morena said that, but ice had already crept across the kitchen around her. The floor beneath her staff was frozen solid. This place was anything but warm.

Dragomir’s battle-axe leaned against the wall behind Milena. He scanned the kitchen. No one else was there.

“Do you know where our friend is?” Dragomir asked the goddess.

“Our friend?” Milena tilted her head. “Do we have somebody else here?”

“Yes. I believe his name was Zduhach.” Morena scratched the back of her head with the end of her staff.

“Zduhach?” Milena frowned. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“He’s a member of our party. He’s an archer, a half-god and an idiot.”

Dragomir knew that simply telling her wouldn’t bring the memories back. For him, it had taken Levoslav’s detailed account of how they got here. For Milena, seeing Dragomir’s face had been enough.

“Here in Nav, people naturally forget about the ties they have to the living world. The stronger the tie, the more they forget. Do you know why that is?” Morena asked.

“No idea,” Milena replied.

“Because when dushe arrive in Nav, they have to feel like they belong here. Like they left nothing behind. But there are a few… exceptions.”

Morena’s eyes darted toward Levoslav’s cold dusha, who kept reaching toward the window and mumbling about having to go back.

“Without the ritual, the second dusha feels an overwhelming urge to return to the living world. Eventually, that desire distorts its entire existence.”

“And that’s how spirits are born, huh?” Milena listened with interest, though she kept her mouth and nose covered.

The stench of sour dough grew stronger.

“Just a second.” The warm miller’s dusha smiled from the table. “It will soon be ready.”

The cold dusha leaned toward the oven to check the bread.

“Milena? Please do me a favor and… wear this ring instead of me.” Dragomir touched the wedding ring, ready to take it off.

But Morena tapped her staff against the floor, cracking the ice beneath it. “You sure you want to do that?”

Milena frowned. “I have no intention of being tied in any way to that horrible person!”

Dragomir left the ring on his finger. If Morena wanted to kill Milena, she would have already done that.

But she kept her alive. It was clear to Dragomir that Morena was practically holding Milena hostage.

Removing the ring would mean becoming vulnerable. Against an empowered Morena, he couldn’t be sure what would happen next.

Finding Zduhach, the strongest member of their party, had to come before any reckless move.

“Say… Queen of Nav… how long have you been ruling this place?”

“Do you actually know each other?” Milena interrupted.

“Kind of.”

“I know what you’re asking, Dragomir. And the real answer is no. I wasn’t the ruler before a certain pair of gods died.”

So it’s my fault. Again. Dragomir’s mind raced. Morena is positioned between me and my battle-axe. It would take me too long to grab it and cut her head off. Besides, even if I did have a means to kill her, all she’d have to do is say a few words and Milena would learn who the owner of her pocket watch is. I should have done something about it sooner. Next time Milena and I are alone, I’m gonna trade this ring for her pocket watch, no matter what it takes.

“Hello, Milena.”

His internal monologue was cut short by a female voice.

“M-mom…”

Milena’s eyes welled up as soon as she saw her standing in the door.

She looked strikingly like Milena, unchanged from the day she had died in the field.

She had no soot cross or any of the other ritual markings, but her eyes were closed and her aura felt warm.

“I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I am happy to see you. And don’t try to follow my other half. It’s not your fault.” Her mother was carrying mushrooms, though every one of them looked poisonous.

Milena stood up and hugged her mother. “Mom…!” Milena’s dushe joined in the embrace. “I’m so sorry for what happened. I’m so sorry…”

“Look at our daughter.” The cold miller stopped checking the sour-smelling bread. “She apologized for my death, too. And it wasn’t even her fault.”

“That was my fault…” Dragomir lowered his gaze. “And I am truly sorry for bringing Milena with me here.”

“It’s alright, Dragomir.” The warm miller stood up from the table and placed his hand on Dragomir’s shoulder. “You have your own problems right now.”

“What problems?”

“Dragomir…” Milena lifted her head from her mother’s chest. “You didn’t realize?”

Dragomir blinked, waiting for an explanation.

“Your dushe…” she said. “You don’t have any of your own.”

Chapter 37: END