The Serpent

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Vasilisa’s mind slowly stirred. In the darkness of her half-consciousness she felt a strange sensation of floating, of weightlessness. The kind of feeling that she had often dreamed of, but which her mind could never chase down to recall in the waking world. Was this a dream, then?

Her eyes opened - and her heart stood still.

She was surrounded by a black void dotted with countless gleaming lights. Far and near at once, clouds of mauve and violet swirled, pierced by pale blue streaks of lightning that wove intricate webs before fading. Silence pressed on her, suffocating and absolute. Even her own breath made no sound.

Looking down, she gasped. Her hands, her sleeves, her hair—everything dripped and melted into the void, only to reform, like paint reshaped by an unseen artist. Her body seemed liquid, her dress a shifting wave of color barely winning the fight to maintain its form. All-consuming fear took her—it felt as though one wrong movement might scatter her entirely, dissolving her into this endless astral sea.

Her breath came faster, her body paralyzed. If she moved, would she lose herself? Her mind raced, unable to grasp how she had come to this place. The worries of the past day—if it had been a day—now seemed trivial. Marriage to a khan was nothing compared to this alien terror. She thought to pray but faltered. What god could reach her here? Perun, Mokosh — names once powerful now felt meaningless in this realm of endless, silent light.

Suddenly two of the gleaming dots of light across the void began to move. As the blackness of nothing began to take shape around the shining stars, Vasilisa saw the gleaming dots become pools of molten gold.

Do not be afraid. Chirlan’s soft voice echoed through her mind. His face emerged from nothingness, and parts of the void began to peel away, taking shape into a long, formless robe speckled with lights. Above, constellations traced golden lines before fading, revealing clawed, gold-tipped fingers within their glow. Chirlan drifted toward her, his cloak trailing faint golden traces in the void.

Where have you taken me? Vasilisa’s thoughts cut sharply, charged with malice to mask the terror gnawing at her. When the sorcerer drew nearer, she instinctively jerked back, expecting the sorcerer to do her harm.

Instead, she felt the cool touch of his golden hand clasping hers gently. Opening her eyes, she saw her form solidify, no longer bleeding into the void. The sorcerer’s touch, unexpectedly tender, strangely stirred curiosity rather than fear. Before she could react, Chirlan pulled her through the darkness, her kaftan’s feathered trim leaving faint golden trails behind.

Why speak, when I can show you? Chirlan’s voice echoed in her mind. Flying effortlessly across the void, her hand in his, Vasilisa gazed at distant clouds and shimmering stars. Terror melted into wonder as she listened to faint, whispering voices trailing off as they soared onward.

Those stars…I can hear them speaking, whispered Vasilisa in her mind. What is this place?

The stars are not speaking. They are dreaming. And soon, they will awaken.

What will happen then? Vasilisa focused her hearing, trying to catch hints from whispers, but it was futile to focus on any single voice. So many lights…so many dreams. But whose? Who are they?

They are all children, existing in this realm and yours, spoke Chirlan. The bond between their minds ran both ways - Vasilisa could feel a tinge of sadness upon the sorcerer’s thoughts. Though they have not visited ours in an age.

The astral landscape shifted as Chirlan carried them further. The scattered mauve and violet hues suddenly enveloped everything, as they plunged into a swirling cloud. Tiny crystals danced across her vision, reflecting blue streaks that flowed through the mist like strokes of a quill. Then gradually, their flight slowed until Vasilisa’s feet touched something solid, though she saw only endless clouds below.

Crystal-clear glass, she wondered. What is this place, truly?

She looked up to the sorcerer, who towered over her his shifting liquid robe. His expression was suddenly grim - he was looking further ahead, focusing on something beyond the drifting colors. With a wave of his gauntleted hand the clouds swirled aside and a blinding pale light flooded the cloudy domain.

A bright, pale sun burned before her eyes, casting Chirlan into shadow as he released her and walked towards the burning sun. As Vasilisa’s eyes slowly adjusted to the light, she noticed something circling the sun.

Her eyes followed the pointed tip of a stone mass, which grew into a long trail of segmented, smooth rock. Her eyes continued to follow the trail until the sun’s zenith, where it ended at a strange, malformed rock. As she dared to open her eyes further, the realization of what she was looking at dawned upon her - a long serpentine spine, ending at a great skull.

The massive stone skull looked burned, even melted in some places where sharp edges gave way to smooth, flowing curves cracked by heat. Hollow eye sockets, scarred and empty, stared at her with a lifeless gaze. An aquiline beak, locked open in a silent cry, jutted forward. Dark imprints along the base of the skull resembled feathers, haunting echoes of a disappeared feathered might.

She felt a strange sensation in her head as she beheld the monstrous skeleton - as if something was scratching at the inside of her skull. She closed her eyes, rubbed her temples, but the feeling only seemed to worsen. Vasilisa lowered herself to one knee as the pain in her skull magnified by a thousand, and she cried out silently into the void.

Chirlan turned to face her, but all she could see were the molten pools of gold framed in shadow. Shadows began to inch and creep across the landscape and the burning sun until her world fell into darkness once more - and all she saw were the two golden eyes staring at her agony without pity.

She screamed into the shadows again as the scratching inside her skull ravaged her mind, carving with white-hot claws that brought her to the ground writhing in anguish. She screamed until her lungs burned and her throat felt as though it would rip, and dug her fingernails into her forehead. She imagined if she could burrow into her skull, she could tear out the scratching, thrashing monster - to die would be preferable to the scorching-hot pain that lanced through her body.

Something cold slipped between her ribs, and suddenly the pain stopped, replaced by an icy feeling that spread from her heart through her chest like flowing water. Vasilisa gave a rasping breath and her eyes flew open, matching Chirlan’s own golden eyes. The sorcerer was kneeling over her, so close she could almost feel his tense heartbeat in the suffocating silence of the void. She looked down at her chest to see the source of the cold that radiated through her body, and saw one of Chirlan’s clawed hands buried up to the wrist inside her chest - just next to her left breast, clasping her heart.

But strangely, she felt no pain - only a calming sense of cold and drowsiness. Whatever solid floor held her firm in the clouds seemed to disappear, and once more Vasilisa felt herself floating gently through the black abyss. She focused on the sorcerer’s visage, traced the faint lines on his face with her eyes as Chirlan’s dark, flowing form closed in around her, and the sorcerer’s other golden-clawed hand held her tight. She tried to grasp at the golden-clad wrist, wrench the hand free from her heart, but her fingers felt leaden, unresponsive. As her grasp slowly slipped from Chirlan’s wrist and the drowsy cold spread through her soul, she saw the sorcerer’s lips part.

A soft, whispered phrase cut through the silence of the darkness before Vasilisa’s eyes slid shut.

“Gods of mine: fire, earth, and stars above. Accept my blood, my spirit, and my love.”

***

Cool waves lapped against Vasilisa’s body, pasting her silken clothes to her skin as they washed over her and receded. A cold breeze blew, sending a violent shiver through Vasilisa as she awakened.

The echo of water droplets and the gentle lapping waves reassured her of reality, but for a long while she kept her eyes shut. Her mind still burned with the vision of the blinding star, and the hollow pits of the skull that leered at her with its dreadful gaze. To open her eyes and see it again would destroy her.

When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Chirlan above her, his face framed by darkness. His eyes were no longer golden, but ordinary hazel-brown, staring lifelessly. His head was bowed low, resting just over her own - she was resting in his lap. Her mind flashed to the vision of his claws buried in her heart, filling her soul with drowsy cold. A moment passed, but the sorcerer said nothing - and Vasilisa realized with a jolt of panic that she was lying in the embrace of a corpse.

She scrambled upright, splashing in the cold, knee-high waters of the cavern pool she awakened in. Morning light streamed in through a hole in the domed ceiling, casting a beam onto the sorcerer’s body. His bare chest was exposed, revealing a yawning hole where his heart had been. The wound was fresh - crimson streams bled into the water, staining it red bit by bit. Her own chest burned with fear as she recalled the vision - was her heart gone too?

She ran her fingers over her soaked dress and felt a sharp pain on her finger. Pulling back, she saw a small cut and shakily pulled down her dress as far as it allowed, squinting at her chest.

A dozen crystals protruded from her chest, as if erupted from her heart. They rose and fell in time with her breathing - sucking away the morning light, revealing visions of the suffocating nothing within their cores.

One crystal, fist-sized and and lodged right in the center of her breast, overshadowed the rest. Though she felt her chest rise and fall with her panicked breathing, she felt no lively thrum of a beating heart beneath her skin. Her mind still whirled from the visions of the astral sea - Vasilisa felt the urge to scream, but her voice failed her - the chords of her throat felt sore. Did she scream in the waking world as in the dream? Was it even a dream?

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She looked at the unmoving Chirlan, his head bowed low. His heart was missing, and her own was replaced with an abomination. Fury and despair swirled within her. She wanted to shake the sorcerer, slap him across the face for answers, but knew that she’d find none in his cold flesh. Her world spun as she looked down at the crystals once again, her hand curling into a fist over her impaled chest. Panicked tears welled in her eyes, overwhelming. What would she do? How was she still alive? Where would she go?

Anywhere but here, she thought to herself. She rose shakily, stepping out of the pool. The dim morning light revealed the sharp hewn walls curving into a narrow passage, sloping deeper into shadow. She redid her dress, forcing thoughts of survival and escape over the abomination of her own heart.

She recalled Chirlan’s guards - the cloaked figures with silvered masks and sabers. Her fingers brushed her belt, and she was relieved to find her pouches intact. Carefully, she retrieved the crystal her mother had passed to her an eternity ago - a fragment of the same kind that pierced her heart.

I am still alive. I still draw breath. Gripping the shard tightly, the edged bit into her hand, drawing blood. The thought of dueling one of Chirlan’s guards with such a tiny weapon seemed absurd in her mind, but it was all she had.

With hesitant steps, Vasilisa went on into the passage. Silence pressed in all around, broken only by the faint dripping of her clothes and her slow, scared breathing.

Her left hand traced the weathered stone walls as she descended, soon darkness swallowed the last of the morning light at her back. She became acutely aware of the deepening slope of the hallway, and wondered if she was coming down from a mountain, or plunging deep into the bowels of the earth. Just as she began to despair that she’d walk forever, she noticed a flicker of light up ahead.

The room she entered was circular, and illuminated by a single burning incense stick that lay in a golden bowl atop an altar. The sweet, floral scent filled the whole chamber, and around the altar lay a dozen other extinguished sticks, their ashes scattered.

The room was ringed by the shades of other archways. There were a dozen - each identical and unmarked, betraying no sign of their paths. The crushing feeling of being completely lost crept over her, only to be interrupted by a small voice.

“You most certainly do not belong here.”

Vasilisa startled at the sound of the soft voice. It came from her feet, as if someone had crawled up to her on all fours. She imagined Chirlan’s leering face emerging from the shadows and stepped back, pointing her crystal dagger downwards.

As her eyes adjusted, she saw no human figure, but rather a tiny serpent slithering along the ground - no thicker than her index finger, no longer than half a foot. It twisted itself into a small coil, and fixed gleaming black eyes onto her. To her shock, the voice came from it.

“Human,” the serpent regarded her flatly, as if it were a normal thing for a serpent to address a human. “You seem lost.”

Her head throbbed as she grappled with the insanity of it - and the insanity of her replying.

“I am. A man brought me here. His name is- was…Chirlan,” she whispered, grimacing as she heard every syllable bouncing down the shadowed hallways. “I need to get out of here. Do you know the way, little serpent?”

The serpent flicked its tongue, tasting the air. In the brief moment that passed Vasilisa caught herself from marveling at the strange, scintillating scales that the serpent bore - every scale seemed to shine a different color in the dim orange light of the incense stick. Finally, the serpent uncoiled and answered.

“I do know the way. But it is so very far, and we serpents move slowly.”

“I can carry you.” Vasilisa said quickly.

“Then the matter is settled.”

Vasilisa carefully kneeled down, offering her left hand. The serpent slithered onto her finger, its scales sleek and glossy on her skin. The serpent slowly coiled around her pointing finger, then turned to face her once more. “A pact - your gentle hand for my endless wisdom.”

“Seems a fair trade,” Vasilisa smirked. Already the terror of the dark was receding ever so slightly. Speaking, even to a snake, breathed new life into her soul. She was alive - alive enough to quip, to breathe, to fight her way out.

The serpent pointed itself towards one of the middle archways, acting as an extension of her hand. She followed, her left hand outstretched with her guide, and her right prepared to strike with her dagger. Without a free hand to steady herself on the walls, her steps felt clumsy and uncertain, and she nearly smacked into a wall as the hallway turned sharply.

A low breeze blew down the hallway, sending another shiver through her as the wind pricked a dozen needles of cold through her damp clothes. Yet the wind carried a promise - escape, sunlight, and open skies. Fighting the urge to rush, she whispered to the serpent the question that lingered in her mind since it first coiled around her hand.

“Why are you helping me? Did your masters treat you poorly?”

“Certainly not,” replied the serpent, coiling to the left as the hallway took another turn. “And they are not my masters. You simply do not belong here - I want to guide you to where you should be.”

“And that would be?”

“Outside. Free to roam, sing, write, and think all manner of things you humans do. Not rot here in this stone coffin, grim and dim.”

The serpent’s reply only bred more questions, but they were cut short by muffled footsteps, and the ring of metal.

“Someone comes. To your left!” the serpent hissed.

Vasilisa groped blindly about in the darkness until she felt the stone walls to her left give way to a small nook. She pressed herself into it as three candle flames appeared. Their glow revealed the silver mask of one of Chirlan’s guards. The helmet’s demonic visage, twisted into an even further by the dancing shadows, revealed two glowing golden eyes. The rings of the guard’s sheath rang rhythmically as the guard marched down the hall.

He will see me once he crosses, surely. The thought tightened her chest. Her breathing halted, and she squeezed the crystal even tighter, emptying her mind of all thoughts as the clinking rhythmic footsteps drew nearer.

My daughter will fight. The words of her mother came to her mind, became a low mantra as blood dripped from her wounded hand onto the cold stone. My daughter will fight.

The footsteps grew closer - candlelight crept around the corner of the tight alcove.

My daughter will fight.

I will fight.

Vasilisa of Belnopyl sprang from her hiding place at the last moment, and slammed the guard with all her might into the stone wall. He grunted, cursing in a hissing tongue. She punched the crystal under the rim of his helmet and into his throat, burying it deep through silk and flesh.

The candle-holder fell with a loud clang, and a guttural cry sounded from behind the silver mask. Vasilisa ripped the crystal free, and hot blood rushed out from the guard’s throat, soaking her hand.

The guard, grunting like a stuck pig, lashed out with an elbow and knocked the air from her lungs. As Vasilisa doubled over and gasped, she saw the guard staggering, one hand clutching at his bleeding neck while the other fumbled for his sword.

The blade hissed free, its tip pointed at her. The guard advanced, life ebbing as blood pooled beneath him. Desperate, Vasilisa’s gaze darted about—and landed on her left hand.

“I’m sorry, little serpent!”

Vasilisa hurled her hissing, scaled guide at the advancing guard. The serpent squarely on his chest. The guard recoiled, glancing down in alarm, and she lunged forward, scooping the candle-holder off the ground.

A loud clang sounded as she smashed the candle-holder into the guard’s face, denting his mask. She then smashed his hand, cracking bone and causing him to drop his sword. Vasilisa caught the heavy saber and cleaved through silk and flesh, splitting the man from shoulder to hip. He collapsed in a lifeless heap, the fight leaving him with a final croak.

Panting, Vasilisa loosened her grip on the unwieldy saber, far heavier than the balanced swords she trained with under her mother and Ilya. The searing pain of the crystal in her hand forced her to return it to its pouch. She wiped her bloodied hand on her drying dress, wincing as the open cuts grazed the coarse fabric.

Just in front of the guard’s bloody corpse the serpent uncoiled itself from a tight ball and fixed Vasilisa with its impassive, animal stare.

“Are you hurt?” Vasilisa whispered, kneeling to examine it. “I’m sorry for throwing you at him.”

“The choice was between throwing me or dying,” mused the serpent, its tongue flicking in and out as it tasted the metallic air. “I bear you no ill will. Had I been the one with legs and you without, I’m sure I would have done the same.”

“You don’t hate me for it?” asked Vasilisa, a faint, self-conscious smile curling her lips at the absurdity of asking a serpent such a question.

“Of course not. Your survival matters far more than the survival of a lowly serpent - wouldn’t you agree?” said the serpent as it coiled around her offered hand. “They say we serpents are ill creatures - the servants of deceit and ruin. But come now, your freedom is almost at hand.”

Vasilisa tucked the saber with its sheath into her belt, then allowed the serpent to slither higher onto her arm. In her other hand she held up the candle-holder, whose lights continued to burn. The hallway ahead rounded another corner, and she nearly tripped as the ground dropped into a short flight of stairs.

The candles illuminated a large, circular chamber supported by a dozen pillars as she stepped inside. Across the room, a pair of tall stone doors stood ajar, and through the gap a blinding ray of sunlight struck her directly across the eyes.

A breeze blew in, snuffing out the candle flames. She dropped the holder and rushed for the doors, pulling desperately at one. Her tired muscles ached in protest, but she dug her heels in and heaved with all her might. The door ground loudly against the stone floor as she pulled it further and further open, flooding the room with sunlight. Finally, with a resounding crash with a final crash, the doorway stood fully open.

Her injured hand continued to drip blood, but the pain numbed for a brief moment as she stood and greedily drank in the fresh air from the world beyond. Then, she felt a weight fall from her arm. The serpent had uncoiled itself and landed softly on the floor.

“Go now, while you have the chance,” muttered the serpent.

“Are you not coming with me? I can take you,” replied Vasilisa, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she beheld the serpent in the light of day.

“We serpents have poor vision and many hunters on the outside,” said the serpent as it slowly turned back to the darkened hallways. “Here, it is nice and dark - comfortable and quiet.”

“So this is farewell?”

“For a time, perhaps.”

Vasilisa took a few steps towards the intoxicating glow of the outside world. She heard the distant calls of birds, the chittering of unseen insects, and the whispers of the wind playing along tall grasses. She turned to say a final goodbye to the talking serpent. But when she looked back it was already slithering away, retreating into one of the many winding, shadowed halls of her prison.

As Vasilisa stepped across the threshold of the stone doors she heard a final call at her back before the noise of the outside world drowned out all else.

“Farewell, Vasilisa.”