The next few days were spent teaching Risa the rituals she must perform each morning and evening. They were not complicated, and Risa took to them like a duck to water. Once she had been shown a couple of times how to move through the forms and to properly blank her mind, she carried on as if she had been doing them for her entire short life.

Am I doing this right, Mr. Laslo? My arms hurt when I hold them like this for too long,” Risa complained.

Laszlo sighed and corrected her posture. “How does that feel, Risa?” he asked softly.

Risa smiled and said, “That’s much better! Thank you Mr. Laszlo! I’m moving too far forward, aren’t I?”

Laszlo nodded, saying, “Yes. I’m glad you’re realizing it now, instead of days down the line. It is always easier to correct a bad habit in the beginning.”

During this time, Laszlo also taught the child how to understand the concepts for reading and writing. She grasped them like a lost man to the hand of a rescuer, and her pace moved swiftly after that. He remained in awe of her ability to grasp the concepts of the written symbols.

Sinta, thankfully, had been true to her word, returning frequently with a hare or two, some birds, and even a boar, on one occasion.

“Sinta! You brought down this boar on your own?” Laszlo asked in wonder. It was a rather large boar, and would feed the three of them for some time.

“I sure did!” Sinta said, self-satisfied. “I got lucky while I was scanning for deer from a tree a few days ago, and ‘ol Blunderbutt here walked right in front of me. Took him with a single arrow. He ran for about a minute before he bled out. Easiest trail I’ve ever followed. I would, however, like to have his tusks. Every hunter has a trophy, after all.”

“Of course! Why, even I have a trophy from a kill,” Laszlo said proudly, motioning to a rabbit pelt tacked onto his wall.

Sinta smiled and nodded. “Very impressive, Mr. Holy Man. Everyone should feel proud of their accomplishments, no matter what they are,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Laszlo reddened at the praise. “Let’s get this boar taken care of, shall we?” The other two nodded, and they set to work.

Not long after Risa’s arrival, a messenger appeared in the town square, asking after him. Once a villager had informed him, Laszlo excused himself from her daily lessons and went to meet with the man.

“I am Laszlo Syvin. To what do I owe your visit?” he asked cordially.

“I have been informed that of your associates in the south, two have met with unfortunate fates, one was imprisoned for torture, and the other three report nothing. I have no news from the west or east, and the north reports failures,” he said in a blank monotone.

Laszlo sighed. He expected as much. Every year, it was the same. With the weather turning, families and villages were staying closer together and not venturing far from their homesteads. He counted himself lucky to have had just this one, even if she were not likely to be of any help. “I see. Thank your contacts and inform them to cease their searches until I call again. No sense in doing anything useless,” he replied, handing the man a small, clinking pouch.

The man nodded, and wandered off, heading back to wherever he hailed from. Laszlo sighed and returned to his hut, where he heard a soft melody coming from within.

Hush, my child; sleep, my child

Let The Mother wrap you well

In her arms, you do lie

In her heart, you will

Ever be.

Hush, my child; sleep, my child

I pray your rest is mild

In your slumber you will sigh

As you cross that hill

To me.

Laszlo smiled. It was a tune as old as time itself. A lullaby that had been sung to him as a babe. Risa must be getting more comfortable in his home. Especially if she were singing.

“Risa?” he called out as he opened his door. “Risa, I was wondering if you would like to get a sweetroll? The baker will be finishing his bread soon, and if we hurry, it can be hot.”

Risa started from her work, her heart hammering in her ears. She hadn’t expected to have been heard. She stared back at him, her eyes wide and dilated, her breath coming in heaving gasps.

“Mr. Laszlo! I-I-I didn’t know you were coming back so soon. Please forgive me! I’m sorry for talking out of turn,” she babbled, tears welling up in her eyes.

Laszlo walked over to her and knelt, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Hush now, child. You’ve nothing to apologize for.” He sighed. “I may have been too rude to you when you came to me. I’m not used to people, much less children. It’s been quiet here for thirty years. I’m old, Risa. I have no children and have never taken a wife. At forty-five, I may not see too many more winters. It’s been…nice… having you here. Do as you feel you need to in order to be as content with your stay here as you must. Just be mindful that I may not want to talk much. And stay out of my workshop. That is still a must. As is keeping the demon out of the village. You are still here for a reason, after all. Now, how about that sweetroll?” he said, a soft smile on his pale face.

Risa sniffled and nodded. She stood, and Laszlo took her hand. The pair walked out for a treat at the baker.

A few days later, after dinner, Laszlo walked out to study the skies. Auguries from Svarog were easiest to see at night. Nowhere near as potent as during the day, but still workable.

He wandered over to the stream just outside the village and gazed upwards, seeking a sign. As he gazed upwards, he saw that The Chariot was spilling its grain. As he watched, transfixed, he saw one of the stars from The Chariot fall from the dome of the sky, landing in the woods nearby with a deep, reverberating thud.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Mentally marking the location, he rushed back to his hut. Once inside, he cautioned Risa to stay put.

“I’ve seen a sign from Svarog. I must go now to retrieve it. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Continue as you have been. I will return soon,” he said, grabbing a cloak, torch and belting his copper knife to his waist.

Risa nodded and told him to be careful. Laszlo nodded to her and lit the torch from the hearth-fire. He headed out, and crossed the bridge into the woods.

On his way there, he saw the light of a fire in the trees. Could this be where Sinta housed herself? He slowly approached the firelight, and saw no sign of a person nearby. In fact, the ground itself was aflame.

Cautiously, Laszlo approached the flaming earth, seeing a deep crater ringed by the flames. Looking around, he saw no other person nearby, and heard no animal sounds. The demon could always be nearby, but he doubted it would approach him, protected as he was by Svarog’s power.

Peering inside the crater, he saw a small, fist-sized stone within. Gingerly, he reached into the wide crater, and touched the stone. It was slightly warm to the touch, though not very. Pulling it out, he noted that it was very heavy. Much heavier than its size would dictate.

Giving thanks to Svarog, he began the trek back to his home. On the way, he noted that the moon had just begun to peek above the horizon. Tomorrow was the full moon. Perhaps he would show Risa his workshop tomorrow. For now, he had to decipher this sign.

************

Risa stared after the man as he left. He wasn’t bad, just odd. Certainly not like her mother had warned. There had been no attempt to force her into his bed, nor any violence on his part. Perhaps her Nana Marishka had just had a bad encounter? At any rate, she was able to read. Not very much, and not very well, but she was able to make sense of the weird squiggles on the rough scrolls, now. She resolved to teach Katira when they got back home to her mother.

Speaking of Katira, she had had few conversations with her since she arrived. The last one was a couple of days ago during her visit to the privy. She had snuck the tiny bear into her cloak as she left.

“I see that you are getting on well with Laszlo, Risa. Is there anything I can do to help you deal with it?” Katira had asked.

Risa shook her head, whispering, “I don’t think so, Katira. He seems to just want to ‘cleanse’ me of you, and this is what his family or order has done for five hundred years.”

“As long as you are sure. I will remain where I was unless and until you need me. Although, when you leave the hut, I do worry,” Katira stated.

“I know. I wish you could come with me, but nobody would believe I had found a tiny bear. Besides, I am not gone for long,” Risa said, finishing her business.

Katira nodded, and hid herself away inside the cloak as they went back to the hut.

Now, however, she was alone in the hut, tending to the fire in the hearth. She lazily poked it with a stick, watching the flames swirl and dance up the sooty chimney. She lit a candle, and set it on the table, opening the scrolls detailing her family’s connection with Katira.

It seemed that the first person had suffered from growths and headaches, which led to the intervention of Svarog’s priests. There were details of rituals and herbs used to treat the headaches, and the removal of the painful growths. Risa shuddered and searched for the records from her grandmother.

It seemed that the priest from back then had been Laszlo’s father. He described a happy child in her grandmother, always chattering and playing. It seemed her grandmother had been younger than she was when she came here. There were details of the rituals that had been undertaken, culminating in a cleansing bath in the stream on the first full moon of spring. At least she knew what to expect.

Risa shuffled through the many scrolls, hoping to find something interesting when she came upon the notes of someone named Zachariah.

The writing was terribly messy and extremely difficult to read, but Risa slowly pieced it all together. Zachariah seemed to have owned this collection of scrolls before the priests of Svarog, and had taken pains to record some rituals of his own.

Why he had recorded them on only the bottoms of the scrolls was a mystery to Risa, but she dared not argue with a dead man.

As she flipped through the sheaves of the lengthy scrolls, she saw something that caught her eye. There was mention of one called “Wolf” in the pages, and it seemed that she was just like Katira! Risa made a mental note to ask about Wolf the next time she could speak with her sweet bear.

Risa read further, fascinated by the man’s experiments. It appears he was seeking immortality. What’s more, it seemed that upon the arrival of Wolf, his very blood had new interactions with various plants! Some things he caused to catch flame, others just smoldered, and one simply vanished in a puff of smoke! It seemed as though this book had been owned by a magician at one point. She wondered idly what it would be like to be a magician.

Rolling up the dense scrolls, she closed the chest and put it back on the shelf. Growing tired, she curled up on her cot and was soon asleep.

************

Laszlo returned to his hut full of excitement. Snatching up his journals, he quickly retreated to his workshop, eager to see just what Svarog had sent him.

After praying with the stone for nearly three hours, he was no closer to a resolution. Perhaps he had to continue to show his devotion to his god and it would reveal itself in time? Sighing in exhaustion, Laszlo headed back up to his hut, determined to get some rest.

In the morning, he explained that he was unable to decipher the sign, and would be occupying himself with the stone until he was certain of its meaning. Risa seemed to understand, and he smiled.

“Would you like to see my sanctuary, child?”

Risa stared wide-eyed at him. “You mean… I can go down there?”

“I am inviting you to see my sanctuary, Risa. This isn’t a blanket invite for you to come down whenever you wish. Do you want to?” he asked again.

Risa nodded, and Laszlo walked back down the stairs. She followed, marveling at the stone that covered the walls and the ceiling.

Looking around, she saw several metal torch stands spaced around the large room. Near the back, there was a pedestal of some kind with something on it, and further, a pair of wide wooden doors. There was an old rug that lay on the floor, worm-eaten and faded. It was cozy, but odd.

“Wow. How long did it take you to build this, Mr. Laszlo?”

“My family has owned this land for generations. This sanctuary has been here the whole time. I simply built my house on top of it, for ease of access. This is where I do all my work for Svarog. It is quiet, cozy, and nobody bothers me down here. A perfect place for me to perform my rituals,” he explained.

Risa walked around the room, and tried to peer into the keyholes of the doors, seeing nothing but blackness. “What’s behind the doors, Mr. Laszlo?” she asked.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Those doors have, to my knowledge, never been opened. Indeed, it’s been so long, I doubt they can open. But this is where I will be for the foreseeable future, trying to decipher this sign. I have rolls of blank scrolls here, as well as paints. I’ll be able to record my findings, so that you may continue your study in reading and writing.

“I also expect you to maintain the hut in my absence. Make the meals and the bread, and continue with your rituals. Once I have this figured out, I will be one step closer to understanding you and your family’s demon. Can you do that for me?” he asked.

“Of course, Mr. Laszlo. I will make sure all the meals get cooked, cookware washed, and keep the hut tidy. Don’t you worry about that,” the young girl replied.

“Excellent, Risa. I appreciate your willingness to take care of things. Go back upstairs, now. I have work to do. Knock on the hatch if someone comes, or it’s time to eat,” Laszlo said, laying a hand on Risa’s head.

Risa nodded and went back upstairs, contemplating the ritual she was to perform that morning. She was such a kind child. It was a pity she was linked to that demon. Laszlo turned and focused once more on the heavy stone Svarog had sent to him.