Anyanka scolded herself as she moved through the wheat fields with haste. Her tardiness was something she had often been chastised for, yet here she was, late for her village's most sacred of rituals. Vebraya, or 'the choosing,' was a solemn event, unlike the other festivities her kin hosted. Instead of fermented spirits and bonfires and dances, her tiring legs were propelling her towards a threat that only fate could instill.

Chest heaving from her run, Anyanka slowed her pace and attempted to slink into the back of the crowd that had gathered in the square. Smoothing her long skirt, she nonchalantly brushed away plant matter, erasing any evidence of her short-cut. Surely, no one would realize that she had missed the 'bell ringing' and half of Elder Neustroev's address to the people. It was still mid-morning after all, and the 'stone casting' was a lengthy process. People had to duck in and out all the time, considering animals and children still needed attention on holy days.

"Tut tut," a low voice said, as to not draw attention. Kot stood at her side, and though he was three years her senior, he only reached her elbow. They often joked that he would no longer be able to use his glorious, dirty blond curls to pad his height when he lost all his hair to old age. "You're far too tall to be sneaky," he said, a smile paying at his lips.

The young woman, petite in stature, gave him an incredulous look but said nothing. The last thing she needed was to make a scene to accentuate her disregard for the sanctity of their customs.

Instead, she flicked his ear.

Then it was her turn to smile. As Kot held back a boisterous reaction, Anya kept her gaze locked on the happenings in the center of town. The fact that she was actually blinded to the events taking place was indeed because she was watching Kot, in his quiet rage, from her peripheral vision. Priorities.

"Wait..." Anya trailed. Something had shifted in the people. It was in the air, a sort of ominous vibe that reverberated through the masses and wafted up into the skies to contaminate the very atmosphere. They had missed something important.

Unlike other Vebraya, the Elders seemed to be anxious. Normally, the ceremony was purely symbolic. There were rites to be spoken and a sacred flame that burned as stones were added to the pyre. These stones were etched with the names of the local youths, and with piety the Elders cast them into the blaze as each name was called.

Only, the ritual had stopped. More and more of the onlookers were searching the dwindling remainder of the crowd until all eyes seemed to focus on a particular individual. Anyanka stared back at the dozens of eyes now focused on her. Yes, she had missed something extremely important.

"Anyanka Morozova, please grace us with your presence." The words rattled around in the young woman's head as she numbly took a step forward.

A touch on her elbow caught her attention and she looked down to meet the hazel eyes of her best friend. His lips parted as if to tell her something, but the words died in his throat and nothing but a desperate silence was sustained.

Giving her head a shake, Anya's wavy, golden hair fell into her face. She reveled in the tiny amount of privacy granted before walking out into full view of the waiting crowd. Whispering neighbors, merchants, and peers parted for her. It was as if she had an aura that buffered the space immediately surrounding her in all directions.

In the very center of the village, a smaller grouping of bodies rounded the bonfire to face her. Two of the Elders were of ages that were congruent with their titles while the other two were barely old enough to be her parents. Adorned in random shades of off-white robes, they somehow emanated a certain raw air about them. This was perpetuated by the tradition that they not cut or style their hair.

Four looming figures watched her approach, unblinking, and each one of them looked at her with loss.

The fire, still roaring in the background, broke the silence as one of the massive logs cracked and popped. Elder Nova cleared her throat. She, along with Elder Neustroev were the two senior representatives. "Raven's call," she said in greeting, "Miss Morozova, you must bear witness."

She turned and gestured for Elder Saravya to fetch something from their previous position beyond the pillar of orange and yellow flames. He moved purposefully as he retrieved the metal tongs that still held a single stone in their cupped jaws.

As he approached, Anya began to feel weak. There had to be some reason other than the obvious that they wanted to show her something. This couldn't be her stone.

And she was right. It wasn't her stone.

Steaming with residual heat, the smooth surface of the offered stone was marred by the same sort of etchings that they all had. It was hard to read the name now that the stone had split in two but Anya could decipher it nonetheless.

It read Nadja, her sister's name.

"Anyanka, your sister has been chosen."

Anya nodded in affirmation. She was unsure of who was speaking to her but decided it didn't really matter as the vignette of her vision closed in on her before going sideways.

Sea green eyes fluttered open with lethargy. Instantly recognizing her own room, dimly lit by the setting sun, Anya almost rolled over in bed to fall back asleep before realizing Kot was seated in the reading chair across the small space. He stared at her, wringing a handkerchief repeatedly.

Sitting up, Anya regarded him. "I was having a dream," she started, "and I could tell it was a dream. Do you know what I dreamt about?"

Kot shook his head, his hair bouncing with the motion. It made Anya's hands twitch. "I grabbed you and ran." He was silent so she continued. "We could run."

Jumping up, Kot began pacing the room. Anya slowly scooted off her bed. She was still dressed in her day clothes, not that she was concerned with modesty when it came to Kot. There was no one she was more comfortable with.

"We could-"

"You could what?" A voice boomed as her door burst open.

Kot backed further into the room as a woman with silver hair, affixed back into a bun so tight it pulled at her eyes, pushed her way into the increasingly cramped space. "I'm waiting, girl," she said. Her painted lips smashed together in a line as sharp as her tongue.

Anya stood tall as she answered. "It should be her fate, not mine." Though her posture was straighter than ever, her voice remained small.

Her mother's harsh gaze narrowed further. "You should've thought of that before you went and ruined Nadja's life. It's about time you paid for your insolence." She sniffed, her nose rising with the motion. As she turned to leave, she seemed to finally notice Kot standing in the corner and giving a deep sigh, eyed him. "And you. You're just the final nail in the coffin, aren't you?" Anya's mother waited a beat before striding out, a bitter smirk forming as she noted the silence.

Years of jibes at Kot's expense didn't amount to some long-built explosion of emotion. He would have to care about her opinion of him for that to happen. Instead, he walked up to Anya, her eyes all the more green when rimmed red, and took her hand. "I will follow you," he said.

Choking down a sob, she gripped his hand tighter. "I know." Her words stopped short and she seemed to swallow down whatever was attempting to follow. Then, very deliberately, she separated his hand from hers before continuing, "But I need to go see my sister now. Please, Kot. Please go home."

Anya leaned forward towards Kot and he instinctively dropped his gaze until a gentle nudge urged his chin up. With a light touch, their lips married for a moment that was long overdue. They sighed into each other before Anya pulled back, her loose hair shielding her red cheeks and wet eyes before she dashed from the room without another word.

Gliding into her sister's room, the young girl immediately dropped to her knees and lowered her head until it almost touched the floor. "Raven's call, sister," she said. She didn't stand back up or even lift her head. Instead she held her posture, waiting for a reply that she knew would never come.

Anya held her position until the protest from her aching knees and lower back were too loud for her to continue. She deserved this. She deserved to serve in place of her sister who could not. It was her fault, after all, that Nadja was incapable of fulfilling the task bestowed upon her.

Slowly, Anya stood and approached the bed where her sister lay. It had been almost four years since the event that left Nadja in her current state. Four years of watching her sister lay frozen in some sort of stasis, never aging but never decaying. She was a living statue and a constant reminder of a young girl's mistake.

"Sestria," Anya said, stroking back Nadja's white-blonde hair with a reverent touch. "I must confess to you ill thoughts that plague me. I- I cannot ask for you to forgive my selfishness, for I have tried to escape the punishment I've finally been dealt." A small chuckle escaped her in the same moment as a single tear. "Did you know it's only two and a half months until my birthday?" And then she let herself cry for a moment. She had learned to do so quietly as she made sure to keep her breakdown from sullying her sister. If their mother found out... Well, there wasn't really anything she could do. At least, nothing that mattered. Not anymore.

With that sobering thought, Anyanka pulled herself together and gave her attention back to her sister. "Your namestone broke today. You were chosen," Anya said matter-of-factly. "I will be taking your place of course, though I'm ashamed to admit I thought of fleeing."

A dreamy look softened her eyes as she continued filling her sister in on the upheaval of her life. "I kissed Kot." She beamed as she recalled the softness of his lips but her smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. "Was that selfish of me? To do that before saying 'goodbye?' I think it might be."

Anya continued on about the things she would miss and how that didn't include their mother. She apologized for many things, including leaving Nadja alone with the woman. In a bittersweet way, Anya was thankful for the fact that the hate their mother harbored was directed solely at herself. Maybe, when she was gone, Nadja and their mother could continue on peacefully, knowing the troublesome child had gotten what was coming to her.

Rotten children will be fed to the witch. And she was rotten. A curse, bad luck, a jinx. It turned out the tales were true. She had just never seen them fulfilled in her short lifetime.

Maybe there had been no one as deserving as her in that time? But then why now; why four years later? Maybe she had let herself forget. She wasn't suffering as she should on her own so she would be given a way to pay for her misdeeds in full.

"I love you, Sestria. I really hope you know that." Anya took a deep breath. "But I will do this for you. I will do what my big sister requires of me..." She finished her thought under her breath. "Whether she would ask it of me or not." With the lightest of kisses to her forehead, Anya left Nadja's room and it was as if she had never been there.

Skillfully avoiding the woman who she called 'mother' for her first seventeen years, Anya collected her belongings and slipped out of her family home. She dressed smart, in layers that would shield her skin from the wild and unkempt forest as well as the elements. Her pack held a smattering of simple provisions and a waterskin was slung across her body. Her ensemble was completed by a necklace with an unusual charm. A tiny stone with a natural hole, dangled from a tightly braided strand. The necklace was long enough to easily drape over her head, with the exception of having to pull the bulk of her hair through. Tucking the ornament under her shawl, she stepped out into the light of the breaking dawn.

She looked east towards the sun as it peeked over the horizon, full of promise and life. To the west she would find the Witch's Wood. In a state of perpetual shadow, the dense forest was rarely traveled, most considering it cursed.

Maybe that was why, as she took her first steps towards certain death, something felt oddly right.

WC 2195