❝ DEATH IS COMING.
BUT SHE DOESN'T FEAR HIM. ❞
For the people of Khaya's little village living amidst the woods is quiet, and even more, so it became since the creatures lurking in its shadows turned into mere fairytales. Little does Khaya know that...
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WHAT DEATH CANNOT TOUCH xi. the last dawn
❆ ❆ ❆
Khaya was still awake when dawn had broken for the sylvan village as was the entirety of the Raskin household. Even Ulya and Ilya, whom they spared any further explanation for the grave atmosphere, their half-frozen mother, and the fire that lit the sky that night, could not sleep for long again.
All of them were tired, deep plume shadows underneath their eyes the only color in their worn-out faces but the horrors of the night clung to them like the embers darkening the snow and the whiff of death and robbed them of sleep.
"No, you will get cold, mamma," Majda said softly, drawing the furs back where they had been before Dorka had freed herself of them. To her solicitude, her mother did not seem to hear, eyes wandering aimlessly through the room, while she nodded.
"Cold... cold... Yes, Vanya must feel cold... Bring her to the oven, will you?" Dorka murmured.
"She will not freeze, I promise." Majda forced a smile on her lips and fondled Dorka's hand. "She rests peacefully now."
Beheaded and burned.
Only the priest's voice and blessing touches truly got through the haze of Dorka's state of trance, granting her some clarity of Svet's light. The god, who has once again betrayed his children. His stone-hard heart could not be softened by their pain.
"In Svet's realm your daughter will never feel cold," the priest said.
"Has she found it now, master?" Dorka looked at him fearfully. "What if she is still lost in the dark?"
"Do not fear. I guided her soul. Rest now, child." His sprig-thin fingers closed her eyes as he did with Vanya's dead ones in the evening to shroud their view of the sky. As if that gesture indeed freed Dorka from the weight of being awake, her lined face relaxed and she sunk into a slumber.
Davor, who was busy all night with the priest's commands, paused sharpening his sword. Out of all of them, the sleepless night did not show on him at all. His eyes shone clear and vigilant, and in all of his moves lay the preciseness of a man who hadn't abstained from rest.
"Times has come."
"Let us go, then." Khaya rose to her feet that at this point did not feel weak anymore but numb. Apart from the bandaged forearm, she could barely feel her body anymore.
"Khaya...," Majda muttered surprised.
"Us?" Davor blinked at her with confusion.
"You need an innocent child, don't you? I'm not letting Ilyusha go with you. You'll have to make do with me. I'm young and innocent enough." Ilya and Ulyasha had already been distressed enough by recent events. Nothing could convince Khaya to let Davor Kazminov take the little boy with him to dig up graves and behead corpses.
