The Winter of the Witch

There are no monsters in the world, and no saints. Only infinite shades woven into the same tapestry, light and dark. One man’s monster is another man’s beloved. The wise know that.

As I could, I loved you.

I have plucked snowdrops at Midwinter, died at my own choosing, and wept for a nightingale. Now I am beyond prophecy.

Love is for those who know the griefs of time, for it goes hand in hand with loss. An eternity, so burdened, would be a torment. And yet—” He broke off, drew breath. “Yet what else to call it, this terror and this joy?

She bent forward to breathe into his ear: "Never give me orders." "Command me, then," he whispered back. The words went through her like wine.

Magic is forgetting the world was ever other than as you willed it.

It is not for men and women to presume what the Lord wishes. That way lies evil, when men put themselves too high, saying, I know what God wants, for it is also what I want.

If you spend all your days bearing the burden of unforgotten wrongs you will only wound yourself.

If I wanted to imprison someone until the end of days, would it not be best to use a prison that he has no desire to escape?

Who is to say, in the end, that the three guardians of Russia are not a witch, a frost-demon, and a chaos-spirit? I find it fitting.

I have been running through the dark, trying to save all who have need of me. I have done good and I have done evil, but I am neither. I am only myself.

You were such a sweet child, when I first met you by this very tree,” remarked the Bear. “What happened?” His voice was mocking, but she could feel the tension in him when she began to undo the golden clasps. “What happened? Love, betrayal, and time,” said Vasya. “What happens to anyone who grows to understand you, Medved? Living happens.

He" —she stumbled, finished—"He has been a joy to me." And, drily, "Also a great source of frustration.

You shouldn’t have told them I was a girl. Then they might have believed that I was dangerous.

I am a witch,” said Vasya. Blood was running down her hand now, spoiling her grip. “I have plucked snowdrops at Midwinter, died at my own choosing, and wept for a nightingale. Now I am beyond prophecy.” She caught his knife on the crosspiece of hers, hilt to hilt. “I have crossed three times nine realms to find you, my lord. And I find you at play, forgetful.” She felt him hesitate. Something deeper than memory ran through his eyes. It might have been fear. “Remember me,” said Vasya. “Once you bid me remember you.

I loved her, and a curse made me forget. But she came for me and broke the curse and now I must go.

Men make themselves afraid," the Bear told her, smiling. "Imagining is worse than anything they actually see.

The more one knows, the sooner one grows old,” snapped the domovaya

Would you like to meet him?” Vasya asked suddenly. “I?” Olga asked, sounding shocked. Then her lips firmed. “Yes. Even a girl in love with a devil needs someone to negotiate for her.

I want Dmitrii's admiration. I want a victory. I even want power, over princes and chyerti. I am allowed to want things, winter-king.

God be with you,' Sasha said, cautiously. 'I certainly hope not," returned Polunochnitsa.

She did not want to see hope in his eyes. She wanted him to be a monster. But monsters were for children.

She had survived the frost and the flame, had found a harbor, however brief. Perhaps that was all anyone could ask, in the world’s savage turning.

You are not alone, he said, in a voice no one but she could hear. Remember.

Men are also wicked," Vasya returned passionately. "And good, and everything in between. Chyerti are, just as men are, just as the earth herself is. Chyerti are sometimes wise and sometimes foolish, sometimes good and sometimes cruel. God rules the next world, but what of this one? Men may seek salvation in heaven and also make offerings to their hearth-spirits, to keep their house safe from evil. Did not God make chyerti, as He made everything else in heaven and earth?

The mushroom-spirit was suddenly fierce. "He is not to kick over any of my mushrooms." "That depends," said the Bear pointedly. "If my brave mistress does not give me something better to do than run to and fro in the dark, I will happily kick over all your mushrooms.

What name would encompass a creature like her?

But he shook her, lifted her chin so that she had to meet his eyes again, spoke into her ear, the voice of winter in this airless cellar, reminding her of her joys and her mistakes, her loves and her flaws, until she found herself back in her own skin, shaken but able to think. She realized how close she had come, in that dark treasure-room, with reality collapsing like a rotten tree, to going mad.

And yet, I will think of the future,” Vasya retorted. “To remind me that the present is not forever. One day I may see my brother Alyosha again, and my sister Irina. I might have a home of my own, a place and a purpose, a victory. What is the present without the future?