in a red velvet cloak and black rags of a dress. They were flying as fast as an eagle over the Caucasus Mountains, sending their flocks of crows a

the heavens and spread sterile, cold perfection with the infection of his cursed deathless lands upon Buyan. Nature abhors a vac

r like a worm in her brain. Watching her bare milky-breasted, nipples like pink daggers as she beat at her chest with venik branches to guide th

ext seal the coffin in his box? The Zorya’s whispered in their prophetic trills that Morena would birth Bilobog, the r

ion followed. It drove Morena deeper into her madness and desperation, and it drove Jarilo farther from Morena. They failed again and again, Chernobog’s blackness s

and ice and tear the oak tree of his heart from its roots. Each egregore and familiar that died at Chernobog’s hands infuriated him more, and drew him further into no man’s land, where they might strike him in earnest with spells and curses, but C

hat she should seek a mortal’s bed. There were rats on Morena’s shoulders and crows in

romets to Dobryna Nikitich, were partially human after all. They were the ones to slay dragons, not insipid Jarilo or my stubborn father Perun.” Morena looked out the window of Baba Yaga’s chicken

r is tiring for us both, and you have

child, one witch-babe to suckle at my breasts and coddle

p a half-mortal child in a house of immortals at war would be a d