He laughed and picked her up as Amma hustled up behind her, red-faced and out of breath. “You will see what’s going on soon enough,” he told the little girl. He handed her over to her nurse. “King Elsleng sent me in to fetch you, as a matter of fact.”
Zaria’s petulant glare turned to one of wonder. “Really? Father sent for me?”
“Really. Follow me.” He led them outside to the courtyard. Several knights surrounded someone, but whoever they guarded couldn’t be seen through their solid wall of manflesh. Zaria’s mother and father stood to the side, talking to someone who appeared to be an old woman, but her back was turned to Zaria.
Amma set Zaria down. She raced over to her father’s side, grabbing his hand and turning to look at the strange old woman. Zaria recoiled at first, until she spotted the clandestine wink the old crone gave her.
There was something familiar about her. Whatever it was, Zaria instinctively knew that while every single adult here feared this woman, she would never hurt her.
“Ah, there she is,” the old woman said. She knelt down and stared into Zaria’s eyes. “Show them your left palm, little one.”
Confused but trusting, Zaria held up her palm. Every now and then she felt a funny tingle in the lines across her flesh, but they never hurt, and she never thought anything of it before.
Her mother, however, gasped with surprise.
“Bring him!” the crone ordered.
The guards led over a young boy about Zaria’s age, followed by a nervous couple that must be his parents. Zaria brightened as the boy smiled at her.
The crone laughed. “See? They know each other. Zachary, hold up your right hand.”
The little boy smiled and held up his hand. The crowd went silent at the sight of an identical sign on his palm.
In wonder, Zaria released her father’s hand and walked over to her new friend. They compared the marks on their hands, then linked fingers. It felt like a missing part of her was now returned.
Her father nodded, stunned. “What exactly is it that you need, Baba Yaga?” he softly asked. “It is yours if I can give it.”
“You have it wrong.” She nodded at Zaria and Zachary. “It is what these two will give your people when they are older. And then again later, eons from now. The prophecies cannot be denied.” From somewhere in the depths of her cape, Baba Yaga produced an ornately carved wooden tube and handed it to him. “I cannot influence the course of the prophecies. You know this. Only humans can do that. What the Seers scribe is not up to me. They are guided by the Universe, the Goddess of all, not by me.”
Stunned, the king stared at the wooden tube in his hands. “But…if this is true, and she is the Goddess, does that not make her more than human?”
“While she is a goddess, she is not the Goddess. The Goddess is eternal. Zaria is human born. Perhaps saying she is ‘human’ isn’t the correct word, then. Let us say she is ‘mortal.’” Baba Yaga sadly smiled down at the two children. “Teach them well. They will be the salvation of your kind several times over.”
Baba Yaga left the king and queen with clear instructions before her departure. Never forcibly separate the two children, even when they were older and others deemed their closeness improper. Train Zachary well, especially in arms and defense, but always return him to Zaria’s side every evening.
To never force Zaria to marry, because she must be free to follow her heart, no matter how improper it might appear to others at the time. Once she found her love, whatever form it took, she must be allowed to pursue it.
Their very survival rode upon their adherence to these things.
As the children grew, it wasn’t difficult to see their close bond. They could even finish each other’s sentences. Both children proved highly intelligent, and schooling them was a pure joy to their instructors. The children excelled in their scholarly studies, becoming voracious readers. Zaria accompanied Zachary to his lessons at the hands of the king’s most highly skilled knights, and she, too, learned how to shoot an arrow straight and true, how to wield a sword, and how to fight.
It was Zachary who comforted Zaria when her mother succumbed to a fever when she was ten. No adult could console her, but she would sit for hours with her head in Zachary’s lap while he softly sang to her. Anyone could see the children were perfect for each other. Some even suspected they might eventually wed each other.
For the most part, peace ruled her father’s land. As the children grew into young adults, rumors of violent attacks began filtering in from the outmost boundaries of the kingdom.
Their eighteenth birthdays, only weeks apart, were celebrated together by the king and his people with a great festival. Both Zaria and Zachary refused gifts, instead asking their people to share with less fortunate citizens in the land. Their generosity of spirit was yet another reason the people loved them.
One afternoon while Zaria napped, Zachary took a walk through the king’s apple orchards. He loved to explore the grounds and took simple pleasure in the peaceful feelings it brought him.
He’d stopped to eat an apple in the shade of a tree when he knew he wasn’t alone.
Turning, he spotted the crone. While she’d never come to him in the flesh before, she frequented his dreams over the years.
“Hello, Zachary.”
He nodded. “Baba Yaga.”
Before him, she transformed into her matronly form and sat on the grass in front of him. “Do you know why I’m here?”
He suspected. He’d seen and read all of the prophecies she’d left with the king, although no one knew he had. He’s snuck into the king’s drawing room late at night when everyone slept and spent hours poring over them. He knew them by heart. “Is it time?”
“You are very perceptive. Time draws quite short. Do you understand your purpose in this life?”
“I am the Watcher of the Goddess.”
“Yes. I know you love her, but she is to be no more than your Goddess in this life. Believe me when I say you will find the sacrifice painful, but worth it.”
He studied the grass in front of him, finding the strength of the woman’s stare overwhelming. “I love her. She loves me, too. I do not understand why I cannot have her.”
Baba Yaga reached over and grasped his hand. “Because for her powers to develop, she must mate with the dragons.”
He looked up sharply. “Dragons? As in more than one? What do you have planned for her?”
Baba Yaga shook her head. “It is not my plan. It is what the prophecy decrees. If it is not fulfilled, the cockatrice will win. That cannot be allowed to happen. It is for a greater good that you must put aside your personal feelings, in this life.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Saying what?”
“‘In this life.’”
“She will be yours for too many lives to count until the next prophecy. Even then, when that eventually happens, you will still find love and happiness. So please take comfort in that. Great pain precedes childbirth. Consider this a birth, of sorts. You will always remember her and how much you love her. I want you to know that the pain you will feel will soon be overshadowed by all the joy you will reap.”
She released his hand and stood. “Keep her safe and loved, Zachary. She is the key.”
With that, she disappeared.
He leaned back against the trunk of the apple tree. He didn’t want this responsibility. He didn’t want to hurt. He only wanted to love his sweet Zaria.
King Elsleng and his knights gathered in the large drawing room, the blazing fire doing little to take the chill from his heart. Five more villages destroyed in the last fortnight, all of the residents brutally slaughtered.