LITMIR.BIZ

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her, so I move faster and I catch up with her in no time. I smile at her and take her mittened left hand in my bare right one.

      We know the land surrounding the temple pretty well because we are not allowed to venture much further yet, so we’ve spent our time exploring all the paths in the vicinity. Now, even with the earth blanketed in snow, it’s easy to find our way. We’ve been walking for no more than ten minutes but Anna is breathing heavily. She puffs and pants, doing her best to show how exhausted she is. I know what she’s after, so I let her climb on my back and carry her for a few minutes. It seems to cheer her up, she’s riding piggy-back, happily swinging her legs and clasping my neck so tightly my hood falls back revealing my mane of dark hair. The crisp air touches the scruff of my neck but my little sister is rubbing her cheek against mine, so I forgive her for that, as well as her whining.

      Now all I can hear is my own heavy breath and the crunching sound of the snow under my boots. There’s also an occasional hoot carrying from the thick of the woods, adding more magic to the night.

      When we reach the lake, I put Anna down and we both sigh in awe as we take in the view before us. We’ve seen the lake in daylight, but never at night. The frozen lake stretches out in front of us and the bright disc of the moon is reflected in it like in a mirror. The cracks in the ice look like white and blue veins.

      But with a happy cry of “Cranberries!” Anna breaks my reverie.

      I obediently follow her in the direction of the berries. The sooner we gather them and return to our warm beds, the better. The night is beautiful but freezing. My toes are already numb with cold.

      I spot the blood-red berries in the snow and can almost feel their taste on my tongue. If we gather enough, we can make not only juice but also sugared cranberries and maybe even a cranberry pie.

      “Agatha,” Anna says in a dreamy voice, “what’s a morok?”

      I wheel around and look at her in bewilderment. I’ve no idea where she has heard the name from. I was told about Moroks only in my second year as a Mara.

      “They are Shadow’s servants,” I answer cautiously.

      “And what’s a shadow?”

      “The Shadow is the place where the most rotten souls go, but it is also the darkness that rules that place.” I check if the berries are hard enough. But they are already frozen, so they shouldn’t mess the inside of our pockets. We have no baskets with us.

      “Where did the Shadow come from?”

      I pluck a handful of cranberries and toss them into the pockets of my cloak, taking my time to ponder the answer.

      “There are a few legends, and only those who have already moved on and met the Goddess know which one is true.” I finally say, evasively.

      “Come on, Agatha, tell me at least one!”

      “And then you’ll be too frightened to sleep and will recoil from every shadow on the wall,” I snort, watching her shaking the snow off a fir branch to shower herself in snowflakes.

      Anna keeps pestering me for a few more minutes and I cave in.

      “Okay, there are various legends out there. But most of them are incomplete. One says that Morana’s own shadow rose after it was stepped on by the dead. The most popular legend though is the one where Morana grabbed her own shadow and cut it off to help her deal with rotten souls: those of the greedy and selfish and other evil. And the Shadow has been following our Goddess ever since, separate but forever connected to Morana.”

      Somewhere in the middle of the story, my sister stops fooling around and starts listening closely.

      “So, Moroks are evil?”

      “As far as I know, they aren’t. But even Kira doesn’t know what they are hiding beneath their masks. And she’s the eldest.” I almost whisper.

      “Sister Yana says everyone is afraid of Moroks and if you look one in the face, you’ll die.” Anna whispers back.

      Of course. Yana loves telling scary stories. Although, what stories can you tell that are scary enough to frighten a Mara, who kills evil spirits herself? But Yana managed to do just that. She told Anna about Moroks.

      “I don’t know if that’s true. Irina has warned me that if you meet a Morok, you should hide. And whatever happens, don’t try to look under the mask. So, you should do the same. If you see a Morok, do as you’re told and hide.”

      I keep cramming berries into my pockets, when I suddenly hear her laughing. I turn to her but Anna’s not there. It takes a while to find her in the dark but I finally spot her on the frozen surface of the lake. I freeze with horror and the berries spill out of numb fingers.

      “Look, Agatha! I saw some boys doing it a winter ago, before you came. They taught me a little.”

      Anna is standing thirty feet away from the lakeshore. She starts running, picks up speed and pushes herself forward to slide on the ice… but tumbles over, laughing like crazy. I notice that I’m shivering, not with cold but tension.

      “Anna, come back! Come back here!” My voice is squeaky and unfamiliar. I tell her to come back but I can’t move a muscle, as if it is me on that ice.

      I was still in my third year as a sister when I was told never to set foot on the ice of that lake because it’s never thick enough to take the weight of a person. But Anna hasn’t been told that yet or she has but the warning has fallen on deaf ears. I’m standing as close to the lake as I dare, praying for the ice to be thick enough to take the weight of a slim girl.

      I shudder when she stands up and falls down again, landing on her backside and sliding even further away from me. Her laughter carries all the way across the lake.

      “Anna, come back here, please!” I cry again, trying not to sound too scared. If I step on the ice myself, I’m sure it will crack.

      “It’s not so slippery here,” she yells back with disappointment and takes a few steps back towards me. We can both hear the sound.

      Anna looks down. From her feet snake-like cracks start sprawling in all directions. She bows her head a bit and takes another step, slowly this time. The next cracking sound is almost deafening. I watch her with my heart in my mouth. She looks up at me and the fear in her eyes is unmistakable. Her lower lip starts to tremble. I throw back my cloak and stand there in my light caftan.

      “Anna! Run to me!” I try to yell but my voice cracks like ice and I hope I’ve managed to say it loud enough for her to hear.

      She does and she dashes to me. When she’s nervous, she becomes even more awkward. She manages three steps but the ice is really cracking now, big pieces come loose and the dark water splashes on the surface. Anna slips on the water. I don’t wait to see what happens next and bolt forward, carefully maneuvering between the cracks, leaping from one chunk of ice to another.

      Anna is first to go under. She squeals and falls into the water, her head disappearing beneath the black surface. I dive in right after. A rasping shriek escapes my lips as soon as the icy-cold water touches my skin. I spot my sister’s cloak billowing on the surface, find her and pull her up to the surface. Anna is sobbing uncontrollably. Her teeth are chattering and she’s beating against the water with one arm, the rest of her body must have gone numb from the cold.

      The water is freezing and it seems like I’m being stabbed

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