A/N: As I said last chapter, there will be a short preview of my original work at the end of this! Please consider giving it a read.
Also sorry about the delay..
BRISINGR.
Eragon's eyes followed Arya, long black hair trailing behind glimmering white armor.
Arya.. what did you see!
Eragon's gaze hardened, senses unable to ignore cataclysmic surroundings. The sky was dark, Gillendel's dying flames offered the only light. Below jagged road upturned by spellwork greedily speared for the Elven Queen.
Eragon! Saphira's voice bubbled into Eragon's thoughts just as he threw himself after Arya.
Saphira's shadow quickly overtook Eragon, he in turn catching onto a passing horn. Gillendel swirled underneath him, songs of the sealed closer and more horrid. Saphira turned in the air, allowing Eragon to catch Arya-
seconds before her impalement.
Saphira slowly turned upside. Eragon cradled Arya, holding her close to his body. Arya still wept- The Queen's eyes were open, but it was almost as if black pupils were blind.
Saphira ducked sharply in the air, diving for a nearby narrow street that hid between two columns of shattered structures, skeletal remains still offering some covering. The sound of fire murmured alongside them, accompanying the Sealed's susurrating hymn.
Is she..? Saphira asked within Eragon, before turning thoughts to the Queen directly.
Arya.!.what happened? What did you see? We can help you. Don't give in to whatever your sister has become.
Arya was unresponsive. The tears had stopped- but now her face was stoic, unmoving and stone-like.
"Eragon?" The Rider's ears twitched.
Roran?
Brown eyes dragged themselves from Arya.. they scanned the dark alley, falling upon nothing but corpses and stone until finally-
Roran limped from the shadows. Behind him, Cambion lurked, blue hair nearly black from soot and grime. Elonobum was in their wake. She dragged a greatsword across stone, oblivious to the screech it created. All of them were wounded- injuries crawled across bodies that wore clothing splotched with dirt and blood.
"I was beginning to think I'd never see you again." Eragon smiled, true happiness cutting through the miasma of horror settling upon Gillendel.
Above everything... Roran was the one person who reminded Eragon who he truly was. Not a warrior, not a shade possessed, but a simple boy from a small village nestled in the mountains.. A group of people in some way or another, cursed by fate that followed both brothers to the very city they stood within. Roran is also the only other person who would truly remember Garrow. The kind of man he was.
Eragon could feel emotions rolling from Roran. Saphira lowered to the ground, allowing Eragon to carry Arya closer to the others.
Roran seemed to smile.
"See me again? Don't sound so dramatic. We just saw each other." Roran said gruffly.
"We're all still alive. That's what matters." He finished. His eyes were strong. Eragon nodded, inspired by Roran's presence.
He's more of a warrior than I'll ever be.
It was then Durza's parting words surfaced within Eragon's thoughts.
Roran's look fell upon Arya.
"What happened? I've never seen her like this." Tired concern wrote over Roran's face.
Weeping King..
The Dragonrider shook his head, brown hair shaking beside eyes that veiled fear, true fear, welling up within.
"Alauinel.. We saw her. We felt her. Somehow, she has Gholohbhor's..." Eragon couldn't finish. His mind conjured Alauinel's birth-
The way black flame rose about her body..
Eragon returned his gaze to his older brother.
"She showed Arya something. Something Saphira and I didn't see. Her power.. I can still feel it now, I think."
Eragon shivered, Cambion's voice disrupting vile visions that realization conjured.
"The God of death...The one True God. This became possible the moment Gholohbhor was sealed amongst elven tombs aeons ago. A force like that should have never been in the midst of such a haughty race." Cambion's voice seemed to have other voices trailing after it, distorted with varying pitches.
Is Alauinel's joining affecting him too?
Elonobum cried aloud in anguish.
"What can we do.. The Sealed are all around us. They're just waiting. And now.. Now this." The Xoshan Elf stepped away, tears painting brown cheeks.
"I should have died in Tronjheim." She said softly, mouth pursed into a bitter smile.
"To envy those whose last moments were in that screaming abyss.." Elonobum's eyes locked with Eragon's then, before settling onto Arya within his grasp.
"Even the Queen.." Elonobum laughed. It was a quiet, hollow sound, one that denoted despair, not mirth.
Almost as if beckoned, Arya's face contorted into vague awareness. Eragon felt Arya's muscles move against him- he gently allowed her to shaking feet.
Arya! Saphira spoke in echoing timbres across a shared link.
Eragon looked at Arya. Her dark hair, lined with blonde, fountained past a pointed jaw. Her crown shone resplendently, but even then, it was almost as if it was an empty light, baseless in its manufactured bravado.
For some time, no one spoke. Again, the only sound were the chants of the cultists that circled. Finally, Arya's attention climbed to Eragon's own.
The Queen looked from Eragon, and to the sky above. Black hair crawled across her scarred face, mouth closed into a taught grimace.
She inhaled, slowly and deeply, wiping at her eyes.
"I saw it. What Durza spoke of." Arya began.
"You die, Eragon." Arya said simply.
Eragon furrowed his brows- he smiled inadvertently.
"I-I die?" He replied. Saphira was within Eragon's thoughts instantly.
Perhaps Alauinel has poisoned her mind. She wasn't responsive, now she's claiming-
Eragon focused on Arya's face. She was serious to a fault, which made her almost unreadable. But as he looked at Arya, Eragon knew that at the very least, she believed fully the words she just uttered.
"It doesn't matter if I die or not." Eragon chuckled.
"We've all been.. fighting for so long. It's tiring, sometimes. I don't disagree with you, Elonobum. Perhaps it could even be said that we were doomed the day Saphira and I found each other." The Rider walked back to Saphira. He placed his hand on Saphira's snout, caressing it as he spoke.
"But it's because of her that we have hope. A chance. I know it is. Even if I die..." Eragon whispered softly.
"Even against a God?" Elonobum called over to him.
Eragon turned, giving Elonobum a slack grin.
"I suppose that leaves us with one outcome."
"Everlasting life?" Roran offered with a sardonic smile.
Cambion's eyes seemed to glow in sudden awareness.
"Prepare yourselves." Cambion said.
He lowered his head. Eragon felt the air tighten around them, reacting to Cambion's rousing mana.
"They're coming. The Sealed.. and her."
MORZAN ROLLED ACROSS STONE.
Blood dripped from a gash that crawled up his sword arm, cracking open black armor. Black hair fell over a young, pale face, while ageless green eyes glared ahead at a casually approaching specter.
"Ceryani.."
Morzan's enemy looked equal parts Islanzadi and Alauinel. But there was something else too.. he could detect spell work that hastily bound cells and skin together, an unnatural energy that grinned with goading strength.
It'll be interesting to see if even you are unable to best Vizcelia, Morzan.
Osorion's parting words to Morzan rang within his mind with the steps of Vizcelia's advancing charge.
Morzan rose, turning his head-
Whatever is within that tree.. Is something Alauinel can't be allowed to reach!
Morzan turned his attention to the long stone bridge that stretched for miles beyond. It twisted and turned upwards into darkness, surrounded by a forest of laughing stalagmites covered in Laen runes. His eyes spied Osorion and Alauinel nearly at the cusp of the tree branches and leaves seemed to lower themselves to them, inviting a mother's embrace.
Morzan curled sharp brows into a frown. He pressed his body into a spark of black lightning-
Exploding inches away from Osorion's bewildered gaze.
He didn't expect the fact I'd invite a battle with all three of them!
Morzan clung to the dark recesses of his power. The very being of his existence- the reason as to
Why Galbatorix and Caomhim recruited him for their dark designs.
I miss them.
Morzan exploded in a swirling cloak of black water. Fire, unabated by the liquid, curled inches above, causing smoke to billow from the ancient mage.
"Y-You're truly of the old blood, Ceryani!" Alauinel's homunculus laughed.
"You saw it too, then!" Vizcelia's shrill speech filled the ocean of darkness around silent, watchful stone.
Vizcelia pounced behind Morzan-
Morzan closed his hands into fists, whipping tendrils of water around Vizcelia's body.
He threw her from the bridge, hardening the water into unbreakable ice as she fell.
Morzan formed his water forward once more, pursuing Osorion and Alauinel.
"You're too late, Morzan.. You're too late!" Osorion called as he spun around, unfazed as Morzan's water harmlessly splashed across Alauinel's shield of mana.
"The fact that we're all here.. The fact that we see these runes.. Everything has already been written!" Osorion hissed, but his voice was almost as if it was roaring.
Morzan smirked.
Drunk on borrowed power..!
Morzan pounced upon Alauinel-
The God's dark hair passed blank eyes, yet somehow it felt as if she bore into his very consciousness.
Morzan faltered-
Vizcelia's laugh rose from the catacombs below.
In seconds she was upon the bridge once more, rushing forth on all fours.
A white arm broke free of Vizcelia's back. It ended in a hand that seemed to grow a fleshly sack-
It morphed into the visage of an Elven man, grayed black hair matched with whitened blonde. The elf's eyes were dead, listless-
But they were eyes that Morzan would never forget.
Oromis?! Vizcelia leapt to a nearby stalagmite, twisting about it before launching directly for Morzan.
Morzan formed himself into a blackened and expanding pool, shooting tendrils for Osorion and Alauinel while fishing for Vizcelia as she contorted in the air.
They're getting away.. Alauinel's defensive skill is too much! If only Murtaghen-
Morzan shut his eyes.
No, he wouldn't fail- he wouldn't force failure on the one he had yet succeeded in saving.
Morzan was beyond a Dragon Rider. He had become power itself.
The wizard vortexed back into human form, sword dripping black water from a wicked edge.
Vizcelia's feet slapped against stone. She lifted Oromis' head.. In the very next second, Morzan felt wicked mana run itself through his body.
He smiled.
Is this what you prepared Alauinel? Is this what Osorion warned of?
Meagre spellwork attempted to turn Morzan's body against him- but he simply overwhelmed the attempt with the force of his strength. Vizcelia gasped in surprise, stepping backward while Oromis' head laughed in excitement and agony.
Morzan's blade cut through Vizcelia, splitting her stolen visage cleanly in two. A torrent of water followed behind Morzan's slash. It fell to stone before leaping back for Vizcelia's torn body. Morzan sheathed Zar'roc, turning his attentions now to-
Morzan didn't entertain the concept of another thought. Alauinel and Osorion were upon white oak. The tree's wood parted almost as if a mouth, dribbling blood as it devoured Osorion and Alauinel.
He pushed mana to its absolute limit, cracking the air itself as he moved.
But he was seconds late. The last thing Morzan saw was Osorion's turning smile as blood swallowed the Dragon.
It was quiet. Morzan summoned Zar'roc into a waiting palm. He then thrust the blade into the trunk of the tree. It cut through-
If I could read the spellwork that they used, perhaps I could follow them myself..!
Morzan closed his eyes-
"It's useless." A voice called. It was male, almost metallic, as if it carried its own echo separate from the crypt.
Morzan pulled his sword free-
Just as the tree instantly withered.
"Morzan Cirrician. You probably don't remember me."
The man wore an ornate mask inlaid with gold. It was fashioned into the
Face of a brave and handsome warrior with diamond eyes- though Morzan could see black and
Burned skin that curled inches away from pressed metals.
The man held the mana of a Rider- and a strong one at that.
"Killian Langfeld." Morzan said softly.
A laugh slowly crawled from metal lips.
"So you do remember. Interesting, Morzan. I hadn't imagined to find you here, even after coming across him." Killian paused, waiting for Morzan's response.
Morzan's first instinct was to leapt at the man-
But he stilled the chaos that stirred underneath a quiet countenance.
"Where is Murtaghen." Morzan said simply.
Killian laughed once more.
"He was nearly dead when we came across him. He may still die, though your presence may aid in the healing." Killian answered.
"We need to go after her." Morzan said.
"Did you know of this?" He turned dark green eyes to Killian's diamonds.
The warrior's smelted forehead dipped.
"We came here on the auspices of finding the Old World. We found much more. A part of Gholobhor. A living remnant. And with that, a key. There's no telling what happens now, but as long as we have-" Killian was interrupted by Morzan.
"What are you saying? A part of Gholobhor? Alauinel is trying to-"
"She separated the consciousness- The thinking being of Gholobhor from most of its power. It seems to inhabit a body calling itself Rem. It also controls the corpse of a dragon that rivals Shruikan in size." Killian answered before Morzan could finish.
Morzan lowered his eyes in thought.
"Osorion spoke of these events already being written. The Laen runes- I'm sure you've noticed them."
"Yes." Killian offered bluntly. He turned, cape flowing behind wide shoulders.
Morzan stood.
"Yes?" Morzan hissed.
"If you wish Murtaghen to live, you will follow me, Morzan Cirrician." The Rider's metal face turned halfway to stare at Morzan with jeweled eyes.
"There is much to discuss."
[Film cuts to black.]
[The sound of a reel being replaced is heard again.]
[more blackness]
"THE CHERNOBOG"
[The title flickers.]
[There is another cut. The audience now sees a long, gray table. Around it, the walls are black. To the left of the table, an empty chair waits. At the head, a woman with light brown skin is seated.]
[Her head is shaved. She has yellow eyes- bright and piercing. She's wearing a green sweater. Her hands clasp each other, resting on the table.]
{Interviewer, out of frame: How was your drive here?
[The woman smiles politely.]
{Woman: It was fine. Do you have anything to eat?
{Interviewer: Oh yeah, sure. I think they're making Aintopf soup in the record room. Uh-, You know, vegetables, meatballs. You want a bowl?
[The woman nods readily.]
[The sound of a door opening and closing ushers in a few moments of silence. The woman looks about the room. She is caught looking at the camera a few times, then averting her gaze.
The door is heard creasing open. The interviewer is seen now. His back is facing the camera. He places the bowl of soup before the woman, who thanks him. The man turns, nodding at the camera before again, escaping out of frame.]
[A finger is heard tapping a microphone.]
[The woman, who was about to eat, pauses.]
{Interviewer: It's fine- eat. This isn't going to be on the reels or anything.
[The woman begins to eat.]
[A Bell sounds in the background. The interviewer begins speaking into the microphone.]
{Interviewer: ßenschaal Court records A22-VN. Meskov War, Case 39088. Chernobog.
[The woman pauses her meal, looking up at the camera as the word "Chernobog" is heard. Otherwise, she displays no outward emotion.]
{Interviewer: Before we begin, I have been instructed to tell you that you will be pardoned of any war crimes or otherwise illegal actions admitted to during this recording-
in exchange for the right to use your information. Are these terms agreed upon?
{Woman: Of course.
[Her voice is soft. Unlike Ava, however, there is a darkness to her eyes. A cruelty. She seemed almost untrustworthy in the way she carried herself.]
{Interviewer: Let's start with your name.
{The woman answers immediately: Vuca.
{Interviewer: Last Name?
{Vuca: Riuenfe. Vuca Rieunfe.
{Interviewer: looking here I see you served with the 381st.. in the uh, Erstkontakt-
{Vuca nods, slowly and deliberately: Yes, I did.
{Interviewer: I can't even imagine what that was like.
{Vuca: I'm sure.
{Interviewer: When were you drafted?
[Vuca nods harshly.]
{Vuca: I was seventeen. Seventeen years old.
{Interviewer: And you were there for..
{Vuca: Four years, almost the entire war. I was supposed to be there for 13 months.
{Interviewer: What did you do?
{Vuca: What?
{Interviewer: Uh, sorry, during the War-
{Vuca: What did I do during the War?
[She scratches her jaw]
{Vuca: I did everything you'd expect. Everything you've read, I'm sure.
{The Interviewer pauses before answering: .. I suppose I should tell you that the courts have requested all stage four encounters be accompanied by an updated psyche profile. I hope you don't mind the extra questions.
{Vuca: You want to make sure I'm still sane.
[For a split second, Vuca's mouth curls into a smile]
{Interviewer: We want to make sure your mental faculties are still..uhm, reliable, to put it bluntly.
[Vuca is seen looking down into her bowl.]
{Interviewer: The emotional profiles of survivors are as important as information regarding the Chernobog itself. If anything, we want to find out why these survivors are-
{Vuca: Yes, The killings. The suicides.
{Interviewer: Let's..
[paper is heard being shuffled]
{Interviewer: You were stationed at Fonne Schteine for most of your deployment. Your patrols had amongst the highest contact percentages during the war. It also.. had amongst the highest reported civilian casualties.
[Vuca draws her breath in quickly. She taps her spoon against a now empty bowl.]
{Vuca: I believe.
{Interviewer pauses}
{Interviewer: This is.. a hard question to ask. I know- um, some of what happened during those patrols. Due to the nature of the case, the, um, Chernobog.. I am required to ask you this. Were you ever directly responsible for civilian casualties?
[Vuca's gaze snaps upwards and ahead. The film portrays her slowly nodding before answering.]
{Vuca: I was.
{Interviewer: Do-uh, would you remember how many? Or how often an incident would occur?
{Vuca:I would say I do.
[Vuca clears her throat, offering no other answer as she shifts in her seat]
{Interviewer: If this is too much-
{Vuca, smiling: if what is too much?
{Interviewer: We can do this another time, is all- all that I'm saying.
[Vuca is silent for a few seconds. She pushes the bowl away, guiding it to the middle of the table slowly, deliberately.]
{Interviewer: Do.. you know when it first began happening? Or rather-
{Vuca: I do. It's not something I think about. But I do remember, yes.
[Vuca's gaze seems to gloss over and she flattens her hands facedown on the table.]
{Vuca: I can control forces. Repulsive forces. it was obvious they would put me in a contact heavy squad. They wanted girls who could kill- kill efficiently, quickly.
{Interviewer: How did you feel about it?
{Vuca: Killing?
{Interviewer: Well- yes.
{Vuca:What I think about is why it seemed to be me. making the decision.
{Interviewer: To end a life?
[Vuca nods. Surprisingly, she seems to relax. Taking a deep breath, she crosses her arms as she leans forward.]
{Vuca, lowering her gaze: When I was four years old, my parents took me on a trip to a little town in the Suche Lowland. Enaisé. Right on the river between us and Forsica. My mother's father was a horse breeder. They owned a vast estate, a castle.
They were nobility. Some of them had close ties with numerous Kzarine over the ages. One day, my mother's older sister took us out, out of Enaisé and to Lersaie, in Forsica. She inherited the business.
{Vuca: My aunt happened to be showing a group of buyers the current stock that week. She typically used my grandfather's Forsican summer homestead.
It was a magnificent place. Bountifully hilly and green. There were almost no trees, and the ones that did stand were separated by dozens of kilometers. There was nothing- just wavering, vibrant grass. Cloudy mountains in the far distance. It was a very simple beauty.
I was only taken there once but I'll never forget how it looked.
[Vuca inhales sharply again. She sits up, uncrossing her arms.]
{Vuca: We were standing in a semi-line. My mother was right beside me, my father was talking with my aunt and the buyer's wife. The buyer himself was riding about on a horse. Giant, snorting thing.
It was a beast bred to be aggressive- the horses were used by the Hollene See centuries ago during the Pogom.
The man riding it was having trouble- it was kicking slightly, attempting to throw him off. As the man rode around the bend of my Aunt's track, the horse kicked its front hooves, jolting for me and my mother.
It sounded like someone had ripped a sheet of thick carpet. It was this sharp, zipping sound. A static in the air.
{Vuca looks at the interviewer, then past him: Using the force from his movement, I had torn the man's head in two. From the bridge of his nose to the crown of his hair. The horse's throat was cut open vertically. Bones broke free from skin. This happened on the man's arms, and the horse's legs.
both bodies moved into a kind of crumpled-slumped position as they slid away from Mother and I. There was blood everywhere.
My parents were elated. At four years old, I distinctly remember how they praised me. The man's wife, she was shrieking, screaming at my aunt and my Father. My Mother simply held me and told me how proud she was.
{Interviewer: Do you think-
{Vuca, interrupting: I knew I had done something wrong. But my parents- the only ones of whom I could base morality on at that age, seemed to be happy. At that age you're learning and absorbing everything. It wasn't that killing was "good" but rather it was something I knew I could do.
{The Interviewer is silent for a few moments before speaking:
... Did any other events occur? What happened to you after this?
{Vuca: No, nothing else happened. Up until the war I had a normal, happy childhood. After my parents discovered my abilities, my grandfather used his connections to keep the death off of any sort of record. It was deemed as an accident. They sent me to a Ûdschulen, where I excelled.
{Interviewer: So you think this is what lead you to-
{Vuca: It's something I wonder. If that psychologically made it easier for me. Of course, it gets more complicated at that point.
{Interviewer: In what sense?
{Vuca: I've had arguments.
{Vuca: But you understand very quickly it's you or them. Some hesitation. Neither party involved wants to be doing it. We didn't ask to be there, and they didn't want us to come. They didn't want to kill us.
[For the first time, Vuca pauses for longer than half a minute. The interviewer offers no response.]
{Vuca: It's beyond not wanting to die. It's not wanting to suffer whatever those that did.
[The Interviewer still remains silent.]
{Vuca purses her lips, then rolls her jaw as she flexes her fingers before closing them, tightly and slowly.]
{Vuca: The Callans used everything at their disposal. You couldn't tell between them and Meskovites. They're all tall and blonde. Pallid skin. Both speak the same language. They have the same religion, share some of the same V'demnov.
{Interviewer: You couldn't tell who the enemy was.
{Vuca: They pointed us in a direction, and we marched. That was it. I killed families, I burned down villages. I did those things. In the days after, I would see my friends impaled on trees. Their ribs torn from their stomach and splayed out like teeth.
{Vuca scratches her head:And it's something that just happens 're seventeen. Two weeks ago you were at home. In bed.
{Vuca: I remember lying in my bunk. We were under attack.
{Interviewer: Fonne Schteine?
{Vuca nods: I could hear them. The Callans. They curse the air. That alone could drive you mad. If you're not cognizant of what's happening, you'll start to see things.
{Vuca: People are screaming around me. I'm pulled out of bed. It's my lieutenant. She already has my rifle and my wand.
[Vuca smiles- erriely and distantly]
{Vuca: Behind her shoulders all I could focus on were the flashes at the bend of the trench, leading to the outside. I hear these awful chants. Ripping, gushing of blood. Screams. I hear girls begging, crying. And it was then I decided I didn't care what I had to do, but I absolutely knew I wasn't going to let myself endure that type of pain.
{Vuca sighing: That's where the arguments come from.
[Out of frame, the Interviewer can be heard coughing. The camera beeps as the film skips for a moment.]
[A subtitle reads "Day one, session two". A new bowl of soup is seen before Vuca. Next to it, a steaming cup of coffee waits.]
{Interviewer: A she?
{Vuca: It had a woman's face. Breasts.
[The Interviewer is heard writing for a moment.]
{Interviewer: Do you think you could describe her? The Chernobog?
{Vuca swallows deeply before answering: Yes.
[Vuca picks up the coffee with both hands. Closing her eyes, she takes a long drink of it- before placing it firmly back on the table.]
{Vuca: I remember seeing how branches brushed against her shoulders, breaking against them. A white face, bordered with black hair. Her hair- within it were..
[She trails off.]
{Interviewer: How large would you estim-
{Vuca, snapping back to attention: Easily four torso of a woman with something else. It had hooves. Four muscled legs. A insect-like tail that whipped and curled around tree trunks. The tail was.. long. I couldn't tell where it ended.
{Interviewer, softly: Where did you encounter it?
{Vuca: Far from Fonne Schteine. In Calla.
{Interviewer: The Vintzbetrenen.
{Vuca: Yes. We won at Belitovsk. Heike and the other Kurzlauchten wanted to push our offensive,catch Alauinel, her coven, off guard.
{Vuca: We punctured through Calla. It was the worst part of the war for me. Every day was- At a certain point I didn't think. You had to shut yourself out.
[Vuca flexes her hands]
{She continues: over the year long campaign I was breaking every bone in both index fingers and both thumbs, every night.
{Vuca: My magic was literally tearing apart my body from overuse. They'd strap me down. Have me healed. That process- it's excruciating. It feels as if your bones are melting from the inside, then hardening against the deepest, most sensitive part of your skin like a knife.
{Vuca nods, tapping her fingers on the table: Yes. That happened most nights. Almost immediately. It didn't matter how many guns we had. How many spells we used. How much we burned. And at a point, when we realized we were doomed unless we made a retreat, it was too late. Luck is the only reason why I'm here.
[She frowns]
{Vuca: the..Chernobog. I was on patrol with six others. The main bulk of our forces were camped on a frozen sea. The ice was black. Huge stretches of Calla were like that. Then a snowy beach, followed by trees.
The ice was thick. You could drive on it, move artillery on it. Callans, when they would attack, never broke the ice or seemed to try to. We assumed it was something not even they could affect. We ended up camping on frozen stretches of water when we could. It was safer than the forest.
{Interviewer: And it was here you saw the Chernobog? What was it doing?
{Vuca raises her eyes in thought, closing and opening them as she begins to speak: We were driving. Scanning the forest on the coast as best we could before morning. The good thing about Callan traps is that the rituals to create them were loud. They required a human sacrifice. If you knew where to look at night, you might stop one.
[Vuca shrugs, scratching her neck. She inhales deeply.]
{Vuca: As we rode over the ice, we heard something. At first we thought it was someone getting killed. You could feel it.
..As we got closer, we could tell it was something different. The sound was like a man mockingly crying mixed with a dog's bark. Multiple...loud and moaning susurrations.
It got so shrill we stopped.
That's when I saw it moving.
The voices came from faces embedded within the Chernobog's hair. In the moonlight, I saw writhing arms and hands gripping onto the hair as well.
She moved slowly and deliberately. I'll never forget that. You could hear the step of her. She was ahead of us, on the right, peeking from the woods. To the left is endless ice.
{Interviewer: Did you feel anything?
{Vuca: In terms of Ud, no. I felt cold. My fingers were numb. But I didn't feel compromised in terms of what I was seeing and what I felt when I saw her.
It was spectral and ominous, honestly. At that point I had already seen horrible things. But I had never seen anything like that. Heard anything like it.
For some time it simply stood there.
{Interviewer: Did it speak?
{Vuca: No. It was entirely silent aside from the faces barking. Not only the Chernobog, but the air itself. Then..
[Vuca closes her eyes. She crosses her arms, holding herself as she leans backwards in her chair]
{Vuca: I was in the back seat. Three in front, four in back. I was seated on the far left. In front of me, sat a girl.. her name was Füjori Hanf.
like I said, we had stopped. We didn't know what to do. If we should run. It was- it was simply staring at us with moonlike eyes. The faces and arms within the Chernobog's hair twisted amongst themselves. Then, it started moving.
[Vuca pauses.]
{Vuca: Füjori began screaming.
[Vuca opens her mouth, but closes it before speaking. She shuts her eyes.]
{Vuca, after gathering her composure: It sounds almost cruel to say it like this.
{Vuca: But I wish it was a scream that meant she was scared. Or one that showed-
{Interviewer: What do you mean?
{Vuca: When she screamed it didn't sound like her. It wasn't the sound of someone in pain. It sounded like.. someone turning the knob up on a radio, curious to see how loud it could get.
{Interviewer: Do you think.. she was no longer there?
{Vuca ignores the question: one of the other girls was yelling for us to drive. Finally we did.
{Interviewer: Your platoon.. what was their reaction? What were they saying?
{Vuca, nodding: We were scared. There's no other way to put it. Füjori.. she started hurting herself.
[The interviewer is heard coughing, but says nothing.]
{Vuca: The windows in the truck.. they had these rectangular,
Metal handles that you could use to open the.. the window from inside.
Füjori was knifing her head directly onto the corner of that. Into her eyes. I saw the blood from the backseat. Me and another girl tried pulling her away-
{Vuca: But it was too late. She was stronger too. We struggled a bit. We stopped driving. It was a confusion of blood and screaming, some crying. I don't remember if it was me or someone else.
Eventually.. Füjori is able to wrestle herself out of the car. She's..
[Vuca shuts her eyes again, shaking her head.]
{Vuca: She's still doing that howl. She's waving her arms around like someone is controlling her.
In the woods.. across from her, across from us, we see the Chernobog. So we're panicking even more. We tried to get her again. But this time she shrieked at us. She slipped out of our grip. Her eyes were just.. two bloody holes. She begins shaking again. Then she starts taking off her uniform, her underclothes.
Below her, there's a growing puddle of blood on the ice. It almost shines amongst the black of it.
[Vuca falls silent for a moment.]
[Her face softens.]
{Vuca: We were going to kill her.
{Interviewer: What happened?
{Vuca: When we got our weapons ready, she slid backwards. Like a force pulled her back. She went straight to the Chernobog.
At that point, the forest erupted in screams. We saw Callans. Dozens of them standing around the Chernobog's legs. It seemed almost as if they were singing. It was a horrible sound. The Chernobog held out Füjori like she was some prize. Füjori was laughing maniacally. Laughing and sobbing.
[Vuca inhales sharply.]
{Vuca:Then it turned around. It went back to wherever place it stalked from. We didn't wait for it to fully vanish into the wood. We ran back to the truck the second its attention was no longer focused.
We said nothing the drive back to camp. We made our report. Then we were told not to speak of it. The offensive continued for me until the retreat almost a full year later.
{Interviewer: And you never saw it again, correct? The Chernobog?
{Vuca: I never saw it again. We did come across Füjori's body.
They quartered her. Her head, her legs. Her arms and hands. It was circled around a tree, each part on a slab of stone. Her scalp was missing, you could see the inside of her skull.
{Vuca: I'm sure you're aware of this process if you've studied the conflict. It's something the Callans do to get information. The Chernobog.. it seemed to know Füjori was special.
{Interviewer: Special?
{Vuca:She was a Schkaldwoffe. The ones responsible for warding air, protecting us from spells that affected our minds. During the offensive.. several hundred Schkaldwoffe spent nights coming up with new formulas to shield us.
Callan magic.. it changed all the time. If we didn't chase it and adapt our wards, we would get torn apart from the inside out. I'm guessing it wanted her so they could figure out how to stop us in that effort.
[Vuca nods, clicking her tongue.]
{Vuca: I remembered being impressed by her when I met her. You had to be smart to become a Schkaldwoffe. You had to possess a brain that could see patterns and formulas created by another mind, then find a way around them. She was very confident. I didn't know her for long. But she was extremely, extremely confident. I was jealous of her..
[tape abruptly ends.]