October 31, 1993

The hat made him look stupid.

It was much too large, created for a distant ancestor who had long passed on, so it sank down all the way to his eyebrows no matter what he did. The felt material was worn thin by the centuries of wear it had endured, and Viktor half-wondered how it had lasted so long, even with reinforcement spells and longevity charms cast on it.

Regardless of its make, and its historical importance to his family, Viktor hated the hat.

He did not, however, hate its insignificance.

"Are you ready?" Tseveta asked as she poked her head around the corner of the door. Her hair fell over her shoulders in long, thin braids capped with thin silver coins that had dark feathers dangling from them. Her eyes had been rimmed in black ink, and an iridescent mark flowed from both cheekbones down her neck and below the neckline of her dress. The marking, he knew, flowed down to the tips of her fingers, and when she held her mother's and aunt's hands the lines would connect seamlessly, a way to help connect the conduits of power.

He sighed and readjusted his hat, pushing it higher only for it to slip back down. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

Tseveta rolled her eyes. "Try to contain your excitement, bratovched."

Tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves, he joined her at the doorway and they began their journey to the evening room, the largest room of the house that could hold the entire Krum family and its cadet branches. "I am excited," he hedged, "I'm just…"

Nervous? Unsure? A bit resentful of the entire ordeal? He was seventeen, for Merlin's sake. He'd barely come of age a bare two months earlier and now he was expected to do this ritual where he would find his sŭdbonosna zvezda, his fated star so they would connect, at which point he'd be tied to her forever.

A fat lot of fun that would be. Why couldn't they just have regular Samhain rituals like all the other families? Why did he have to wear this stupid hat, and drink the stupid concotion, and have everyone do the stupid incantation while he walked the astral plane (which he had never been able to reach in his practices, but did anyone care? No.) to meet her wherever she was?

The echos of his complaints bounced around his head, and he winced at the discordant sounds, which really masked his true feelings. Truly, he was lucky this was happening to him.

He just wished he weren't so afraid.

The thought of the upcoming meeting, however it would take place - wherever it would take place - made his stomach churn. This was it. The first time he would get to meet his soul mate, the one destined for him. His perfect match. After tonight, no matter what happened, they would be connected ever more.

Even if she didn't like him, even if she didn't want anything to do with him, he would be tied to her. No second chances. No second thoughts.

He thought of his parents, who had been matched but who lived with cold silences and even larger distances between them, and hoped he didn't mess this up. Surely, surely he could make her like him. Surely she would be kind, and clever, and beautiful.

Surely he wouldn't be miserable.

"Vitya!" Hristofor, his uncle and head of the Savelev branch, called out to him as they entered the room, his booming voice jovial and his face slightly ruddy with drink. "Are you ready to meet your sŭdbonosna zvezda?"

If he wasn't ready to meet his fated star, the one the Seer foretold at his birth like she had foretold his father's, and his father's before him, did it really matter? The wheels were in motion and had been since his birth. He was bound so much by the ropes of tradition and ritual that it was a wonder he could move at all.

Dutifully, he replied, "Yes, uncle, I am."

Hristofor, who had had a happy marriage his whole life long and never known a day of shuttered eyes and cutting voices, beamed at him. "Your life is about to change, my boy. She will be your beacon."

Vitkor hoped his doubts didn't show on his face and instead inclined his head, which made the damn hat almost fall off again.

Behind him, the quiet voice of his mother murmured a sticking charm, and the hat secured itself to his head as if it hadn't been torturing him for the past half hour.

Turning, he looked down at his mother as she stepped up next to him, her countenance calm and serene. "Vitya," she said, her tone warm as she touched his hand briefly. "Do not look so worried. It will work out. You will see."

"Maika—" His voice caught in his throat as those very worries clawed to get out and spill over. What if he cocked it all up? What if they were fated, but they loathed each other? What if their souls called out to each other, but their minds were at a crossroads? What if her heart had already been spoken for? What if she dismissed it out of hand?

Her hand cupped his face. "It will be fine," she repeated. "I've read the winds and talked to the leaves. They all portend the same things. Happiness. Joy. Success. Love."

Something eased in his mind. The winds were sometimes a bit too optimistic, but the leaves were always honest if you could get them to speak to you. If they had said so, surely they could not be false.

"Am I not too young for this? Can I not wait a little longer?" he pled, knowing even as he did so that it was futile.

"You will do the ritual tonight just as every Krum has the Samhain they turned of age. It's fruitless to think you can avoid it. Be strong as you always are and face it head on. It is your fear that is speaking, not your brave heart."

Suddenly, the wind swept through the halls, the lights extinguishing all at once as the fire at the hearth roared, licks of flame snapping out and up. The hare, which had been strung up by its back legs and hung from the rafters, suddenly broke free and kicked through the air as it bounded out the window, though it had been dead since the early morning when his father brought it in. In its wake a path of golden dust twinkled in the light.

The family, which had fallen silent, burst into cheers at the auspicious sign.

"A clear, definite sign," Tseveta breathed next to him. "Last time it happened, the way was not nearly as clear."

"A very good omen," his mother agreed, gently pulling him forward by the arm until he started to move of his own accord toward the exit like the rest of his family.

It was time.

This is a gift for two of my readers, Mawkinberd, and Hufflepuffhugs, who won the fic giveaway I was doing with Hunting Shadows. While it is not yet finished, I thought we could all use a little bit of something nice given how tense things are in the States at the moment. I've got a lot planned for this and it is Fun (I laughed a lot when outlining). Here's to hoping this fic cheers you all up a little!