A small flame flickered on the end of the match. Kiryl smiled, his face filled with the glow provided by the match's flame. He moved the match towards the first candle in front of him. Placing it near the wick, the heat transferred quickly and soon sent the wick aflame. Then he moved the match to the next candle and did the same. Then again with the third candle. Then at last with the fourth and final candle. Three purple candles and one pink candle stood in front of him, each at opposite corners of the beautiful green wreath. The man proceeded to produce a gust of air from his mouth to extinguish the match's persisting flame. Smoke drifted up. The scent tickled the inside of his nose, but made him feel warm all the same.
A holy choir began to chant, their voices angelic. One by one, people began to file out of the church. The priest disposed of the match and tidied up the altar, his movements slow and steady, without any worry or rush. And he couldn't seem to get that lovely smile off his face. Only five days until Christmas.
The priest was on his way out the doors of the church when the subtle jingle of a bell slipped into his ear. He turned his head toward the source, the right end of the church. There was the alcove leading to the confession room. Someone seeks to be absolved.
Heeding the beckoning bell, Kiryl stepped into the chamber. A dark screen stood between him and the person on the other side of the room, who had entered from another passageway. The priest sat down in his chair and announced, "Welcome to Church of Zalenagrad, beloved child of Goddess. How are you, today?"
Silence followed. The priest waited with unfaltering patience, knowing how difficult it is to confess sins, or even just to remember exactly how to present them. After a few moments, a mumble of childlike sobs became audible from beyond the screen. "M-Mister… I mean, uhm, F-f-f…"
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," the priest recited in reminder.
"N-no, I don't wanna confess, I…" the child's voice trailed off into more intense wails of despair. "I don't know where my mama and papa are, and, and nobody wanted to help me, and I didn't know what to do, and then I saw the church… you'll help, won't you?"
The smile that had coated the priest's face sunk out of his visage in a flash. Without a word, he rushed out the room, heading further down the side of the church's inner wall before coming to the other entrance to the confession room. He slowed down to carefully step inside, being met with a small figure curled up on the chair.
Kiryl's nose tickled once again, but instead of with joy and warmth, it was with the allusion of tears. His eyes watered at the sight before him. One lone child, a boy, in clothes meant for weather no colder than a light autumn breeze. But it was not autumn outdoors. The chilling winds had attacked his skin, frostbite pinching his ears and nose. His cheeks were rosy red, eyes a sad brown. Snowflakes and clumps of snow covered his body, and even the snow on exposed skin was not yet ready to melt. The kid looked up at the man when he entered the room, shivering uncontrollably, hands shoved in the opposite armpit.
"You were wise to seek church," the priest noted. "I am glad you came here. I will take care of you."
He removed the Kalimavkion on his head, and without any delay, removed his orange scarf as well. Knowing the kid was too busy shivering to accept the gift with his own hands, the priest instead carefully wrapped the warm scarf around the boy's head and face—his most injured area. The heat soaked into the boy, prompting him to pull his hands out from his armpits and nestle them into the scarf as well. He pushed the scarf further up into his face, his soft copper locks of hair fluttering overtop.
A smile returned to Kiryl's face, seeing the child playing with the scarf, excitedly. After a belt was taken off and a few buttons undone, the priest's large and thick green coat came off as well. He was left with nothing but his white undergarments and shoes. In several delicate movements, he was able to cocoon the child entirely in the green coat, the little boy and his orange scarf inside. The kid didn't smile or show much expression at all, his pale face likely still being numb, but the way he hugged the fabric of Kiryl's clothing closer to him showed the priest he had done well.
"My name is Kiryl," he informed, voice calm and reassuring. "This church is no place for residence. I shall to take you to my home. You will be safe."
The priest left behind his discarded hat and belt, planning to retrieve them later. At the present moment, he needed his two hands available to carry the child and to occasionally open doors. He cradled the kid as if he were a baby, keeping the coat tightly wrapped around him as the two braved the cold outside once more. As soon as the church's doors opened, a flurry of air flew inside the building, whipping past the man, taking all his heat from his unprotected body and leaving him utterly freezing. But he gulped and moved on.
It had been a strong winter, with at least a foot of snow covering the ground, and ever more snow continuing to fall with each passing second. The bitter wind struck them with no mercy. With each huff, the water vapour in Kiryl's breath condensed into visible gas in the air, vanishing not a moment later.
The resilient green coat kept the boy warm, though Kiryl himself was feeling as if he had just leapt into the icy cold ocean. But the man's fortitude overpowered his own instincts to flee for shelter. His body quaked, yet he trudged onward. He would not let this child's spared life go to waste.
At the entrance to Zamoksva, the heavily clothed soldiers standing at the front doors noticed his approach early and held the door open for him as he staggered inside with what remained of his diminishing energy, before promptly collapsing to his knees after the doors shut behind him. To be inside thick, insulated walls, to be in a room of warmth, full of candles, lanterns, torches, and even the occasional fireplace… this was home.
Kiryl's breathing slowly steadied, his comfort rising as he no longer breathed in frigid air that stung his very lungs. After a few minutes of thawing, the man finally set the boy down onto the floor, then made to slowly shake his muscles back into action. After unravelling the kid from the coat, and squeezing melted snow out of their clothes, Kiryl was able to stand up straight and hold the child's hand, leading him over to his chambers behind the chapel. The door quietly creaked open as it was pushed, the room dark, only a small blue glow peeking in from the window, the clouds still having their reign over the sky.
"Here we are," announced Kiryl. He gently released his grip on the boy's hand, glancing down at him with a grin. The kid brought his unoccupied hands back to the orange scarf that still remained wrapped around his neck. In the meantime, as the boy stood steady, the priest pulled out a box of matches from a drawer on his desk, then set about lighting every candle in the room. When his job was complete, a comforting orange illuminated the room, albeit dimly. With the light aiding him, the child noticed the bed in the room, and went waddling over toward it. Seeing this, Kiryl carefully swooped the kid off of the ground with both hands and set him down on the bed. As they faced each other, Kiryl kneeling down to meet the boy's gaze, he asked, "What is your name?"
"A-Alek," the child squeaked out, his eyes warily looking to Kiryl's.
"It is pleasure to meet you, Alek. Are you still cold?" the priest continued. "And are you hungry?"
While it seemed the kid's shivering had ceased at some point after they entered the castle, Alek replied, "Yes, yes…"
The man nodded. He headed over to his wardrobe, digging deep inside it to find a very old winter sweater he owned. One so old, it would fit the boy. He placed it onto the bed next to Alek and ordered, "Put this on. It shall to keep you warm and toasty. I will go get us food. Do you like borscht?"
The thought of warm stew lit his face up for a brief moment. "I do," responded Alek, as his eyes drifted to the thick wool turtleneck next to him.
"Premium. Stay right here, and I will return soon." A wide smile graced his face before he turned to depart, taking his green coat with him.
When at last Kiryl re-entered his chambers, he was glad to see Alek resting in the bed. The turtleneck sweater had been pulled overtop of his clothes, the orange scarf placed on top, and he wrapped himself in Kiryl's bedsheets. The priest walked in, his outfit having changed as well, now wearing a navy blue fur coat and a pair of cozy valenki on his feet. In each hand, he held a bowl of dark maroon soup. Bits of beets, pierogi, and sausage floated inside. Steam rose from the bowls, signifying their heat. One bowl he set down on his desk, the other he brought over to Alek where he rested in bed. The boy graciously accepted the gift as it was placed into his lap, immediately grabbing at the spoon, taking some of the broth and bringing it close to his mouth. The emanating heat pleased him, and Kiryl could see his lips softly curl up at each end.
The two enjoyed their stews, relishing in the warmth they provided. As an added measure, to ensure that Alek was cozy, Kiryl left and brought back hot chocolates for them as well. Kiryl finished his meal while Alek still slowly went on with his, so the priest decided to start a chat to fill the silence.
"You must have travelled long distance to arrive at this location. This place is known as Zamoksva. It is ruled by Tsar Stepan. While protested against at first, Tsar's daughter, Tsarevna Alena, has become this region's most celebrated warrior. She has fought for her home, for strangers, and for the world as a whole. And I have stood by her side through nearly all of it, as I am Tsarevna's personal retainer.
"Tsarevna Alena is… a wonderful and beautiful young lady. If you ever catch sight of her, I am certain you could recognize her instantly. Her ginger locks and ruby red eyes are unmistakable. She moves as fast as the wind, yet strikes as hard as a golem.
"And, as you know, I am Kiryl, priest and chancellor of church of Zalenagrad, and royal guard for Tsarevna, here in Castle Zamoksva. It is my duty to keep her safe, to deflect harm from her, to help heal her injuries, to offer her comfort, to heed her every command…
"Ah, but I digress. Alek, are you finished with your borscht?" Kiryl asked, seeing as the boy had disregarded what remained of his stew in favour of the mug of hot cocoa in his hands.
"Yes, Father," said the kid.
Father? Kiryl blinked. "We are not in the church. You may address me as Kiryl," he reminded, as he stood up to grab the bowl from the boy.
"Thank you, Father," Alek said while the bowl was taken away from him.
The priest set the bowl down on the desk, looking back at the child, quizzically. No one has called me 'Father' outside of the church before. I suppose it does no harm. But it certainly feels strange…
"Can you tell me a bedtime story, please?"
Glancing out the window, it was pitch black. Time for bed. "Of course I will." Kiryl shut the curtains and began to rummage through his bookcase. Once a suitable story was found, a childhood favourite of Kiryl's, he opened the book and sat back down on his chair in front of the desk. He snuffed out all but one candle, then flipped to the first page of the book and began to read. "This is story of Father Frost and the Snow Maiden…"
Alek yawned, and so too did Kiryl, in response. Within the next bundle of minutes, the child fell asleep, Kiryl staying up longer, continuing to read, the traditional story bringing back lovely memories to him. It was a Christmas story. Father Frost, and his granddaughter, the Snow Maiden, would travel on a vehicle led by three horses, to place gifts for the good children under the New Year Tree. It was only an old wives' tale, of course, but Kiryl loved to imagine if it was true.
In the holiday spirit, Kiryl silently dug through more of his bookshelf, searching for more stories he'd want to share with Alek. Lost memory after lost memory came back to him, tears making their presence known on his face. Roughly an hour passed before the man finally felt so fatigued that he just needed to get some rest. But with the bed occupied, he would have to make do with either the chair or the floor. He tried the chair first. But it was a rough, wooden chair, devoid of cushioning. After about half an hour of restlessness, he decided to try the floor. At least there was a thin carpet to lie on. Soon, he was able to pass out.
Unfortunately for the priest, his rest was broken at the sound of fearful screams in the middle of the night. Bolting upright, Kiryl immediately looked to the bed beside him. Alek was up, his empty mug astray, bedsheets rustled, and face scrunched in horror and sadness.
"Alek, are you alright?" Kiryl blurted out, stepping right up to his side, placing his arms around him for a soothing hug. The kid hugged one of Kiryl's arms in return, his breathing heavy and unsteady. "I am here. I will protect you." The priest gave a sweet smile that soon calmed the child down. Alek said nothing, only slumping back down under the bedsheets, relaxed. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kiryl returned to his position on the floor, aiming to catch a few more Z's before morning.
The princess awoke earlier than the sun in the morning, excited for a new day. She wrapped herself up in cozy yet stylish winter clothes. Enthusiastically, she pumped her legs on her way down the hall. Everywhere she went in the castle, she was greeted by multi-coloured festive lights and ornaments. The servants had placed them around the castle just the night before, in preparation for Christmas in the coming days. Alena skipped around the empty castle, happily, until she heard a sound coming from the kitchen. A low sizzle. Someone is cooking, this early in morning?
Curious, and drawn in by the pleasant smell, Alena slowly peeked her head around the corner, careful not to startle the cook. But she couldn't see who it was before hearing sharp footsteps approach. Hiding behind the corner again, she simply waited to see who would pass. And to her surprise, her very own retainer passed by, carrying a large tray of grilled potatoes and garlic toast. The tsarevna was about to speak up when she noticed the man's face. Under his eyes sagged dark purple bags. Goodness. Kiryl does not appear well-rested at all. And why does he carry such large meal with him? Hmm, I had not seen him at all last night. This is so very much unlike him. What is going on?
The priest hadn't noticed Alena's presence as she was hidden around the corner, and continued on. Alena, however, silently pursued, aching to have her questions answered one way or another without causing a disturbance if she could help it.
She followed Kiryl all the way back to his chambers behind the chapel, and after the door was closed behind him, she sidled up and pressed her ear to the door to eavesdrop for a while.
"Good morning, Alek. I have prepared our morning meal. I trust you like potatoes and toast?" said the deep, manly voice.
Who is this 'Alek'? wondered Alena.
"I do, thank you, Father," replied the young boy's voice.
Father?
"Then let us dig in," the priest said kindly.
It took a while before Alena could hear another word, but eventually, a conversation sparked up again. "Will you really take care of me? Forever?" came the child's voice.
"Now, now, there will not be such a need if we may locate your parents. When do you last recall being with them?"
"Uhh… we left Vrenor, we were all walking together, in snow, we wanted… we wanted to go to Zalenagrad to celebrate Christmas at the New Year Tree, b-but then, but then, a lot of snow came, and I couldn't see mama and papa anymore, and I was so cold, and I just kept walking forward until I found town."
Alena heard whimpers and sobs, and a lot of fabric-against-fabric. This child… orphaned? No, it cannot be.
"I don't know what to do," the child sobbed.
If I hurry, I may yet be able to rescue them. Alena removed herself from the door, turning on her heels to sprint right out of the castle, ready to trace the pathway from Zalenagrad back to Vrenor. But since the kid mentioned 'walking forward', it meant the parents must have gone missing somewhere just north of Zalenagrad. So the tsarevna headed there first, ignoring the cold weather as best she could, praying for the parents' safety.
"I will return you to loving family. I will not rest until you are happy, Alek. The Goddess graced you with life, and you will not be spending it in sadness. A life of joy awaits you. I am certain of it," Kiryl consoled, taking Alek up into his arms for a warm embrace.
"Do you really think we can find them?" the kid sniffled.
"The family for you is waiting for you."
"What does that mean?"
"You will see."
"Father… I'm scared."
A deep chuckle reverberated in the man's throat. "You survived through harsh snow. You are a tough nut, eh? A tough chestnut. Not even mightiest nutcracker can break you. Ahah, and I had trouble cracking nuts when I was your age as well. How can a living thing be so resilient? Because it spent time adapting to its environment. You are going to have to do some adapting, too. But trust me, the changes will be positive."
Alek took a few moments to absorb the priest's words before he spoke again. "Father… You are like my mama and papa so much. I miss them. But, but you are like them, and that makes me happy. The other grown-ups, they were so mean to me. They didn't listen. They just walked away. They weren't like my mama or papa at all."
"Do not waste your energy being upset with others. Be glad that you have found safety."
"Oh. Okay… I think I get it."
"I am glad. Say, do you wish to see lovely Christmas lights in castle?"
Alek's face brightened at the suggestion, and he nodded twice. Setting him back down on the floor, Kiryl opened his door up and led the way to the main courtyard. A plethora of colours flashed about—red, yellow, green, blue. The kid was mesmerised, breaking off from Kiryl's grip to explore the wide room.
As the priest stood with his hands in his pockets, a cold breeze blew at him from behind all of the sudden. Spinning around to see what had happened, the man noticed the front doors to the castle had been swung open, and a single figure limped inside. While she was covered in snow, Kiryl still recognized his friend instantly. The doors shut with a moderate slam, the snow she had brought in already beginning to melt.
Kiryl didn't spare any concern—he knew she was just fine. But he did ask, "Alena? What were you doing outside?"
The tsarevna looked up to her retainer, her face rosy red. Kiryl couldn't tell if it was just from the chilliness outside, or if she had been crying. "Alek… I overheard your conversation and how his parents had gone missing. I had to look for them. But this is all I could retrieve. The rest, you would not wish to see." Stretching out her arm and unclenching her fist, the girl revealed a small doll in her hand.
Struck with anguish, the priest cupped his own gloved hands around Alena's, taking a close and hard look at the toy. It was the innermost piece of a matryoshka. A roughly humanoid-shaped piece of solid wood, painted to look just like Alek. Kiryl gulped, finding his throat was dry and a lump of stress sat in his chest. "I was prepared to learn they had perished, but this makes it all the more tragic," he whispered. "We must inform Alek."
The taller of the two pocketed the doll to keep it safe, before the pair went looking for the kid. While he wasn't hard to find, the words to say to him definitely were. But for the priest and healer of Zamoksva, he recalled his past experiences, and knew what he needed to do. Kiryl guided the child back into the privacy of his own room, leaving Alena out in the chapel. He would speak to the kid alone.
"What now, Father?" the innocent boy asked when they got inside.
"Alek," he addressed, kneeling down to him, his face stern and serious. "Do you know what it means to love someone?"
"Yes, it's like, you… you want to hang out, and you want them to be happy and safe." The kid remained curious.
"And do you know how powerful the bonds of family love are?"
"They're the strongest."
"Exactly. Your mama and papa love you very much. They love you so much, in fact, that they did everything they could to ensure your safety. They were your soldiers; your protectors. Now, do you understand how not all soldiers return from battle?"
"Some of them… they…"
"Yes. Just as any mighty soldier would, your valiant mama and papa fought and died so that you may be alive today, Alek. Your parents are resting in heaven now."
Alek's face turned red and he quickly began to cry. "Wh-what happened to them?"
"When you could no longer see them in the snow storm, they had lost their way, and could not reach a town before succumbing to the cold temperatures."
"They're really gone?"
"Yes, Alek. You have my most heartfelt condolences." After this, he remained silent, waiting for any further inquiries.
"Can you be my papa?" the voice finally squeaked.
"Oh, Alek… think of me not as a father, but as an altruistic caretaker for lost children. As you can see, my living space is small, my time is occupied by my multiple jobs, and… there are others just as kind as me that the Goddess has chosen for you. And I will help you locate them."
The child's eyes sparkled in wonder, his whining ceasing. "What's 'all true is stick' mean?"
"When a person is altruistic, it means that everything they do is for the benefit of those around them. When people around them are happy, so are they."
"Is it like love?"
"Exactly. Being altruistic means you love everyone. Your family, your friends, your neighbours, and even any strangers you meet. You love them all. You want to see them smile."
"Isn't it Christmas soon? Everyone's happy on Christmas. Should I be happy too?"
"I am certain happiness is precisely what your mama and papa wish for you."
"Yeah… Wait… don't dead people usually have a funeral or something? What about mama and papa?"
The priest gingerly placed a hand on Alek's chest. "For your family, the funeral is in your heart. Remember your joys with them. Be grateful for everything they have done for you. And when you feel their gratitude in return, you will know you have finished." He took his hand away, and the kid slowly brought his own hand over his chest in curiosity.
"What do I say?" the child asked, nervously.
"Whatever you wish."
Alek looked down at his chest where his hand lay. He carefully brought his other hand on top of it and closed his eyes. Minutes later, his eyes opened again, looking up to Kiryl's calm pupils that aimed toward the open window. "Father… I feel better."
The tsarevna sat in one of the chapel's pews, anger contorting her face. "I could have saved them. If I had been there, if I had known, I could have rescued them. This is like repeat of Taborov." Alena clenched a fist, ready to slam it into the stone floor in anger. But, with a gasp, she stopped the motion inches before crushing Kiryl's toes as they appeared in her trajectory. Tilting her head back up, she saw the man standing over him, Alek beside him, holding his hand.
"Alek is feeling well, now," the priest explained. He gestured toward the grinning child. "I plan to continue looking after him until we can locate a new home for him."
Alena rose from her position, standing up to look at her friend with mixed feelings. "Alek, he is alright? I am so very glad to hear." She sighed. "But Kiryl, you must not overwork yourself. Have you seen your face in mirror? You look awful."
"I will be alright, do not worry for me."
"You require rest," said the girl, voice firm and unwavering.
"I like napping…" added Alek.
"There you go. You two nap, alright? I will arrange a meal for you both."
Kiryl saw no point in arguing with Alena's generosity. If she was going to put her power to use to support them, Kiryl would not deny. "My gratitude is yours."
The tallest two exchanged nods and turned their opposite ways.
"Was that Tsarevna Alena?" inquired the kid when he and the priest were isolated once again.
Kiryl chuckled, saying "Yes" in response.
This time, suggested by Alek, he and Kiryl slept in bed together, sharing the bed sheets and space proportionally.
In the middle of the day, the two were awoken by a small group of servants entering their room with a fresh lunch to serve. Graciously, they ate and drank, and soon after, the ginger-haired girl came trotting back in. "How are you feeling?" she asked both of them.
Kiryl stretched in bed and rubbed his eyes, thankfully having slightly less serious bags under them now. "Well, I am alright, now. How about you, Alek?"
"I, I don't know," the kid warbled.
"What is matter?"
"What if I don't find a new family by Christmas? Who am I going to spend Christmas with?"
Before Kiryl could say something wise, Alena opened her mouth. "With us, silly."
"But you guys have your own families."
"Actually, I only have my father, and Kiryl is entirely independent from his family. You could easily join us. We would not leave a soul on their lonesome."
"Really? You would really do that for me?" the kid asked.
"Undoubtedly," Kiryl confirmed.
"You guys are so nice… I want to be nice too. I want to be the all-true-stick. I want everyone else to be happy on Christmas. So… don't worry about getting me any Christmas gifts. But I want to help other people have nice gifts. That's what you would do, right, Father?"
"You are absolutely correct, Alek," responded the priest. "Alek, you are going to save Christmas. I am proud of you."
"Thank you, Father. I, I want to be like you."
"You have a wonderful heart, Alek. I am certain of it. Now, shall we get our holiday cheer going?"
The following three days passed calmly, the group of three making preparations for Christmas. One of the primary things they aided with was decorating the New Year Tree in Zalenagrad. They placed their own handmade ornaments among its branches, wrapped tinsel around it, and hung lights on it.
They even managed to get Tsar Stepan to help them get started with baking a large batch of cookies on Christmas Eve. The tsar was more than happy to help his daughter with whatever she needed, and treated Alek as kind as if he were his own son.
"Ahahah, as much as I would love to help, I am truly not an avid baker, so I trust you three will have this under control…?" Alena admitted. She wore an innocent smile, yet slyly winked to the priest, who nodded sweetly.
"I recall last time you made attempt to bake. Flour went everywhere, hahah. No worries, Alena," Kiryl said.
"You're going away?" the child wondered. "Why?"
"I merely require a break. I will return before you are aware. It will be as if I was never gone," the short lady explained before making her exit.
The tsar simply laughed, remaining with the others to help out. He wasn't that great a baker either, but with Kiryl leading the group, there were no issues. Alek felt comfortable with the adults watching over him, quickly becoming accustomed to Stepan, who truly felt like yet another sweet father. "There are others just as kind as me that the Goddess has chosen for you," Kiryl had said earlier. The kid had faith in his words, seeing just how gentle anyone can be.
Later that day, Alena did come back, and the group of four decorated the cookies with icing and sprinkles. Each cookie had its own personality, whether it be childish and fun, or mature and fancy. Alek's cookies were especially easy to point out, them having the most icing and the most charming smiles drawn with sprinkles.
After a day of hard work, and Kiryl's eyes still looking worn, he excused himself for early rest while the royal family took Alek upstairs. The three ate a few cookies and sat near the fireplace, playing with a few fun old toys Alena dug out from her room. By the end of the night, the child asked them, "Can I sleep with the priest?"
"Of course you can. Let us go see him," agreed Alena, leading the way back down the stairs.
Alek was the one to knock on Kiryl's door and wait patiently for a response. A moment later, it creaked open, the tall man behind it becoming visible. "Hello, there, Alek. Did you want to rest in here tonight?"
"Yes, please, Father," the child nodded.
"Come on in."
The royals left, Kiryl closing the door and lifting the little boy up and into bed. He tucked the child in, and when all was calm, he began to sing a short song.
"Good night, sleep tight, wake up bright, in the morning light, to do what is right, with all your might. Alright, have a good sleep, think of all the fun things you did today… is there anything you would like to say?"
"I want to say… those cookies were super yummy. You should have some."
"I will. Anything else?"
"Tsar and Tsarevna are really nice people. Hanging out with them was fun."
"I am glad."
"That's it, I think… good night, Father."
"Sweet dreams, Alek."
With that, Christmas morning finally came. Royals, servants, guards, and guests funnelled out of the castle in straight lines, walking out into the gentle winter weather with their thick garments warming them. The priest and princess marched on opposite ends of the copper-haired boy, each holding one of his hands. Even the child had cozy clothing, and the same orange scarf from before was wrapped snugly around his neck.
At last, they arrived at Zalenagrad, the New Year Tree shining mightily on the town below. And under the great boughs of the evergreen sat maybe one or two hundred wrapped presents, on a snow-sprinkled carpet.
The group carefully stepped up close to the edge of the circular red carpet that lay under the tree. A large circle of people formed, more and more gathering behind, all facing toward the center. With the sound of a whistle, a section of the crowd parted to create a path for the tsar to walk through and step onto the carpet and announce the commencement of the ceremony.
"Good morning, and Merry Christmas to all."
"Merry Christmas," the crowd returned in almost perfect harmony.
"I comprehend you must all be quite excited this morning, so let us waste no time and proceed with opening our gifts," declared Stepan.
The children cheered enthusiastically following his words. With a firm nod, the king knelt in front of the nearest pile of presents, to read the name tag on them. After seeing who the presents were addressed to, he called out that person's name, delivered the pile of presents to them, and everyone watched them be opened. This cycle continued for what felt like at least an hour before the pile of presents was nearly exhausted. In a panorama of the circle of folks, you could see so many brightened faces, hugging their gifts, whether it be sweet treats, plush toys, rare tools, or unique knick-knacks and symbols.
"Alright, I believe that is every last one. Thank you all for joining with us today," shouted the tsar. Folks began to disperse, heading back toward the castle, save for a few.
"I beg your pardon, Tsar," the navy-coated priest interjected, voice not accusing, only requesting. "Please search under the tree once more."
"Hmm? Let me see… Oh." It was spotted. One more small wrapped gift rested just beside the trunk of the tree. The tsar crawled under the heavy-hanging branches to reach it and pull it out. "To… Alek."
The young boy lifted his head in surprise. He released his grip on his retainers' hands and waddled forward onto the carpet as the tsar approached, recognizing him from the days before. Stepan smiled warmly as he gently placed the wrapped object in front of the kid, who looked at it with confusion and wonder.
"But I didn't ask for anything," Alek protested. "Is this really for me?" The boy's brown eyes fell toward the name tag as he unfolded it to read.
To: Alek
From: Father Frost
"From Father Frost…? He's real?" The puzzled and excited child began clawing and ripping apart the wrapping paper, desperately wishing to know what perfect gift lay inside. After all, it was from Father Frost himself.
Layer after layer of wrapping paper peeled off. Sheets tossed to the front, sides, and behind. At last, a solid object began to expose itself underneath. An almost peanut-shaped piece of wood. It was freshly painted with the design of a smiling woman in deep maroon robes.
"Uhm, I don't get it…" whined the kid, unsure of how to feel.
"Shake it, Alek," advised the tall man standing close behind him.
"Shake it? Okay…" So he gave the toy a little jiggle. To his surprise, a clatter of wood resounded within. There was something inside the toy. With a gasp of realization, Alek now noticed the thin crease line that ran vertically down the doll, as if to split it in half. And that is just what he did when he pulled the two pieces apart, revealing a new doll inside. It was freshly painted as well, but detailed a man in forest green attire instead. This one also had another crease line. Breaking open this doll as well, Alek was met with one final doll in the centre. The smallest of them all, yet somehow, the oldest. The wood was worn, and so was the crusty paint. But this was also the most familiar to him… because it bore his exact image.
"This is matryoshka," said Alek's mother. "It is doll that represents family. Look, your father has painted lovely doll for you."
"You are youngest, so you will be centerpiece," Alek's father added. "We will surround and protect you, Alek. Our child."
Tears suddenly flowed from the child's eyes before he even realized what he was thinking about. His mama and papa. Gone. But then, his thoughts were cut short by the presence of a new, unfamiliar voice patting his ears softly.
"Merry Christmas, Alek," said two unknown voices, one masculine and one feminine, in unison.
When the boy lifted his head to look up at the adults greeting him, he was faced with the exact same smiles the two adult wooden dolls wore. "Who… are you?"
The two adults chortled for a moment, before kneeling down on the carpet. They reassembled the two nesting dolls that represented themselves, respectively. Then, placing them all upright and side-by-side, Alek was able to see the big picture. "Mama? Papa?"
"That is correct, Alek," said the man.
"The Goddess placed us together so we may be able to support each other," the woman began. "Our child was taken from us. Now your parents have been taken from you. Fate has united us together to recreate the bonds of family in an all-new way."
The child continued to weep, overflowing with emotions he didn't quite understand. A stress built up inside him quickly. He didn't know what to feel, or say. So badly did he want to be loved, cared for and protected, yet so badly did he not want things to change. For joining this family would mean leaving behind the man that saved his life and helped him honour his parents' death, the man that was so kind to him, unlike any other adult he had ever met… the man that showed him what it meant to be altruistic even when your own situation had little to smile about.
In an effort to see that man again, Alek tried to twist his little body around to where the priest stood behind him. However, in that time, a flurry of snowy wind blew by, almost completely obscuring the kid's vision. Squinting, Alek could make out the fuzzy image of two figures, one a head or so taller than the other. Their shadowy silhouettes rustled in the wind, unperturbed by the weather. A connection made itself clear to Alek.
Father Frost? Snow Maiden?
The snow passed, revealing the two folks as nothing but ordinary people. A tall priest in a navy blue fur coat, and a short lady in a bright red get-up. Yet the child still wondered… "Father? Father Frost?"
The priest's gentle eyes gazed down at the boy, a smile refusing to leave his face.
"Don't leave me," the child sobbed, leaping onto one of the man's legs to squeeze it tightly.
"Oh, Alek…" Kiryl purred, setting down a comforting hand on Alek's shoulder as he continued to hug his leg. "I am not going anywhere. You may visit at any time, and I will always show you identical hospitality. You can come with your family and friends as often as you like."
"We shall to visit you as well, of course." Alena added with astuteness.
The child sniffled, slowly detaching from the wool valenki he had been embracing. "Y-You should have your scarf back," warbled Alek. With his two hands, after a bit of struggling, he managed to pull the orange scarf over his neck and lifted it up to present it to its owner. "Here."
"Thank you, Alek. You are most considerate." Kiryl knelt down to accept the small gift, returning the scarf to its place on his own bare neck.
Alek smiled and nodded, finally having the conscience to wipe tears off his face. "Let's go to the castle," he suggested. "It's warm in there. And there's lots of food to eat. Everyone else is going inside. Let's follow them."
"Great idea," agreed Kiryl, turning to lead the way with a gentle gesture.
Inside was welcoming and warming. Town folks from Zalenagrad and other neighbouring villages of the continent filed up and down the courtyard, banquet tables covered in slowly diminishing plates of food and treats, including the tray of cookies the group had prepared the night before. It wasn't long before Kiryl, Alena, Alek and the rest of the child's new family arrived to take their share. They settled down in Kiryl's bedroom once again. At last in a safe environment, Alek relaxed, looking curiously about the room. At Kiryl, the Father of the church of Zalenagrad, at Alena, the warrior tsarevna, at his two foster parents, and last at the many nondescript items in the priest's chambers. Is the priest some sort of artist? Alek pondered, catching a glance of a couple of paintbrushes in a glass of water on the man's desk. It must have been there the previous night as well, but Alek was too exhausted to notice. On the other side of the desk was where the group had set down the reassembled matryoshka, careful not to disturb its painted surface. He began to put the pieces together… but then, another thought struck the boy, and he opened his mouth to speak. "Tsarevna Alena?"
"Yes, Alek?" the girl responded once she finished a bite of a cookie Alek had decorated.
"What were you doing when you stopped baking with us yesterday?"
"Ahahah," Alena giggled. "I was taking wonderful walk to old town of Taborov. I wished to ensure I could invite as many friends as possible to Zalenagrad's festivities. I even managed to bring some along that may not have otherwise been able to arrive." Her playful grin gave Alek all the answers he needed.
"Th-Thank you, you guys…" the boy sobbed. "This is truly a Christmas miracle."
"This was no miracle, Alek," the priest opposed, a light chuckle in his tone.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"What happened here was not a miracle—the Goddess did not make it happen. It was plain human compassion."
"Oh… I think I get it… but then, what does the Goddess do?"
"The Goddess offers us Her divine guidance when we are in need. But we are not in need when there is plenty of human love to bring us joy."
At this, the kid could not think of a thing to say in response. He was taken aback at the fact that the Goddess wasn't responsible for all the good that happened in the world. Humans can do that just fine on their own.
"How about you go outside with your parents and show them that same love?" Kiryl continued.
Alek turned around to the two he had hardly had the courage to speak to. Despite the positivity of their smiles, Alek had no reputation of theirs to go off of to be certain they were ones he'd be comfortable living with. Then he turned back to the priest, the man he felt was like a true parent he could trust. "Are they really as nice as you?"
And the young man replied with full confidence and a matter-of-fact tone. "Anyone who has felt pain knows how important it is to love. Your parents there have been through just as much pain as you, losing their daughter. I can guarantee they will ensure you will not have to feel any such pain any longer."
"Wow… you're right." Alek then turned to face his parents once again. "Mama? Papa?" he asked, beady eyes pleading up to them as they smiled their gentle smiles back at him. "Can we, um, go play in the snow?"
The priest and princess stood side-by-side in the fields just outside Castle Zamoksva, watching the many children of the neighbouring towns play. Families came together, some building snowmen, others forts for snowball fights, a few fell in the snow and made snow angels, and a couple even tried to toboggan down a small hill. It was a wild and chaotic mix of everything, and yet, among the vigorous crunching of snow, cheerful laughter filled the air.
"I will surely miss taking care of Alek," Kiryl remarked.
Alena replied with little hesitation. "Well, I am certain you will have opportunity to babysit more children in future. Is part of your job, nyet? Though I do understand how tough it can be to have to stop doing something that is rather enjoyable…"
A silence filled the air for a few minutes, the two not making eye contact, before the girl spoke again. "You know, with all the time we had spent making sure Alek would have pleasant Christmas, I had no moment to prepare a gift for you. Though, it is already past the ceremony, so of course, I know you had not created anything for me either. Nor did anyone else. How about that, eh? We had such amusement in aiding Alek, we did not even feel upset about not receiving gifts."
"An excellent observation. We do not require gifts; our lives are not in danger as with Alek's," agreed Kiryl.
"Besides, we are already great friends. We do not require gestures of gifts to prove such a fact." Alena peeked over to see Kiryl's face. His cheeks were rosy red, but Alena couldn't tell if it was just from the cold weather, or if he was blushing. After a gentle nod of agreement, the priest continued to look forward, eyes carefully moving over and around the children ahead, diligently watching them, on the lookout for any accidents. Little did he know, a devilish grin creeped up on Alena's face, a maniacal giggle leaking from her throat, as she stepped behind Kiryl, scooping her gloves into the snow, patting the snow together into a big ball…
A sudden rush of cold swarmed over Kiryl, the force of a large falling boulder condensed into one small snowball colliding with his back. In an instant, he had face-planted into the chilly snow, pain overwhelming his muscles. He couldn't get up.
"Ahahah," the little lady teased. "I got you."
Moments passed, and the man in the snow did not budge.
"Kiryl?" Alena kneeled down to peel the man from the icy snow, but right as she let her guard down, the priest's arm moved like a blur, a sharp sting of cold attacking Alena's face. She recoiled in surprise, brushing off the snow, to see her foe standing back up, snowball in hand. "Oh, you are on." The two faced each other like rivals, confident smirks challenging the other.
Their snowball fight continued for quite a while, until the pair got so exhausted they both simply laid down in the snow and brushed their arms and legs back and forth until the markings in the snow resembled an angel in a dress.
The two being entirely alone, nothing but their own thoughts to play with, a question popped into the tsarevna's head. "Why did you sign the present as being from Father Frost?"
"It was not simple to deduce at first, but at last I realized… that is precisely who Alek sees me as. A father for all, just as a priest is."
Before long, New Year's Day had arrived. It was typically a quieter celebration, done in one's own home, but for Kiryl and Alena, they were surprised and thrilled to have received an invitation to Alek's new home to celebrate the occasion. The two refused to arrive empty-handed, so they filled a small box with extra gifts to thank them for the invitation. The pair travelled to Taborov with a Chimaera wing to ensure they were early. Before Alena could even knock, Alek pulled the door open to let them both in.
"Welcome," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Are you hungry, Tsarevna? Mister Priest?"
Mister Priest, now? Is he at last satisfied with his foster mother and father? I wonder, thought Kiryl.
"Oh, yes, we came with appetites," confirmed Alena.
"With gifts, as well," the priest added, setting down the box of goods onto an open table.
The kid gasped at the sight. "Really? You didn't have to. But… thank you. The food still has to cook… so, uh, can I open this now?"
"Go right ahead," Kiryl permitted, with a nod.
Alek's eyes sparkled, then he quickly turned to the box, reaching to pull it off the table, and then setting it on the floor so he could open it up. To his excitement, he found that the box was full of two things: small books with lovely pictures on the covers, and old toys and stuffed animals.
"The first night I took you under my arm," the priest began, "I scoured my entire bookshelf for books I would have loved to share with you. Now, that duty falls to your parents. I hope you may find joy in them. They were my childhood favourites. You awakened many fond memories of mine."
Then, Alena spoke to add in her part. "A couple of years ago, my father entirely stopped giving me Christmas presents. I always broke them soon after getting them when I got upset and threw a fit. In fact, we sort of distanced for the past two years a lot… until this year. We finally spent quality time together once again, thanks to you. Please, take the last toys I managed not to break in my childhood. They were the most precious to me. I hope you can find that same sort of joy in them."
"Thank you…" the child almost whispered. Alek took the priest and princess' words to heart, being delicate in how he lifted the box back up and carried it to his bedroom. When he returned to the entrance room, he had two new boxes with him. "Mama and papa and me made these for you." He handed a tall box to Alena, and a smaller, rounder box to Kiryl. "Please, open them."
And so, the pair of recipients pulled the boxes open, lifting out their prizes.
Alena had received a pair of wonderful handcrafted winter boots made of a combination of materials for both warmth and physical protection. She gasped in wonder. "This is premium. A pair of boots for winter season that are not as flimsy as wool valenki. These are perfect for winter excursions."
"Kiryl told me how you're a warrior," the boy explained. "But your boots didn't look like warrior boots, so I thought I'd ask Mama to craft better ones for you."
"Thank you, Alek! You are so very observant."
On the other hand, Kiryl had received a small flower-shaped green plant with thick leaves. "A succulent? Ah, I see… you comprehend my passion for gardening. Thank you."
"Not just that. You said you liked taking care of things, didn't you? This is something new to take care of, just from me. Well, Papa and I found it, but…"
"Oh? Well, in that case, how about I name this succulent Alek Junior?"
The kid's eyes widened. "Like a mini-me? That's so cute…"
"Indeed. Alek Junior it is, then."
The priest's warm expression filled the child with a pleasant, tingling feeling of joy throughout his body. Alek couldn't help but sneak another hug in, wrapping his arms tightly around the man's leg. He soon released and stepped back, before realizing something. "Do you smell that? The food is almost ready. Come on, let's go to the dinner table."
Kiryl and Alena nodded, placing their items on the nearby table before following Alek through the house. Eventually, they reached the dining room, a modest table fitted with five place settings, a candle stand in the center providing illumination and a bit of warmth. The pair barely passed through the doorway when they paused, seeing the maroon-robed woman and forest green-wrapped man enter into the room, carrying trays of cooked food. Meat, vegetables, salad… all placed down around the candle stand.
"Greetings," Kiryl said to them, with a wave.
"Ah, guests. Welcome," the lady replied, quickly shuffling over to their side of the room to chat with them, her husband following close behind. "We truly have to thank you for bringing this child to us. He has been nothing but an angel."
"A wonderful addition to our family, indeed," added the husband. "Please, do not hesitate to visit us any time. You folks are always welcome."
"We would be glad to," Alena confirmed.
Alek, who had been grabbing many different food items to put on his plate while the grown-ups chatted, suddenly pointed to something above where Kiryl and Alena stood, with a gasp. "Mister Priest, Tsarevna, look up there."
The child's parents stepped back while the young man and girl leaned their heads back to see what Alek was referring to. They noticed an object taped to the ceiling just beyond the doorway where they couldn't have seen it. It was a plant with many tiny green leaves and bright white berries.