Chapter 7, people. Enjoy!
Nadejda simply looked at me, then at my empty teacup... and then back at me again. She picked up the teacup, and stared into it for a long period of time.
"Destined to achieve the impossible. That's very interesting."
*
She put the cup on the table, and sat quietly for a moment. I waited, frozen in complete shock at what she said. Anton was looking from me to Nadejda, to me and back at Nadejda again.
We stayed completely silent for what seemed like an age. Hesitantly, she picked the cup up again. She peered into it once more, frowning slightly as she did so.
"YELIZAVETA!" She screamed suddenly. Anton and I both started. "Excuse me a moment, child. I need to go and find my daughter," she told me. She snatched up the cup and hurried out of the room. I could hear her shouts and calls resounding in the hall as she went to look for Dimitri's mother.
"Did she just say...?" Anton asked me in a low voice. I snapped out of the trance I seemed to have fallen into and sat back down.
"Yeah," I said. I was in shock. "I think she did." Anton shook his head.
"That's impossible, though, Rose," he told me. "You know it is. I think the old woman's finally cracked up." I glared and thumped him. He yelped in pain.
"Don't say that about her, and stop being an idiot."
We fell silent again. Minutes passed, and eventually Nadejda hurried back in, this time with a middle-aged woman tailing her. I assumed this to be Yelizaveta, Dimitri's mother, for the simple reason that she bore an uncanny resemblance to her son, in terms of her face — she had his hard eyes, his soft smile, his angular set of bones. I stood up as she entered, and she came over and drew me into a tight embrace.
"Roza," she whispered. Her voice sounded so musical, so sincere. I was entranced. Finally, she broke away from me, and sat down next to Nadejda. Her face was tear-stained, but she wore an excited, even anxious smile.
"Roza, there's no mistaking it," Nadejda told me. "I'm not going to pretend I'm not shocked about this. I didn't think it would be possible. I'm going to need to do more readings, and try and go into this a bit. But the world, the natural forces... they are telling me. You are my grandson's saviour. You shall deliver him from evil."
"How?" I asked, my voice scarcely audible. "How it that possible?"
"I'm not sure," the old woman said hesitantly. "I've never... never... heard this before, in my lifetime. I've never heard it at all. This is something entirely new. This... you could revolutionise the defence lines against Strigoi. You could save not only our Dimitri, but everyone, Moroi and Dhampir alike. You have been marked, my dear child. You have been chosen." I grew frustrated.
"How, though? That doesn't explain anything at all! How am I chosen? Because I'm shadow-kissed? Because I've seen the 'dark side' and I know its weaknesses? Strigoi aren't even dead! They're undead. I can't..." I trailed off. "I can't possibly... I'm not meant to save us all." I choked back a sob. "Don't you see? I want an ordinary teenage life. For once, I don't want to be killing monsters or guarding princesses. I want to be me."
"And what happens if this life is meant for you, Roza? Tell me that. How can you deny your fate, when it's written out in front of you?" returned Nadejda. She was using this no-nonsense, almost scary tone. "This is you." I paused at this.
"Even so... even if it were... I don't know how... you know. How to..." I was fumbling for words, and Yelizaveta's interruption saved me. Sort of.
"I do!" she exclaimed suddenly. We all looked at her questioningly. Her face had brightened immensely; she no longer seemed upset at all. "I know — oh God, I know. There was... Mat'(1), do you remember... the woman in the village? The madwoman." She frowned, trying to recall. "Arine! Do you remember Arine?"
(1) Original text: Мать, meaning "mother"
Nadejda nodded slowly.
"Yes, I remember her. Completely off her rocker, that woman. What about her?"
Yelizaveta then launched into a massive explanation in Russian, so I had no idea what she was telling Nadejda. Neither of them were giving much away, apart from when Nadejda squeaked out a loud, "what?", before continuing back on in Russian. Anton, on the other hand, I could see was quite sceptical, then shocked... and then completely and utterly horrified.
"That's absurd," he breathed.
"What is?" I asked. He glanced at me sharply. Nadejda and Yelizaveta seemed to remember we were still here, and turned back to us.
"One of the things we who stay in the villages as opposed to going to train as a Guardian tend to pick up on is a lot of cultural history, and all of the old folklore and myths and such. Quite often, we see parts of our history being mirrored in present day, and it makes for such good gossip in the village...
"Anyway, there aren't any about changing Strigoi as such, but there is a fluctuation - if you'll call it that - in one of the old tales written down. One of the people in the story starts out as a monster — a Strigoi — and then just randomly, part way through he's a Moroi. No one knew how that happened, and everyone just assumed that the error was... I don't know. That it was a mistake.
"There's this madwoman down at the village, called Arine. Everyone thinks she's mad, because she tells the most absurd stories. We honestly thought they were all lies. Now, Arine's a human. No one knows how she ended up living with us dhampirs... she just did. No one questioned it, because people tend to show up and leave randomly around here. Anyway, we're all talking one day... there's a massive group of us. And Arine comes running out at the mention of Strigoi. Everyone by this point knows Arine is mad, but we decide to humour her, and she talks about how she's seen with her own two eyes, a Strigoi changing into a Moroi."
My eyes widened. "How does that work?" I asked. Yelizaveta shook her head and shrugged.
"I can't remember. She didn't go into too much detail, I don't think, and aside from that... she was insane. No one cared to pay attention to the things she had to say. Everyone just thought she was delusional — she did start having all kinds of crazy hallucinations at some point. So I have no idea what she actually said... only that she did say it was possible. I think... she's still around," Yelizaveta told me.
"Crazy as ever," Nadejda added.
"Completely. But she's still alive. We have to find her, Roza! We have to go and find Arine now and make her tell us!"
Beside me, Anton stood up sharply, gripping onto my sleeve and hauling me up with him.
"That," he said in a low voice that made him sound quite dangerous, "is quite enough." I pulled away from him.
"What the hell?" I asked, annoyed.
"Well for starters, you're not even a guardian. This isn't part of your work, since you haven't even graduated. Secondly, I think that even though you don't seem it, you're actually a lot smarter than you're letting on — too smart to be following this crap. And finally, we actually have to leave."
"And why's that?" I asked, scowling.
"Because," he returned steadily. "If we don't, Valik will send out a search party looking for us."
"Screw this," I muttered. I looked towards Nadejda and Yelizaveta, who shrugged sombrely.
"Roza, if you have to go now, then go," Yelizaveta told me. "But please — I implore of you, please. You have to come back. You will come back, won't you?" I nodded silently. "I promise you, I will try and contact Arine. I'll find out as much as I can for you. Just... come back."
"I'll be doing more readings too, child. We'll find out exactly what we need to, and we will see you too. Just — next time, try and ditch the escort." She shot Anton a filthy look, to which he nodded curtly.
"Right. We're going." Before I could think to say anything else, he dragged me off.
We headed back to the Academy in silence. The sun was beginning its descent, casting off a soft orange glow across the village.
"Bloody insane," Anton muttered.
"What's that?"
"I can't believe you actually believe that crap." I clenched my fists at my side, and kept on walking.
"You know you would too, if you were in my shoes." I whispered. I don't know if he heard; if he did, he didn't give anything away. The Academy gates loomed overhead and my newest prison welcomed me home.
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