They drank cautiously. The tea was bitter, but not poisonous.
Maksym leaned forward. "What are you doing out here? Why… live in this place?"
Baba Yaha's expression changed, softening with a tired kind of sorrow.
"I was born here. Like my mother. And her mother before her. We were priestesses once, you know. Keepers of an older path. This land belonged to Mara—the Goddess of Death and Sleep. 'She' guarded the end of all things. Not with cruelty… but peace. Rest. Return."
Methodius frowned deeply. "A false goddess."
The witch's eyes glinted. "Don't start preaching in my house, monk. You walk on her bones now. Every tree here remembers her breath."
She stirred the fire. Smoke danced in the shape of a woman—tall, robed, her face hidden behind a mask of shadow.
"But the world grew scared of her. Of endings. Your god, Rod, sealed 'Her' here. Sealed all of us. Our people fell into dreams and rot. 'She' was buried under roots, trees and time."
"But now the seals weaken," she sighed, "I don't know why. You've seen it. The whispers. The drowned. The hunger."
Lybid nodded slowly.
"This stories are older than any of you and your ancestors, I don't know the truth hidden behind her sealing. I cannot believe every word my mother told me about the Goddess."
"You want her to wake?"
The witch laughed, bitter and loud. "Gods, no. If Mara wakes now, before her strength returns, she'll definitely bring disaster. Death that can't be undone. She'll kill me too. I'm the last tongue of that Death. 'Her' last shadow. But I don't want to die."
Methodius narrowed his eyes. "What do you want from us?"
Baba Yaha smiled. "To stop her. Or free her. Or kill her. I no longer care. But you must give me enough time to flee." She stood, her bones cracking. "Wiser. And honest with yourselves to fight the Goddess. And, maybe, I will help you."
"So," she said, stepping toward a draped corner of the hut. "You will face the Mirror of Curse. You will look into it. You will see the thing you hide. The lie that binds you. If you survive, I'll show you where to go next and provide with some help," she winked.
She threw back the curtain.
Behind it, a tall mirror stood, rimmed in bone and ash, its surface like frozen oil.
"Who's first?" she glanced at Shchek with a playful smile.