What hides in the dark
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During Arkady's first night in Lovushka the snow started falling.
It buried the land in its white shroud as if it knew what was about to come.

Restlessly, Arkady shuffled through the small chamber in the guard tower, high above the deep valleys and razor sharp mountains.
It was quiet here.
Only the echo of his steps thundered in his ears, accompanied by the snorring of the guard slumped in a chair. He looked too peaceful to wake him up.

So Arkady was alone. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with the night. Alone with the cold.
It oozed through the stones and clawed at his heart until his fingertips had become numb and pale.
So here he was with trembling hands and frozen marrow staring into the dark .
The shadows were thick in this place, they were breathing.
Only a single candle on the windowstill fought against the night - a hopeless battle.

Arkady sighted, shivered and listened to the screaming wind. The shutters rattled and somewhere down there, wolves were howling.

He sat down on the chair next to the sleeping soldier.
Silently, he started reciting an old fairytale his father's housekeeper - Tatiana- had always told him in nights light these.
You have been born in a night like this, Arkasha, she had always said to him. Never forget that.

"In a certain kingdom lived a Prince Ivan", he started. "He had three sisters. The first was the Princess Marya, the second the Princess Olga, the third the Princess Anna. When their father and mother lay at the point of death-"

His voice broke as the window opened with a bang and a gust of wind rushed into the chamber.
Instantly the candle flickered, then died.
Everything turned black.

The silence left with the light.
Someone was crying in the darkness.
A child's voice, high and clear like chiming bells.

"Hello?", Arkady whispered and felt his mouth become dry.
No, no, it was the wind. It must have been the wind, he told himself but he could not stop his hands from trembling.

Suddenly, the candle light up again and Arkady stumbled back.
The soldier was still sleeping soundly in his chair.

He let out a shaky breath, then the crying started again.
Louder this time. From the outside. There, on the batllement!

His heartbeat drummed against his chest, rattling at the bars of his rips like a desperate prisoner as Arkady took one step towards the door.

He extended his hand towards the  handle, grabbed it and pressed it down.
The door did not open.
It was locked.
But I have not locked it.
No, no, he could not have, he did not even have the keys, Krassotkin had kept them...
Impossible.
He pulled on the damn thing again, but it did not move, not even an inch.

Then he heard it - The wind was not howling anymore, it was crying and it was crying all around them.

He whirled around to the other soldier and shook him by his shoulders.
"Wake up!"
Arkady did not dare to scream, his voice was a choked whisper.
The man did not move.
He shook him again.
No motion.

Then there was a sound on the door that made Arkady's blood freeze.
Claws on wood. Scratching.

Helplessly, his gaze shifted through the room.
Walls. Window. Chair. Staircase.
The staircase!

The door cracked dangerously and a deep growl vibrated in the air.
Arkady did not think long, he leaped to the staircase and plunged into the shadows.

Somewhere behind him wood splintered as Arkady sprinted downwards, deeper into Lovushka.
He could barely see where he was running, only knew that he wanted to get away.

Then he heard it. A scream slicing the air, steps behind him, coming closer. Quickly.
The same claws that had met wood now creaked on stone.
Arkady did not dare to look back.
His trembling hands only grasped the familiar pistol around his waste. It did not comfort him as he ran, wheezing for air.
It could not be real, just could not - but he knew it was.

In the next second, he crashed against a wall and stumbled back.
Dread gnawed at his heart as the realisation hit him like brick had - a dead end.

"No, no, this can't be it", he whispered frantically, but his hand had already found his pistol.
He spun around, raised his arm and pulled the trigger.
The shot boomed and hit the target right in the eye. Arkady never missed. Even when he had first picked up a hunting rifle years ago.

But the bullet did not meet flesh. The creature did not scream. Instead, this projectile of his hissed through it like it was mist.
No.
It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.

The thing grit its teeth and its muscles twitched. It was ready to jump and tear out Arkady's throat.
Its fangs and claws looked nothing like mist, to the contrary. They gleamed pearly white and razor sharp in the moonlight.

The thought made his neck itch.
Moonlight? Down here?
He finally saw it. The window - more a slit than anything else- two feed above his head.

Arkady and the beast leaped forward in the same heartbeat.
He jumped up, his fingers closed around stone and he pulled himself up, up through this window.
Glass shattered and shards buried themselves in his hands and cheeks, put he pushed himself further.
Before he could pop out of the window, claws slit his left leg open.
Hot, sharp pain shot through his body and a scream erupted from his lungs the second he squeezed his body through the window.

Panting, bleeding and crying he collapsed on the ground.
It was wet and cold and muddy.
A forest, he realised as he dragged himself over dead leaves and twigs, unable even to stand up.
He was not in the fortress, he was in the woods below it.
No matter what, Arkady could not bring himself to feel the sweet notion of relief.
He looked down at his leg. His boots and trousers were soaked in his own blood.
Was he to bleed out in the wilderness or freeze to death?

Well, apparently, he was first eaten by a beast.
For a roar thundered in the air and a creature of shadow and iron crept through the window he had just escaped from. His blood froze.

It screamed and Arkady pressed his hands on his ears - pointless. The sound shattered thought and world.
Only one word ringed in his ears:
Drekavac. The thing was a drecavac. A paticular hungry one.

Arkady wanted to pray, but no prayer slipped over his lips.
Why should god listen anyway? To him, the bastard son that had not even been baptized because the priest had refused to bless him? To him, the foolish boy condemned by the tsar, god's chosen ruler?
But still, god seemed to hear his silently pleading - and he answered.

A white mare burst through the thicket, glowing like a divine sentinel and its rider beautiful like an angel from heaven.

It was a woman - black haired and  wrapped in a Circassian chokha. A silver sword was in her hands, while the shadow of a rifle towered where an angel's wings should have been.

The mistress, Petritsky had said. Arkady now understood what he had meant.

But as her sabre rushed down to bring justice, it shattered on the creatures skin. Hundreds of silver shards rained  on the forest floor.
The creature snapped at her foaming horse, nearly burieing its teeth in its belly. Only in the last moment did it flinch away.

Pain nearly blinded him as Arkady stumbled to his feet. His sight flickered, he hissed in pain but he could not allow himself to fall to his knees again.
He should run. Run and crawl and escape. He should just leave the woman to her fate and try to grasp the chance he had just been given.
But he could not.

Think Arkady, think, he urged himself.
Tatiana's words were a storm in his head.
The soul of an unbabtized child. A herald of coming death.
But it was Serbian. Tatiana's parents had been from Serbia, not from the Caucsas.
Why here? Why now?
Yet there was no time for answers and no time for questions.

Horse and rider screamed as sharp claws cut the animal's flank. It stumbled and the monster was seconds from ripping the rider's face apart with its sharp teeth and-

It was an instinct locked deep down in his belly that made him act.
He simply raised his hands and called the darkness to his fingertips.
You are going mad, Arkady. You are a fool and you will pay for it with your life.

But the shadows followed his call.
The drekavac let out one last scream and  dissipated into a cloud of mist. Where he  had stood was nothing left.
Only then did Arkady realise the stars were shining and the moon was glowing. The world itself seemed to get brighter - but only for a moment.

His eyelids fluttered, the pain ripped a groan from his lips and his knees threatened to give in beneath him.
For a second, the world became black.

The first thing he felt again was cold steal against his throat.
His eyes flew upon and he wanted to turn around to gaze upon his attacker but the blade stopped him.

"I would not do that if I were you", a voice snarled in the Circassian language. 
"Just give me one reason why I should not cut you down right here and now."
It was the rider. He could even feel her horse's breath hot in his neck just like he felt blood trickling from his throat.

Arkady gulped.
"Please-", he pleaded. "We fought together against this monster. We are no enemies."

Arkady felt her gaze linger on his uniform. It burned in his back.
But as she spoke again, her voice was like a dagger coated in velvet.
"You say we fought against a monster", she said. "But it is your kind that came here to slaughter our cattle, burn our villages and rape our women. So tell me, young lord, what is the difference between you and this creature?"

Arkady remembered Krassotkin's cruel eyes and scarred face.
Barbarians, he had called the mountaineers. Others like him called them bandits. Savages even.

His voice was rasp when he replied:
"I was with one of your men when he died. I buried him. I wanted to help him but I could not. I was too late and did not even know his name when he died. I'm sorry."

The young noble closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable - but it did not come.
Instead, he could hear her whisper:
"You did- Why? But we- My men, the followers of my militia thought - I thought he died in some ditch."

"He was wounded. Maybe even by a thing like this. He said his attacker did not even bleed red", Arkady choked out with sweat on his brow. "He was dieing. I'm sorry."

The sabre at his throat trembled like her hands did.
"Ghwaze. The name of the man we lost  was Ghwaze. Remember it."

She lifted the blade and its cold touch vanished.
Arkady immediately stumbled back and looked into her black eyes.
"I'm Bela", she simply stated.

Bela? Just like in Lermontov's- He thought but interrupted himself.
Still, for just a second  he nearly expected her to knock him out, throw his body over her horse's back and lock him into a room until she had conquered his heart and admiration.
But she only produced something white  from her saddlebag and threw it to him.
He caught it and recognised the soft fabric of bandages.

"You honored my friend and follower in death", Bela continued. "For that I will honor your life. Crawl back into your fortress and pray to your god that whatever lurks in the shadows will spare you."

"Wait!" he called out as she was just about to turn away.  "What- What is this? What is any of this?"
I'm going mad. I'm cursed. They should have left me in some cell. It would have been more merciful. I want to go home.

As Bela turned to him, the sternness in her face wavered. There was softness and doubt in the black of her eyes.
"I don't know. It came when your people spilled our blood."
She shook her head.
Then, her eyes darkened.

"Don't cross my path again, young lord, or I might not show the same mercy again despite your pretty face."

And with that, her horse galloped into the night.