The Tale of Alexei & Aniska
Once upon a time, in a land far and away, lived a set of twins, orphaned on their birth day; Alexei, a boy, and Aniska, his sister, had not a thing in the world but their love for one another. Whatever the blessing or cause for despair, what life handed to one was always shared between the pair.
The lone siblings never deplored their plight, and whenever possible always looked for the light. For they knew bitterness was to a heart but a righteous traitor, and that counting misfortunes only ever hurt the counter. They learned how to cook, they learned how to clean, they even tried their hand tending to a flock of sheep. Every night in the village, they went about the same routine, knocking on every door, offering hard honest work for board and keep.
But these were hard times where nothing ever grew, where the cursed winter had come, leaving everything blue. Farmers and woodsmen alike came home daily empty-handed. And without a second thought shut their doors, leaving the poor twins stranded.
Rumors spread like wildfire among the townspeople. What could have brought upon this unimaginable evil?
“ ’Tis the work of the Winter Witch!” cried the baker.
“The White Wolf’s prints are all over this!” shouted the butcher.
“We have incurred their wrath, our wrongdoings must be paid. So they may forgive the past, a sacrifice must be made,” declared at last the shopkeeper.
Terrified families huddled closer, parents and children holding on to one another. All eyes soon turned to the lone siblings. With no one to their defense, they made for easy pickings. They were given a single loaf of bread and one bottle of milk, and through the front gates were pushed out with bony fingers and sticks.
“Go into the woods. Do what must be done,” commanded the villagers, “And don’t you dare come back, before your work is done. As long as the moon shines blue and snow covers your tracks; know that a fruitless return will be welcomed with an axe.”
Alexei and Aniska walked and walked with naught to guide their way, and rationed their lean supplies to one gulp and bite a day. To forget their empty stomachs, they recounted beloved stories, and sang the most cheerful songs to help assuage their worries.
On the very first night, while lying under a full moon, they heard a wolf cry a pained and sorrowful tune. “The White Wolf!” the children exclaimed. They ran back to the village as fast as they could, but were greeted with pitchforks and tossed right back into the woods.
They retraced their steps, cold, hungry, and afraid, and on that second night huddled closer as the wolf’s moan replayed. They climbed a tree and slept on the thickest branch they could find. All night long they held hands to drive away the shadows in their minds.
Perched high above in the mountains, an old owl watched the young orphans. In this land of dying hope, he’d been drawn to their resilient spark, and had vowed to safeguard it, sending them light in the dark. The Eye of the Sky, or so they called him, flew down to the dreamers, and in their sleep tried to warn them:
“In the deep, deep, forest that whispers her name,
That knows her every secret and calls out her shame,
The Queen shattered her mirror to forget who to blame,
And now seeks redemption with the help of a blade.
“Leave tonight, my children, the battle ahead is already lost,
For there is no greater menace than a guilty heart turned to frost.
Deal with the devil, and you’ll wager your soul and your head,
And if you let the dead keep you, you may just as well be dead.”
Alexei and Aniska did not understand the strange message, and the next morning carried on through the frozen foliage. On the third night, as they neared exhaustion, they met a beautiful woman who appeared as a vision. She had silver-blue hair that fell to her knees, lips the color of sapphire; and wore a pearlescent gown that lit the ground beneath, and was crowned with rings of fire. With a beatific smile, her pale skin translucent in the snow, she embraced the young travelers, promising them a better ‘morrow.
She took one of their hands in each of hers, and they no longer felt the cold. She then placed a kiss on their forehead, and their fears could no longer take hold. She blew into their mouth, and they lost the need to feed. And when she covered their skin with ice, they could no longer bleed.
Days turned to months, and months turned to years. The siblings were all but lost, numb under their lustrous veneer. They forgot how to speak, they forgot to think; they forgot how to feel, worst of all, they forgot how to sing. They were never happy, they were never sad—they could not feel a thing, not even when things got really bad.
Night after night, they sleepwalked to the Glass Tower, joined by hundreds of other children under the witch’s power. The Winter Witch would greet them with biscuits and hot tea; brewed with her special crystal, for the lost infants she claimed as family.
Tentacles of liquid silver sprouted from the Queen’s regal dress, and locking around each child, tethered them to the enchantress. Every night, they set out into the endless darkness, hundreds of floating lights hostage to the Queen’s madness. The White Witch would sneak up behind tree after tree, and as if playing hide and seek, would replicate her plea:
“Little Mishka! Little Mishka! Come out, come out and play! Little Mishka, I promise: Mummy’s here to stay.”
But only the wounded wolf ever responded, its long howl reverberating in the forest. From dusk ‘til dawn, the captives followed the sorceress, searching endlessly for the pup in the frozen wilderness. Whatever route they took, whatever echo they followed, always led them back to the same stone altar in a hollow. The pale lady would sigh but turn to the brood smiling, and choose the poor lamb just ripe for the offering. Every night, a storm gathered filled with the sparks of pain. Every night, the lot returned with one less thread on their glowing chain.
On one of the darkest and coldest nights, Alexei’s turn came to perish at the site. The Winter Witch made Aniska surround the base with a golden rope, and with a sorry smile explained she was down to her last hope. From her dress, the enchantress pulled a chipped wooden toy: a small white wolf, a remnant of her lost joy. She bent down and, whispering into the brother’s ear, showed him the figurine. Alexei nodded and fell into a deep sleep upon hearing the words of the Queen. She brought the toy to her blue lips and laid it gently on the boy’s chest. Four white candles appeared at the corners of his deadly nest: One to undo the unforgivable past; One to bring anew the lost, recast; One to deny the debt to be paid; And one to conceal the innocence betrayed.
With one breath, the white Queen lit up their indigo flames. Under her incantations, they grew taller and connected, as she kept repeating the same name. A gust of wind picked up speed, and a storm gathered all around them. Above Alexei’s heart, a sword of ice and lightening formed, glowing as a gem.
Acting on pure instinct, from intent formulated so often it became second nature, Aniska threw her body over that of her brother’s. The falling blade exploded on impact into meteor showers, shattering the silver bonds holding the children prisoners. The damaged toy had vanished, realized the witch with dread, for a Great White Wolf now appeared in its stead. He bared his long fangs standing over the siblings, and taking a step forward, growled his final warning.
The vanquished Queen clutched at her breast, feeling her thawing heart breaking in her chest. The spell at last broken, the fatal wounds were revealed, with one so raw and deep, it could never be healed. She looked enviously at the sleeping boy, so peaceful, so calm. How lucky he must be, she thought, to be loved away from harm. She turned to the unconscious girl and her unlikely new guardian, and with wisdom grasped too late, left her with this confession.
“Once upon a time, my heart beat true like yours,
But all hardens and darkens, that which must endure.
Beware, child of light, even ghouls were born with their slate clean,
’Tis but a series of choices that turns the lamb into a fiend.
“Heed the words of the penitent, they are often the wisest,
For no lesson is better learned, than that which hits the hardest.
No sinner is too far gone, who is willing to face his greatest failure,
Meet your demons head on, lest you become the dreaded monster,
The tyrant that sheds innocent blood and blinds himself to the horror,
For both heaven and hell may await you, when you look into the mirror.”
The fair witch then collapsed on the heavy snow, warm blood pooling around her as she lost her glow. Little by little, the ice began to melt, dashes of color reemerging along the coastal belt. The long-awaited spring eventually returned, bringing back with it the sweet life and its inevitable trivial concerns.
Alexei and Aniska were never heard of or ever seen again. Some believed they followed the defeated witch back to her realm. Others claimed they had been named King and Queen, the first to be deemed worthy of the lands of stolen dreams. There were always those who pointed up above, and said they were turned to stars through the sheer power of their love. But every now and then, rumors of sightings circulated at the village tavern. Though some details changed, the accounts always followed the same pattern; Under a blue moon, the pale silhouettes appeared in the night, Alexei carrying a shield of fire, Aniska with a blade of light. And the Great White Wolf, always at their side.
