The room was a creative haven, with fashion pinups taped to the walls and pencils scattered beneath an art desk overflowing with vibrant sketches; this was Jessica and Azure’s shared apartment, but here, in this sun-drenched corner, it was her personal sanctuary.
On a warm Saturday in the final week of May, Jessica Creed sat at her cluttered desk, bathed in the golden late-afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Soft shadows stretched across the room as the smooth melody of “So in Love” by OMD drifted from her portable CD player. The repeated playlist from The Best of OMD provided a soothing, almost hypnotic backdrop.
Her graphite-smudged hands moved with care as she finalized her croquis fashion portfolio, a crucial part of her coursework at LIM College, where she was in the first semester of the undergraduate fashion program. The assignment required thirty designs, each intended to showcase her creativity and technical skill, and the completed portfolio would count for sixty percent of her grade.
After finishing her twenty-sixth drawing, Jessica felt exhaustion weigh on her. She set her pencil aside, leaned back in the chair, and tapped her chin thoughtfully as she studied the design.
Was it truly finished?
Fashion was her lifeblood, the passion that propelled her forward. At LIM College, she had found the ideal setting to immerse herself in that world. Yet despite the excitement of pursuing her dreams, a persistent loneliness had begun to gnaw at her, most acutely during the long hours Azure was away.
He was the reason she could pursue this dream, providing the financial support that let her attend college. But his work often kept him away for weeks at a time, leaving her to navigate the vast emptiness of their spacious apartment alone.
She hated it when he left.
She hated the silence that fell over the rooms in his absence.
What once felt like a sanctuary had transformed into something else—a place where dark thoughts and disturbing events seeped in after nightfall.
Azure and Xavier had been home for only a week after returning from Egypt when duty called them away once more. Seven precious days. That was all Jessica had been given before they disappeared into another assignment.
She had hoped for more time. She had wanted to hold on to the sense of completeness her husband's presence had given her.
Instead, the apartment felt larger than before. Hollow.
The shadows seemed to deepen, and the quiet intensified with every thought that passed through her mind.
Why did they have to leave after just one week?
At first, it had been small things.
An odd creak in the floorboards.
A shadow flickering at the edge of her vision.
Jessica told herself it was nothing—the apartment settling and her imagination playing tricks.
Then came the whispers.
Low and unintelligible, hovering just beyond the edge of her hearing.
The silence that had once comforted her now felt thick and suffocating. The shadows grew bolder, twisting into shapes that defied reason and seemed to press in around her.
And then Baba Yaga appeared.
At first, the dark, twisted figure from Lukomorye haunted only Jessica’s dreams. The crone’s malevolent face would emerge from the darkness just before Jessica awoke, drenched in cold sweat.
Soon, the visions followed her into the waking world.
She saw Baba Yaga in mirrors, her face twisted into a mocking sneer. Sometimes Jessica caught only a fleeting glimpse—a tattered shawl vanishing around a corner or the cold glint of dark eyes in a window.
Each time, her heart lurched, and her mind struggled to dismiss the sight as a trick of the light.
But somewhere deep inside her, Jessica knew better.
The visions were no illusion.
The witch was there, a silent witness to her unraveling, and no amount of logic could drive her away.
Jessica’s gaze drifted toward the digital clock perched above her watercolor station. A knot of anticipation tightened in her chest.
Azure’s call was approaching.
His calls had become her lifeline, a tether anchoring her in the storm of her fears. His voice filled the emptiness and banished the shadows, if only for a little while.
The thought of hearing him again sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach, momentarily pushing back the creeping dread.
Their daily calls had become a cherished routine. No matter how exhausted or overwhelmed Jessica felt, Azure’s voice always brought comfort. It reminded her why she pursued her passion, built a future, and strove to make him proud.
Jessica closed her eyes, savoring the anticipation of her husband’s call. The thought of his warm, steady voice brought her a moment of calm. She allowed herself a brief respite, knowing she needed every ounce of strength to finish the four designs still on her desk.
For now, she let the warmth of their connection fill her, a fragile shield against the shadows creeping into her thoughts.
Azure was just a phone call away.
At least, that was what she tried to convince herself of.
But the darkness had a way of creeping back in, uninvited and relentless. It pressed against the edges of her thoughts, seeping through every crack and reminding her of fears she preferred to leave unspoken.
Jessica glanced at the clock.
Her anticipation faltered.
“You’re late, husband,” she whispered, barely breaking the heavy silence.
The clock’s digits glowed cold and indifferent. It was half an hour past three, the time Azure was supposed to call. She hadn’t noticed the minutes slip away, dissolving into the apartment’s oppressive stillness.
Now, unease gnawed at her, sharp and insistent.
This feeling wasn’t the familiar dread stirred by shadows or by ancient witches. This fear was different—immediate and painfully real.
What if something had happened to Azure?
Her gaze darted to the phone. She snatched the cordless handset with trembling hands and pressed it to her ear. The familiar hum of the dial tone offered a brief, fragile comfort.
The line worked.
He still had time to make a call.
Jessica slowly placed the phone back in its cradle.
“What could have kept you from calling?” she whispered.
She reached for the portable CD player and lowered the volume, silencing OMD’s “Dreaming” just as the first drumbeats and harp notes began to play.
The music vanished.
A low, gravelly voice oozed from the shadows, filling the room like poisonous vapor.
“Do not worry. Nothing has happened to your beloved one.”
Jessica froze.
Her heart pounded so violently that she could hear it echo in her ears. The voice had come from behind her, near the closet.
Against every instinct warning her not to look, she slowly turned toward the open door.
The darkness within seemed to pulse with sinister life. Something ancient and malevolent watched her from beyond the reach of the afternoon light.
Baba Yaga.
The crone’s voice sliced through the air, each word sharp and cold as shards of glass.
“I know zis to be true,” the hag rasped, her tone dripping with dark amusement. “Your womb... it stays empty, yes? No child, hm?”
Jessica’s breath caught in her throat.
The words slithered into her mind like venom, coiling around her heart and squeezing until she could barely breathe.
A cackle erupted from the closet's depths.
The sound filled the small room, vibrating through the floor and settling into her bones. It promised nothing but suffering.
“Ven ze time comes,” Baba Yaga continued, her voice tinged with sinister prophecy, “ven you carry ze child inside... zat is ven you should worry… draga moja.”
The final words hung in the air, heavy and inescapable.
Cold sweat prickled Jessica’s skin as the closet door creaked and swayed, as though brushed by an invisible hand.
She wanted to run.
She wanted to cross the room, slam the door shut, and banish the darkness back into the hellish void from which it had emerged.
But her body refused to move.
Jessica remained rooted at her desk, trapped by the ancient fear that had wormed its way into her life.
The silence returned.
Yet Baba Yaga’s presence remained.
Jessica felt it in the shadows surrounding her and in the dread the witch had unearthed within her. The voice had faded, but its warning lingered, a chilling reminder that some fears could not be escaped by simply waking from a nightmare.
The designs scattered across her desk were forgotten. The warmth she had felt moments earlier evaporated, leaving a cold certainty.
Her life—her future—had somehow become entwined with the hag’s dark prophecy.
One question gnawed at her, urgent and unanswered.
“Where are you, Azure?”
The phone rang.
Its shrill abruptness shattered the oppressive quiet and ripped a cry from Jessica’s throat. She spun toward it, nearly knocking over a jar of pencils as she scrambled to lift the receiver.
Expectation and dread collided in her.
“Azure?” she whispered, pressing the phone to her ear.
A brief silence followed.
Then his familiar voice came through the line.
“Jessica, it’s me.”
Relief flooded her so fast that her knees wobbled. She sank into her chair, clutching the phone as if it were her only connection to the world.
“Azure,” she breathed. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Emotion thickened her voice, though relief quickly gave way to frustration.
“I was so worried. Why didn’t you call sooner?” Jessica scolded.
“I’m sorry, Jess,” he replied, exhaustion weighing down every word. “We just landed in Ireland. The flight was delayed, and everything was chaotic. I didn’t get a chance to call until now.”
Jessica closed her eyes and let his voice wash over her. The fear that had gripped her moments earlier began to ease, though it did not vanish.
“I was starting to think something terrible had happened,” she admitted, vulnerability trembling beneath her words.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Azure said softly. “I wish I could have called sooner, but everything’s been… complicated.”
Her eyes opened.
“Complicated how?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “Is everything all right?”
A long silence stretched across the line.
Jessica sat up straighter, her relief beginning to unravel.
When Azure finally answered, his voice held an unfamiliar weariness.
“Ireland isn’t what I expected. There’s something off here, something… unsettling. I can’t quite explain it, but I feel we’re being watched, as if a presence is just out of sight.”
A chill raced through Jessica’s veins. His words seemed to draw the last warmth from the room. It was as though the darkness looming over her had reached across the miles to wrap itself around Azure.
“Do you think it’s related to… her?” Jessica’s voice dropped to a whisper.
She could not bring herself to say Baba Yaga’s name aloud. Not while the closet stayed open behind her.
“Who?” Azure asked, his confusion clear. “I don’t know what it is, Jess. Whatever it is, it feels old and powerful. It’s as if the land itself is alive, waiting for something—or someone.”
Jessica tightened her grip on the phone.
The shadows, the prophecy, and Azure’s unease seemed to converge around them, drawing husband and wife into a web neither could yet perceive.
“Promise me you and Xavier will be careful,” she pleaded. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to either of you. Not now.”
“I promise, Jess,” Azure replied, his voice steady. “We’ll be careful, but you have to promise me something, too.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t let my being away keep you from finishing your portfolio.”
Jessica glanced toward the workstation. Her nearly complete portfolio lay there, surrounded by pencils and discarded sketches.
“I’ve been working on it,” she said confidently, though her thoughts remained tangled in what had happened.
A soft rustle came from behind her.
Jessica’s confidence vanished.
She slowly turned her head toward the closet.
The sound came again, like brittle fabric being dragged across the floor.
Her fingers tightened around the receiver.
Had Baba Yaga returned?
Jessica tilted her head and narrowed her eyes toward the open closet.
The darkness inside remained still, but something faint shimmered among the shadows. It was subtle, nearly invisible, yet it caught Jessica’s attention and refused to let go.
Curiosity drew her forward.
She crossed the room slowly, each step weighted with anticipation. Baba Yaga’s voice replayed in her mind, followed by the memory of that chilling cackle. The sound threatened to root her to the spot, but Jessica forced herself onward.
The crone was gone.
She had to be.
Jessica raised one hand toward the closet door.
“Jess…”
Azure’s voice crackled through the receiver, pulling her back to the present moment.
“If anything strange happens, you need to let me know right away.”
His concern crossed the space between them, a deliverance offered without his realizing how much she needed it.
“I will,” Jessica vowed.
The lie came easily.
She would not tell him what had happened since their return from Lukomorye. Azure already carried enough burdens. He did not need to know that his wife was seeing witches in mirrors and hearing prophecies whispered from darkened closets.
Her attention remained fixed on the faint glow.
With a swift motion, Jessica flipped on the closet light.
The bulb sputtered, then cast a pale, uneven glow across the hanging clothes and stacked belongings.
The shimmer brightened.
Nestled among her possessions was the golden apple of immortality, its flawless surface gleaming with an otherworldly glow.
Jessica stared at it.
She had nearly forgotten the apple was there, hidden away for safekeeping after their return. Seeing it again felt like confronting evidence of everything she had tried to keep at the edges of her thoughts.
Magick.
Immortality.
Baba Yaga.
A world that could no longer be dismissed as something outside her own.
Jessica inhaled sharply as the weight of the apple’s presence settled over her. It was no longer merely an object. It stood for every unanswered question awaiting her and every consequence she had yet to grasp.
The memory of biting into it in Lukomorye returned with startling clarity.
The taste.
The warmth spreading through her body.
The promise hidden within it.
Immortality.
“Jess?”
Azure’s voice pulled her from the memory again.
“Is something wrong? You sound distracted.”
Jessica kept staring at the apple.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asked, deliberately sidestepping the question.
“I’ll try.” Azure paused. “Wait, aren’t you meeting with Katica tomorrow?”
The mention of the Azovka Elder sparked a flicker of optimism.
Jessica had almost forgotten about their dinner plans.
Katica possessed the kind of wisdom Jessica desperately needed. Her youthful appearance concealed centuries of knowledge, and the thought of sitting across from her offered the possibility of answers—about Baba Yaga, the visions, and the warning that now echoed in Jessica’s mind.
But expectation became entangled with dread.
To reach Katica, one would have to pass through the Wicca Room.
Just the thought made her uneasy.
It was a gathering place for witches, a nexus of power, its calculating eyes and whispered judgments watching. Jessica could already imagine their gazes following her as she crossed the room alone, Azure not beside her.
Their scrutiny had always made her feel like an outsider.
Or prey.
“Thank you for reminding me,” Jessica said.
“Katica’s a great person to talk to,” Azure replied. “She also likes you a lot.”
His attention shifted. In the background, Jessica heard Xavier call to him.
“Sorry,” Azure said. “Our ride just got here.”
They exchanged brief goodbyes, each offering the other a final word of reassurance before the line went dead.
Jessica lowered the handset.
Silence settled back into the apartment.
She stood before the open closet as the golden apple cast long, distorted shadows across the walls.
If only there were a way to avoid walking through that den of predators.
The thought lingered.
Then Jessica’s fear began to fade.
A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Perhaps avoiding them was the wrong decision.
The witches dressed in gloom as though black fabric belonged exclusively to them, as though every veil, fitted sleeve, and sharpened silhouette proclaimed a private authority.
Jessica glanced toward her wardrobe.
She knew about clothing.
She knew how to build confidence through line, texture, and color.
She also knew how to make an entrance.
“I can wear black, too… you envious witches,” she mused.
An outfit immediately took shape in her mind—dark, elegant, and commanding. Something that would let her stride through the Wicca Room with her head held high, refusing to shrink beneath anyone’s gaze.
The idea steadied her.
Jessica closed the closet door, shutting out the shadows and the eerie glow of the golden apple.
She returned to her workstation and decided to complete one more design before stopping for the night.
Reaching for the CD player, she turned up the volume.
The electronic pulse of OMD’s “Enola Gay” filled the room, sweeping away the silence. Its upbeat rhythm carried an undercurrent of melancholy, mirroring the conflict stirring within her.
Jessica picked up her pencil.
Tomorrow would bring Katica, the Wicca Room, and whatever truths lay beyond them.
But tonight belonged to her work.
She bent over the page, letting the music guide her hand. Line by line, the unfinished design began to take shape.
The song’s energy steadied her thoughts, turning the fear that had threatened to overwhelm her into something sharper.
Resolve.
By the time the final notes faded, Jessica added the final stroke and leaned back to examine the drawing.
A quiet sense of accomplishment settled over her.
The shadows had not vanished.
Neither had Baba Yaga’s warning.
But Jessica allowed herself a brief smile.
Whatever tomorrow held for her, she would not face it trembling.
She was stronger than the shadows seeking to claim her.
Jessica’s night had been restless, her thoughts tangled with unease about what Azure and Xavier might face in Ireland. She trusted her husband’s ability to handle himself, but the constant travel on his uncle’s behalf was beginning to wear him down.
She noticed the changes each time he returned home—the exhaustion in his eyes, the quiet distance that settled over him, and the hours he spent alone in his office.
Azure said he needed time to decompress.
Jessica knew better.
Through the closed door, she often heard the rustle of pages and the scratch of a pencil as he prepared for the next mission. Even at home, he could never fully escape the shadow of his responsibilities.
As she sipped her morning coffee, Jessica longed for the rich, comforting taste of café con leche from the bodega in her old neighborhood. The instant coffee in her hand was a poor substitute, a bitter reminder of how much her life had changed.
It was only nine in the morning, but the idea of traveling to Queens for a proper cup of coffee took hold quickly.
Jessica picked up the phone and called downstairs, hoping Mārtiņš would indulge her whim.
His enthusiastic reply made her smile.
He would be delighted to drive her.
Excitement pushed aside the morning’s unease as Jessica hurried into the bedroom and pulled clothes from the closet. One outfit after another landed on the bed as she considered what to wear.
Her choice of outfit grounded her. It was a familiar, manageable task—something she could control despite other things she couldn't.
A short while later, Jessica emerged from the apartment wearing jeans and an airy lavender blouse, fastening the top button as the door shut behind her.
Mārtiņš, impeccably dressed and professional as always, waited beside the Rolls-Royce Phantom VI limousine. He tipped his hat as she approached, his amber eyes catching the morning light.
“Thank you so much for this,” Jessica said, settling into the backseat.
“No trouble at all, Mistress Creed,” Mārtiņš replied warmly, his Latvian accent lending his words a subtle, melodic edge. “Master Creed mentioned you might need my services today.”
“Did he now?”
A faint smile tugged at Jessica’s lips as she reapplied her lipstick, watching Mārtiņš in the reflection of her compact mirror.
“Do you remember the bodega in my old neighborhood?” she asked, snapping the compact shut.
Mārtiņš nodded, then guided the limousine smoothly into traffic.
“Traffic is light today,” he said as they headed toward the 59th Street Bridge.
“Good to hear.”
Jessica slipped the lipstick and compact into her purse. She was about to ask him to turn on the radio when, as if reading her mind, Mārtiņš adjusted the volume.
The familiar opening to The Cure’s “Friday I’m in Love” filled the car.
Jessica leaned back in the seat.
As they moved through the sunlit streets, the music filling the cabin of the luxury vehicle eased the tension that had been building in her shoulders from staying in her empty apartment. Familiar landmarks slipped by the window, and when the bodega finally came into view, a soft smile spread across her face.
Mārtiņš pulled the limousine up to the curb.
“Jessica, mi amor, ¡qué hermosa te ves!”
Marco Martinez’s rich Cuban accent rang out from behind the counter the moment Jessica stepped into the bustling bodega.
The warm sweetness of freshly baked guava pastries mingled with the strong aroma of Cuban coffee, filling the air with memories.
“Jessica!”
Yesenia’s eyes lit up behind the register. She stepped away briefly to greet her.
“It’s been so long! How are you?”
“I’m good,” Jessica said, smiling. “Wow, Yesenia, how’s college?”
Yesenia beamed with pride.
“I graduated last year. It feels strange not being in school anymore, but it’s nice to have more time to help here.”
She gestured toward the register and the coffee station, then glanced at Jessica’s outfit.
“Are you still working on your fashion designs?”
The question affected Jessica more deeply than she expected.
“I’m trying to keep up with them. My husband has strongly supported my career. I’m currently attending LIM and have been busy building my fashion portfolio.”
She glanced around the bodega.
“I needed a break this morning, so I thought I’d come back to the old neighborhood. I’ve missed it.”
Yesenia’s eyes widened.
“Wait. LIM College? That’s huge! I had no idea you were attending there.”
Then the rest of Jessica’s words caught up with her.
“And your husband? You’re married?”
A laugh escaped her as she playfully tapped Jessica on the arm.
“When did that happen? I can’t believe I missed so much while I was away at school.”
Jessica blushed and raised her hand to show the ring.
“It happened a few months ago. I suppose I’ve been caught up in everything since.”
“That’s amazing. The school, the marriage—all of it.” Yesenia leaned in, openly curious. “So, how is married life?”
Before Jessica could answer, Marco’s voice drew her further into the room.
The clink of cups and plates blended with the hum of conversations in Spanish and English, creating a familiar melody she had not realized she had missed.
“Daniela!” Marco called. “Come see how beautiful our Jessica has grown.”
His eyes twinkled as he maneuvered around the glass counter, lined with rows of colorful cakes and pastries.
When he reached Jessica, he pulled her into a firm, fatherly hug.
She felt the scratch of his stubble against her cheek and smelled Old Spice, flour, and coffee clinging to his clothes.
“Yesenia, give Jessica a coffee, por favor,” Marco said, nodding toward his daughter.
Then his expression softened.
“We haven’t seen you in so long, not since you moved away.”
His embrace tightened for a moment, then he released her.
Jessica’s cheeks warmed under the curious stares of the customers waiting behind her.
Daniela emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
Her face lit up the moment she saw Jessica.
“¿Dónde has estado? ¿Cómo has estado?”
She draped a towel over one shoulder and took Jessica’s hand in her flour-dusted fingers. The warmth of the gesture gave Jessica an unexpected sense of comfort.
“¡Mira, ahora es una mujer casada!” Daniela exclaimed, raising Jessica’s hand to admire the wedding ring.
Her eyes misted as she looked at her.
“How long you marry?” she asked in broken English.
Jessica lifted four fingers.
She searched briefly for the Spanish word, then gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
“Four months.”
Marco smiled and translated.
“Cuatro meses.”
A mischievous glimmer sparkled in Daniela’s eyes.
She pointed toward Jessica’s stomach.
The unspoken question was clear.
Jessica’s face flushed crimson.
“No, no,” she stammered, shaking her head so quickly that her blond hair swayed around her face.
Behind the counter, Yesenia caught the exchange and flashed Jessica a knowing grin before turning to the next customer.
Marco chuckled, gently encouraging his wife back toward the kitchen.
Daniela waved her towel at the growing line and scolded him in rapid-fire Spanish to return to work.
“What would you like?” Yesenia asked, already reaching for a cup. “¿Café con leche?”
Jessica’s face brightened.
“Yes, please.”
Yesenia moved swiftly behind the counter. The steady sound of pouring coffee soothed Jessica with its simplicity.
She reached next for a tray of pastries. Wax paper crinkled as she wrapped a golden, flaky pastry filled with sweet guava filling.
“¿Un pastelito?” she offered, setting it on the counter.
The fruity scent mingled with the aroma of coffee.
Jessica’s eyes lit up.
“Could I please have four more, and another coffee?”
“Of course.”
Yesenia grabbed a pastry box and carefully arranged four more inside. She filled a second cup, with steam curling from its lid as she set it beside the box.
Jessica reached into her purse for her wallet.
Marco shook his head.
“Jovencita, ustedes son de la familia,” he said firmly, as he slid the box and the extra coffee toward her.
Jessica paused, letting the cup's warmth seep through the thin paper sleeve.
“Thank you so much, Marco. I’m going to enjoy my coffee outside. I’ll come back for the pastries.”
“Yesenia will keep them safe for you,” Marco said, glancing at his daughter.
“They’ll be right here,” Yesenia promised, lifting the box and carrying it behind the counter.
Jessica smiled and stepped toward the door, the bodega's familiar warmth trailing her into the morning.
As Jessica stepped out of the bodega, the warm, fragrant air gave way to a cool breeze. She spotted a small plastic table and two chairs by the entrance and motioned for Mārtiņš to join her.
The faint smell of exhaust and the distant clamor of the city contrasted sharply with the cozy atmosphere she had left behind.
Mārtiņš hesitated. His amber eyes darted toward the sleek Rolls-Royce parked at the curb before he removed his chauffeur’s cap and approached her with nervous anticipation.
“Thank you, Mistress Creed,” he said softly, lowering himself into the chair across from her.
His Latvian accent gave the words a respectful warmth. The plastic creaked under his weight, and he fidgeted with his cap, repeatedly smoothing its brim between his hands.
He appreciated the gesture more than Jessica realized. Being treated as little more than a servant was customary for him, so such kindness was rare.
“Please call me Jessica,” she replied.
She raised the cup to her lips and took her first sip. The rich, comforting flavor of the café con leche spread across her tongue, instantly reminding her why she had traveled all the way to Queens.
“You’re about to enjoy the best coffee in the neighborhood,” she assured him.
Several customers leaving the bodega cast lingering looks in their direction. Their displeasure carried in murmurs, quiet enough to stay indistinct yet loud enough to understand.
Mārtiņš noticed them immediately.
“Is there a problem, Mistress…” He paused, then corrected himself. “Jessica?”
His gaze shifted toward the women standing nearby, his discomfort evident.
Jessica followed their attention and dismissed them with a small wave of her hand.
“It’s nothing. The locals don’t like the special treatment I receive here.”
“Ah,” Mārtiņš murmured, beginning to understand.
He lifted the coffee to his mouth.
Then something caught his heightened senses.
A disheveled man staggered out of the alley beside the bodega.
Crickets clung to his filthy clothing. His face was grimy, his hair matted, and his unfocused eyes stared at some unseen horror. The sharp odor of alcohol reached Mārtiņš first, cutting through the buttery sweetness of Jessica’s pastry.
Beneath it, another scent lingered.
Faint, rancid, and unmistakable.
Death.
Mārtiņš’s stomach tightened.
His hand curled around the coffee cup. Beneath the table, his fingernails lengthened into sharp points as he fixed his gaze on the approaching stranger.
Jessica remained unaware. She tore off a piece of her pastry and watched the sweet guava filling ooze from its flaky crust.
The man saw her.
He stopped abruptly, shaking his head, his movements erratic, as though trying to dislodge something trapped inside his head. His tired eyes settled on Jessica, and confusion twisted his features.
Then came recognition.
He stumbled toward her.
Mārtiņš rose at breakneck speed, his chair scraping sharply across the pavement. His tall frame slipped between Jessica and the stranger, casting a long shadow across the table.
“Move along,” he instructed.
His voice remained calm, yet it carried enough authority to leave little room for argument.
The man answered in a low, guttural growl.
Then, just as suddenly, he began to cry.
The reek of alcohol intensified as he lurched closer. Not wanting to cause a scene, Mārtiņš placed one hand against the man’s chest and tried to guide him back toward the alley.
Another growl ripped from the stranger’s throat.
His face contorted as if he were fighting to regain control of his body. His limbs jerked against Mārtiņš’s restraint.
“Jess,” the man cried, the name slurred and thick with anguish. “Jess…sica, I’ve missed you… I need you.”
He trembled violently as Mārtiņš blocked his path.
Jessica froze.
The voice sliced through her memories like a jagged blade.
Her fingers began to tremble. The coffee cup, comforting just moments earlier, became slick and unstable in her grasp.
Slowly, she turned.
The world seemed to lose momentum around her. Traffic noise, conversations outside the bodega, and distant city sounds faded beneath the pounding of her heart.
She watched Mārtiņš struggle against the man.
Tears blurred her vision as recognition crashed over her like an icy wave.
“Dad…?”
The word barely left her lips.
The man’s ruined face swam before her, distorted by tears yet still horribly familiar.
Her world tilted.
The ground seemed to fall away beneath her as her knees buckled. The coffee slipped from her hand, hitting the pavement and spilling across the concrete.
Jessica collapsed.
A sharp burst of pain exploded through the back of her skull as her head slammed into the unforgiving ground. The impact sent her spiraling toward darkness.
The grit of the pavement scraped her skin, and cold seeped through her clothes, but both sensations quickly faded. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy and uncooperative, as distorted voices reached her as if traveling through a long tunnel.
“You can’t keep her from me…”
The final guttural growl echoed through the haze.
Mārtiņš’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.
“Megumi… Himari… take care of this devil while I secure Mistress Jessica.”
The words barely registered before Jessica felt herself lifted off the pavement.
Mārtiņš effortlessly gathered her limp body into his arms, his supernatural strength making her seem weightless. The rough fabric of his uniform brushed her cheek as he carried her toward the limousine.
It was the last sensation she felt before surrendering completely to the inky blackness.
A man’s voice cut through the darkness—harsh, familiar, and laced with accusation.
“Why do you always have to give me a hard time?!”
Another voice answered. Female. Exhausted. Equally familiar.
“You never think of your family first!”
“Everything I do is for you and our Jessica!”
“Sure…drinking your day away is all for Jess!”
“You don’t know what I do…”
“Just you wait and see…I won’t be here…and then what?!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
The voices circled each other in the dark, each word carrying the sting of an old wound. The argument felt close enough to touch, yet as distant as memory.
Then both voices vanished.
Silence rushed in behind them.
Jessica’s eyes fluttered open.
Her breath caught as the dim light of the bedroom pushed back the remnants of a memory—one she had hoped would never return.
She blinked several times, disoriented, until the warmth beneath her and the familiar shapes around her slowly came into focus.
Her bed.
Her bedroom.
Home.
Safe.
Jessica pushed herself upright. The room tilted, forcing her to brace one hand against the mattress until the dizziness passed. She reached toward the dull ache pulsing at the back of her head and found bandages beneath her fingers.
“What the heck happened?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleepiness.
A soft knock came at the bedroom door.
Jessica flinched.
The door creaked open, and Mārtiņš stepped inside. Concern shadowed his expression, but relief softened it when he saw her sitting upright.
“You had a bad fall at the bodega,” he explained softly.
“I did?”
Jessica frowned, searching the hazy edges of her memory.
Coffee.
The table outside.
A man’s voice.
Then nothing.
The harder she tried to grasp the fragments, the farther they seemed to recede.
Mārtiņš remained near the doorway, with one hand resting against the frame.
“Is it all right if I come in? I brought you something.”
Jessica nodded, her curiosity piqued.
A small smile appeared on his face as he raised the familiar box of pastries.
“I thought you might be upset if these did not make it home with you.”
The sweet scent of guava drifted toward her, bringing unexpected comfort.
“You’re my hero, Mārtiņš.”
Her gratitude was genuine as she accepted the box.
Then she noticed the clock on the nightstand.
It was already past four p.m.
“Oh no. I still have to get ready.”
Jessica pushed the blankets aside and eased her legs over the edge of the bed. A dull throb spread from the back of her head as she moved, and pain tightened along her side.
She winced.
“Could you put these in the kitchen for me?” she asked, handing him the pastries. “I’ll be ready for my dinner engagement in an hour.”
Mārtiņš took the box but didn't move right away.
His amber eyes lingered on her, as though he wished to protest.
Instead, he nodded.
“As you wish.”
He cast one final concerned glance at her before leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind him.
Jessica rose carefully.
She ambled toward the closet, one hand pressed to the back of her head. Her back and side ached in sympathy with each step.
“You really did a number on yourself,” she muttered.
The black dress she had chosen for dinner was waiting inside.
Jessica lifted it from the closet and held it against her body as she studied her reflection. The dark fabric gave her pale features a sharper elegance.
A small, amused laugh slipped out of her.
“I think I have the perfect dark red lipstick for this.”
A hint of defiance crept into her voice.
“Those witches won’t have a single thing to criticize about tonight.”
She laid the dress carefully on the bed and began to undress.
“Before I forget…”
Jessica crossed to her jewelry box.
As she lifted the lid, her fingers instinctively brushed against the bare skin at her throat.
She froze.
Her necklace was missing.
No—not missing.
She had forgotten to put it on when she left for coffee that morning.
Goosebumps prickled along her arms.
Azure’s warning returned with sudden clarity.
Never leave the house without your necklace.
He had repeated the instruction often enough for her to hear the severity in his voice. As a Creed, he had explained, she was vulnerable to forces that might otherwise overlook an ordinary mortal.
The necklace will protect you.
Jessica glanced toward the bedroom door.
A strange unease settled into her stomach.
She had left the apartment without it.
Then she had fallen.
She hesitated only briefly before taking the necklace from the jewelry box and fastening it around her neck.
Its familiar weight settled against her skin.
Warmth followed—a subtle comfort she had not realized she needed.
She was about to shower, but taking it off again felt foolish, especially since she would soon be entering the Wicca Room alone.
Better safe than sorry.
Jessica touched the pendant once to make sure it was secure, then headed toward the bathroom.
Jessica Creed had been standing outside the Wicca Room for twenty minutes, her pulse quickening with every passing moment.
She adjusted her skintight black dress and smoothed away wrinkles that did not exist, treating the fabric like armor that had to be perfected before battle. A glance in her compact mirror reassured her. Her makeup was flawless, and her slicked-back hair gleamed like strands of gold in the dim hallway light.
The look was intentional.
She had modeled it after the enigmatic woman she had glimpsed on her first visit.
Drawing a deep breath, Jessica squared her shoulders and pushed open the door. Her confidence wavered as she braced herself for the stares of the witches gathered beyond it.
The heavy door creaked open.
Silence greeted her.
Jessica paused at the threshold.
The lounge was empty.
Instead of the noisy crowd she had expected, only a single table filled the center of the room. A soft light bathed the space, illuminating Katica, the Azovka Elder, who sat alone, waiting.
Her emerald sarafan shimmered in the low light, its traditional design reflecting her homeland's customs. Her hair remained intricately braided, though she wore no kichka bonnet tonight. Without it, her youthful, delicate beauty seemed even more striking.
Katica noticed Jessica’s cautious entrance and smiled.
With a gentle wave, she motioned her inside.
“I thought it would be best to reserve the lounge for privacy,” she said, her Hungarian accent lending her words a melodic warmth.
She rose gracefully from her chair.
Her presence was calming, though the aura of power around her remained unmistakable.
Katica stepped forward and lightly embraced Jessica. The subtle scents of citrus and gardenia surrounded her, and the warmth of the Elder’s touch offered an immediate sense of comfort.
“Please, sit. I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m so glad you could meet me tonight,” Jessica said, lowering herself into the chair.
Weariness entered her voice, as though the embrace had brought to the surface emotions she had been struggling to contain.
“I’ve been feeling so alone lately. With all Azure’s trips, I’m left in that apartment, just…”
Her words faded.
“Alone.”
A breathy sigh slipped out of her.
Katica’s eyes softened. She reached across the table and gently enclosed Jessica’s trembling hands in her own.
“I miss her, you know?” Jessica whispered.
Her composure began to slip.
The moment their hands touched, fragments of Jessica’s grief passed into Katica.
An image appeared in the Elder’s mind.
A young woman.
Hope George.
Jessica’s dearest friend, taken too soon, leaving a wound that had never fully healed.
Katica prepared to let go.
Then she sensed something else.
A hidden presence, buried beneath the grief.
Something feeding on it.
Baba Yaga’s malevolent magick had taken root in Jessica, twisting her sorrow and loneliness into something far darker.
Katica slowly slid her hands away, letting her touch linger just long enough to convey understanding without revealing what she had seen.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” she said softly, her voice carrying the quiet wisdom of someone who had endured more grief than most could imagine. “I know how difficult it must be to carry dis weight, especially ven you feel so alone.”
Tears welled in Jessica’s eyes.
The defenses she had held for so long began to crack.
“Hope was my best friend,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
She had not allowed herself to speak openly about the loss. Jessica had been too busy staying strong for Xavier, Hope’s grieving husband.
But here, in the privacy of the empty lounge and beneath Katica’s steady gaze, the mask began to crumble.
“Since Xavier returned from his last trip, he hasn’t mentioned her name.”
Jessica stared down at the table.
“It’s like… he’s completely over her.”
Her voice fractured.
“Who does that so quickly?”
The question escaped as a sob.
Raw grief filled the lounge, echoing off the walls as though demanding an answer from the universe itself.
Katica moved her chair closer until no space remained between them. She drew Jessica into a comforting embrace, her warmth grounding Jessica amid the storm of doubt and sorrow.
These tears were necessary.
A release long overdue.
But beneath them, Katica still felt Baba Yaga’s presence clinging to Jessica’s mind, deepening each wound and turning grief into despair.
It had to be removed.
Katica pressed two fingers to Jessica’s forehead.
Her touch was cool against the feverish anguish that consumed her.
With serene yet unwavering resolve, Katica whispered soothing words, her voice weaving tranquility through the chaos of Jessica’s emotions.
Slowly, she began to draw the darkness out.
The crushing melancholy released its grip.
The despair receded.
From the depths of Jessica’s mind, Katica extracted a narrow black sliver nearly three inches long. It pulsed with concentrated malevolence between Katica’s fingers.
She closed her hand around it.
A faint, agonized scream came from within her grasp—the final protest of the parasite Baba Yaga had planted.
Katica clenched her fist until the sound vanished.
Jessica drew a trembling breath.
The tension within her began to ease.
“Thank you for this,” she murmured.
Her voice remained shaky, but something lighter had crept into it.
Hope. Her friend’s smile and warm hugs. Comforting memories.
She wiped away the tears from her cheeks and managed a small, grateful smile.
“I hate to burden you with my problems.”
Jessica blinked rapidly, clearing the last of her tears, then let out a long sigh. The sound carried the weight of something finally leaving her chest.
She remained unaware of the magick Katica had used.
“I needed that.”
Katica watched her with a gentle smile.
“You are never a burden, Jessica,” she said with genuine affection. “Dat is vat friends are for—to be dere for you ven you need dem most.”
As Katica returned her chair to its original position, an idea began to take shape.
Something that might lift Jessica’s spirits further.
And perhaps offer her protection from another attack by the crone.
Katica leaned forward, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice.
“How vould you feel about a little adventure before dinner? I know a place—a special one—dat might offer the distraction you need. Something positive to help clear your mind a bit more.”
Jessica’s eyes widened.
For the first time that evening, grief finally released its hold, replaced by curiosity and renewed energy.
“Are you kidding?”
She rose from her chair, brightness returning to her face.
The thought of traveling anywhere with Katica filled her with anticipation.
“I’d love to go with you.”
Katica smiled, pleased to see the light return to Jessica’s eyes.
She stood with graceful assurance and extended her hand.
“Den let us go. Trust me; you vill love it.”
Jessica accepted her hand.
Before they left, she opened her compact and touched up her makeup. For the first time since her wedding day, she was not merely going through the motions of her life.
She was present.
Her friend's company and the promise of something new lifted her spirits.
“Is it far to where we’re going?” Jessica asked.
Katica held her hand like a sister, her touch warm and reassuring as they crossed the lounge.
Together, they approached the grand emerald-colored door.
As they drew closer, Jessica glanced around.
The doorway stood unguarded.
“Where is Gargroll?” she asked, surprise creeping into her voice.
Katica did not answer.
Her serene expression remained fixed on the emerald door ahead.
She was not ignoring Jessica.
She had no idea who Gargroll was.
They passed through the emerald door and entered a corridor that curved sharply left.
The walls soon gave way to tall, ancient trees whose intertwined branches formed a living tunnel overhead. Cool, fresh air drifted through the passage, carrying the scent of damp earth and moss. The path inclined gently to the right, leading them up a gradual slope to a striking red door.
Its surface was smooth and unmarked, except for a single shimmering rune at its center.
Katica stopped.
She turned to Jessica, her expression gentle yet solemn.
“Vhere ve are about to venture is a sacred place,” she said softly, reverence filling her voice. “Nothing vill harm you here. Dis is a realm of light, vhere only beauty and vonder dwell.”
Katica pressed one hand to the door.
It opened without a sound.
Jessica’s breath stilled as the world beyond unfolded before her.
They stepped into a realm more dream than reality—a fairy-tale world woven of living magick.
The sky hung suspended in perpetual twilight, painted in shades of lavender and rose. Stars flickered overhead like distant diamonds. The air hummed with the rapid flutter of tiny wings, and as Jessica’s eyes adjusted to the strange light, she realized hundreds of pixies and fairies surrounded them.
Each glowed with an inner light.
They danced through the air, leaving trails of sparkling dust in their wake. The glitter lingered behind them like drifting constellations.
Beneath Jessica’s feet lay the most vibrant emerald grass she had ever seen. It was so soft that each step felt weightless.
Flowers bloomed in every imaginable color, their petals shimmering as if brushed with gold. Some towered above them, forming natural canopies, while others clustered near the ground in intricate patterns.
Silver-barked trees lined the path. Their luminous leaves cast a gentle glow across the landscape, and their curling roots formed elegant arches and hidden alcoves.
Sprites and wood nymphs peeked from behind them, watching the newcomers with open curiosity.
The trees themselves seemed aware of their arrival. Their branches swayed despite the still air, bending toward Jessica in silent greeting.
A distant melody drifted through the realm.
It did not seem to come from any instrument. Instead, it rose from the earth, the trees, and the flowing water—a soothing, ancient lullaby that resonated deep within Jessica, quieting something inside her.
They followed the path deeper into the enchanted landscape.
Crystal-clear streams wound through the grass, feeding small waterfalls that spilled into transparent ponds. Ethereal fish glided beneath the surface, their bodies glowing like living jewels, while water sprites leaped between the ripples, scattering light into shifting rainbows.
Luminescent mushrooms gathered beneath the trees. Small purple orbs hovered above the path ahead, fluttering forward whenever Jessica and Katica drew near, as if guiding them deeper into the realm of fae.
Wherever Jessica looked, something new demanded her attention.
Katica watched her with a knowing smile, pleased by the awe spreading across her face.
“Dis place is much like my homeland, Lukomorye,” she said softly. “It is a sanctuary vhere the light of the vorld gathers to create something pure and beautiful.”
She turned toward Jessica.
“Here, you can find peace. Here, you can heal.”
Jessica struggled to speak.
“It’s…” She looked around slowly. “It’s like stepping into a dream.”
Katica nodded, understanding gleaming in her eyes as she guided Jessica along the luminous path.
“In dreams, Jessica, anything is possible.”
As they continued, relief began to settle on Jessica.
The air itself seemed to lift the weight of her grief and worries. The energy around her was bright and cleansing, washing through the places where fear and loneliness had taken root.
For the first time in what felt like months, Jessica allowed herself to be.
She did not think of Baba Yaga.
She did not think about Ireland, Azure’s absence, or her father’s voice outside the bodega.
She surrendered to the beauty surrounding her.
“This is like heaven,” she whispered.
A delicate fairy fluttered by her ear.
Its wings shimmered like iridescent glass.
“Elfhame,” it whispered in a tiny, melodic voice.
Jessica turned quickly.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
The fairy had already darted off.
Before Jessica could coax it back, several others appeared and began circling her in a playful spiral. Their high voices repeated the same word.
“Elfhame.”
“Elfhame.”
“Elfhame.”
Each repetition ended with bursts of musical laughter.
Katica smiled as she watched them.
“Ze fae are correcting you,” she explained. “You called dis place heaven. It is Elfhame, not heaven.”
Jessica stared at the fairies, her wonder deepening.
This place had a name.
A history.
An identity beyond anything she could understand.
Before she could ask another question, Katica glanced down.
A small male fairy landed near her feet and urgently tugged at the hem of her sarafan.
His tiny wings beat rapidly as he motioned for her to lean in.
Katica knelt and leaned in.
The fairy whispered quickly, his voice so faint that Jessica caught only fragments.
Katica’s smile vanished.
“Oh no.”
Her expression grew severe.
“Yes, I agree. But is dat not dangerous?”
The fairy continued, gesturing as he spoke. Katica listened in silence, a faint crease forming between her brows.
When he finished, she carefully lowered him to the ground.
“Be careful,” she warned.
The fairy nodded, then shot into the air, disappearing among the glowing trees.
Jessica immediately felt the shift in Katica.
The warmth around them remained, but something had changed.
“What happened?” she asked.
Katica looked up, her expression caught between worry and resolve.
“One of deir family members has gone missing,” she said. “Dey have organized a group of thirty fairies to enter your vorld and search for her.”
“My world?”
Jessica frowned, trying to make sense of it.
Katica explained that magickal creatures lived in both realms, though travel through the mortal world had grown increasingly dangerous for the fae.
“What was the fairy’s name?” Jessica asked, her concern mounting.
“Suadela,” Katica replied, her voice heavy with unease. “She has a habit of venturing into the mortal vorld for tobacco. It is a dangerous vice for one of her kind.”
“How long has she been missing?”
Katica hesitated.
“Since 1987.”
Jessica stared at her.
The answer settled heavily between them.
“I hope they find her,” she said sincerely.
The thought of a fairy lost in the mortal world, exposed to dangers she could scarcely imagine, stirred a protective instinct within her.
Katica laid a reassuring hand on Jessica’s arm.
“Dey are resourceful and determined. If anyone can find her, it is dem.”
They continued through Elfhame.
With each step, Jessica felt her connection to the enchanted realm deepen. Its beauty was undeniable, but beneath it lay something more—something ancient and welcoming.
The air shimmered with primeval magick. Silver leaves whispered overhead, luminous flowers turned toward her as she passed, and the glowing path unfurled beneath her feet.
Elfhame did not feel foreign.
It felt strangely familiar.
As though it had been waiting for her.
“I brought you here because of your nightmares,” Katica said in a soft voice.
Jessica turned toward her.
“I have sensed Baba Yaga’s presence in your dreams. Her dark magick has been probing your mind.”
Katica’s voice remained gentle, though strength underpinned every word.
“Time away from de mortal vorld vill weaken her hold. At least for now.”
Jessica nodded and looked toward the silver-lit treetops.
The peace of Elfhame soothed something deep within her. It felt as if the fear and anxiety she had carried for months were being stripped away, layer by layer.
“How do you feel here?” Katica asked.
Her eyes searched Jessica’s face for more than an answer. She was looking for change—for any sign that Elfhame had reached the wounded places within her.
Jessica considered the question.
“Famished,” she said at last, a slight smile forming.
Katica laughed softly.
Though Jessica’s answer was playful, something brighter had lit her eyes.
Clarity, perhaps.
Or the beginning of it.
“I think it’s time we headed to dinner,” Jessica added.
They turned toward the shimmering red door that led back to the Wicca Room.
Yet as they walked, an unspoken question trailed them.
Would this brief escape truly protect Jessica from Baba Yaga’s designs?
The uncertainty hung between them like a storm gathering beyond the horizon.
Katica tightened her grip on Jessica’s hand as they passed through the red door and returned to the living corridor.
Her expression turned thoughtful.
She could not allow Jessica to face the danger alone, not while Azure remained far away, preoccupied with his uncle’s demands.
Katica’s place in Jessica’s life could no longer be temporary.
She would need to become an anchor.
A guardian.
“I know dis may be forward of me…”
Katica hesitated, an uncertainty unusual for the Azovka Elder.
“Vould you like to join me for dinner tomorrow night as vell?”
Jessica glanced at her.
Katica continued before Jessica could respond.
“I vould not feel right leaving you alone. Not vith Baba Yaga still circling.”
Jessica paused.
Her heart lifted in a way she had not anticipated.
It was a simple invitation.
“We haven’t even had dinner tonight,” she teased, her smile widening. “But I don’t see why not.”
Delight brightened Katica’s eyes.
Together, they passed through the emerald door, leaving Elfhame behind them.
For the first time in months, the familiar ache of Jessica’s isolation began to ease.
Something new took its place.
Hope.
The word stirred the memory of her lost friend.
Hope George had once been Jessica’s anchor through doubt and pain. Her death had left a wound that never seemed to close, no matter how much time passed.
Jessica will always miss her.
But now, as the old ache surfaced, it mingled with something gentler. It felt as if the world—or perhaps Elfhame itself—were offering her a sign.
For a fleeting moment, Jessica could almost hear Hope’s laughter in the whisper of leaves behind them.
A reminder that love did not vanish just because someone was gone.
Neither did friendship.
Jessica smiled softly.
Katica’s hand stayed wrapped around hers, warm and steady.
Perhaps this was the beginning.
A chance to bring light back into her life.
A chance to trust.
Hope.
The word was no longer only a name.
It was a promise.