“Pétur, it’s time to wake up,” hollered Marika from downstairs.

Within a few minutes, Pétur found his way downstairs and to breakfast. As he ate, his mind thought about the insane day yesterday, questioning whether it had happened. After some time, Pétur found the courage to ask his mother about his father’s heritage as a test. He stopped eating and looked into his mother’s eyes. “Mother, yesterday I was told some unusual things. Things about father and babka. I was wondering if you could tell me where father and Edda are from originally.”

Marika’s look changed from one of love to fear. “Your father and Edda were from a small fishing community on a remote island in the north somewhere. Pétur, you know this already, so why bring up the past?”

After yesterday, he could not avoid the topic any longer. “Was father and babka from Aeqor?” There was a passing quiet between them. Pétur broke the silence, asking, “Am I half Aeqori?”

Marika was stunned. She accidentally knocked over her own cup of water. While cleaning up the mess with a small towel, Marika inquired nervously, “Where did you hear that from, dear?”

Pétur, equally nervous, replied cautiously, “From a man who sells fish … at the um market. He said he knew father and you.”

Marika mumbled to herself in annoyance, “By all of Krása …” She sat up and smiled at Pétur, trying to hide her emotions. “Would that fisher be named Psarás by chance?”

Pétur blurted out in surprise, “How did you know?”

Marika sighed. “He did. Years ago, before you were born. And you are half Aeqori.”

Pétur was brimming with many questions, but he could tell that his mother was uncomfortable with the topic. He decided to tread carefully with his questions. “Why have I never heard of him until now?”

“That was my doing. Psarás was supposed to be your kum as he was your father’s best friend among the Aeqori.” Marika took a slow deep breath. “After I learned some disturbing things about him, I decided he should not be your godfather. He would have been a bad influence because Psarás is a petukh.”

Puzzled, Pétur questioned, “He’s a rooster?”

Marika smirked at her son’s innocence. “No, Pétur. Psarás does not love women. He loves other men or, in this case, your father.”

Pétur’s eyes bulged in shock. “Wait! What? Men can love men? How does that even work?”

Marika shook her head sideways. “No idea, and we shouldn’t wonder about such things. Your father loved me, and I could tell that Psarás loved him. I chased him off because he made me uncomfortable. Aeqori culture has different kinds of love that make no sense. Those kinds of love are forbidden in Monsan culture. Vadim is our god and only permits the love between a man and a woman.”

As if torches were lit in Pétur’s mind, he understood almost everything from his past. “That’s why you never told me. Either of you. You both were afraid that the Monsans wouldn’t understand Aeqori ideas and customs. It even explains why you fight with babka so much!”

Marika laughed and smiled. “I fight with Edda because she is as stubborn as the mountain and persistent as a wolf. She really wanted you to know, but Rybak and I made our wishes known. I suppose she must have arranged this little meeting. So for my sake, please let this go. You are Monsan. Today you will make your vow to Vadim, and he will wipe clean this Aeqori nonsense once and for all.”

Pétur took the hint finishing his breakfast in silence. He realized that everything up until he walked home was not a dream. Pétur even settled that Edda’s talk of spirits and magic was clearly just the ramblings of traditions not unlike the Monsan religion. Pétur decided that all parts afterward were just crazy dreams caused by the full moon. He concluded the events in the church with Sileny were too fantastic to be reality. Pétur was at ease once more, giving no other thoughts to it.

***

Several nervous young people were lined up in front of the altar facing their families in the audience. All were dressed in their best clothes, except for Pétur, who wore the only day clothes he owned. Standing with the others, he noticed his mother and grandmother were quietly bickering again. Pétur hoped he was not the cause of their fighting but knew better. Despite this, Wilk was happily sitting in Marika’s lap, overstimulated by the goings on in the church. His eyes met Pétur’s, causing him to leap to the floor. Pétur smiled as his mother reached down to pick him up again. She waved to her son, causing a wave of embarrassment within him. He turned around, pretending to not notice her, and instead saw hundreds of rože decorating the altar up to the ceiling. On the central part of the table sat a large bronze zdela filled with fresh jabłka fruit. There were various religious artifacts present as well.

Moments later, Kaplan Rufa arrived in his best black mantija. The buttons on the front of his robe were made from solid gold. He raised his hands toward the audience, causing them to stop talking. Turning around, Kaplan Rufa walked past the youths picking up his fastsiya. He placed the large white sash on his neck, hanging down like an untied scarf. Vadim’s sigil was embroidered at the bottom of each side. Kaplan Rufa closed his eyes, praying aloud in some ancient tongue. He gestured to the fruit and the flowers before picking up a pitcher of rainwater. The kaplan held it skywards, capturing some of the sun’s natural light. He then plucked several petals from a red rože directly behind the altar. Finally, Kaplan Rufa turned around and addressed the audience.

“By the sun’s heat are the clouds freed from the vile sea. By the union of the sun and clouds is birthed the rain. By the sun’s light and the rain’s purity does the jabłka grow and rože blossom. By these two gifts do we become one with our Lord Vadim.”

The kaplan mixed the petals from his hand into the pitcher. He swirled the water around, causing the water to turn red. Kaplan Rufa quickly poured the liquid into a golden chalice encrusted with rubies and pearls that decorated the altar. He returned the pitcher to the table. The kaplan lifted the chalice up for the audience to see.

“As our children eat of Vadim’s fruit and drink his flower, so shall their eyes be changed as a sign. As our ancestors before us, you may know his followers, for their eyes are the color of the sun. Come each of you. Bite into the bitter jabłka and drink in the sweetness of the rože. In this shall you be made one with our Lord.”

Each youth slowly stepped up one at a time, following the kaplan’s directions. They took a bite from the fruit and swallowed it down. They sipped from the chalice smiling afterward. Within moments like a fog clearing, their eyes transformed, matching the adults in the room. After each, the audience clapped, and the youth rejoined their family in the audience. This process continued for several minutes before reaching Pétur.

Pétur had a better view of everything from the end of the line. While waiting his turn, he looked around the room, taking in the space. He noticed that only his babka’s blue eyes stood out in a sea of yellow eyes. She sat there smiling along with his mother. He kept scanning the audience but could not see Sileny there. Pétur was confused because Sileny lived in the church, and surely, she would be here for this. He looked back as he was moving closer to Kaplan Rufa. For a moment, Pétur could have sworn he saw the kaplan’s eyes fade to black. Suddenly and without provocation, he felt gnawing at his ankle. Pétur looked down, surprised by Wilk tugging at his pants. He knelt to greet the pup, then picked Wilk up into his arms. Wilk covered Pétur’s face in saliva before calming down. Not knowing what to do, he looked over at his mother. Marika began to rise when the kaplan gestured her to sit.

The last girl before Pétur joined her family as Kaplan Rufa began to speak. “Well, it seems we have one more this morning.”

Everyone chuckled. Kaplan Rufa sat the chalice down on the altar. He placed the last jabłka fruit on the table while pulling a small knife from his pocket. He sliced off a small portion of the fruit and fed it to Wilk. He then let the pup lap some rože water from the chalice. The audience surprisingly erupted in various sounds, some adorable while others felt mocking. Pétur smiled in good spirits playing along. He was no stranger to the meaner parts of the community. Pétur hoped that they would eventually tire of taunting him. He took a quick bite from the remaining fruit and sipped the water. Everyone clapped as he and Wilk turned to face the audience.

Pétur wondered if Wilk’s eyes would change as he suspected his were doing. In his mind, this was not any kind of magic or supernatural happening. It was natural. Pétur, having grown up around wolves, assumed that peoples’ eyes changed just like wolves. In his mind, this was a normal occurrence, possibly sped up by the red rože petals. Moments of silence passed when Pétur noticed no one was speaking. The church was filled with murmurs and small gasps. He looked down at Wilk, who appeared content.

Turning to the kaplan, Pétur asked, “What’s wrong?”

Kaplan Rufa was momentarily shocked as Pétur’s eyes had not become yellow as the others. Coming to his senses, he announced, “Vadim has rejected Pétur. He is unclean and must be cast into the sea!”

“No!” howled Marika as she stood. “Stop this madness, Rufa. He can try again until it works. Do it again, Pétur.” She noticed people were sliding away from her and Edda in the aisles.

Enraged, Kaplan Rufa yelled, “I am this church’s kaplan, and I will do my duty. Still yourself, or you will join your son!”

Wilk began whimpering as panic built up in Pétur. He looked at his mother in fear as she stared back, sharing his dread. He looked back at Kaplan Rufa, whose iris had blackened to the color of his pupil. Pétur’s heart started pounding faster as the tension in the room increased rapidly. It seemed as if everyone was frozen, not knowing what to do.

Marika quickly moved across the room towards Pétur and the kaplan. She focused on her son with terror in her watering eyes. “Pétur, run!”

Like lightning striking the ocean, there was an explosion in Pétur. With Wilk in his arms, he darted towards the main entrance on the opposite side of the altar.

Kaplan Rufa pointed toward the doors at the main entrance, “Block him from escaping. I command you!”

As if everyone was under a spell, the audience gathered at the main entrance preventing Pétur from escaping. Only Marika and Edda seemed unaffected by the kaplan’s words. He tried to maneuver past the mass several times unsuccessfully. Pétur’s mother intentionally stood between him and the kaplan, whose menacing presence radiated from his body. He noticed that Edda was still sitting, but her gaze was transfixed on the side. Pétur realized immediately that she was looking at the servant’s entrance. He ran for that door without issue while freeing one hand. As he flung the door open, he noticed a bucket that someone had carelessly left by the door. Pétur avoided it and made it outside of the church. He thought going home would not be safe, deciding to pass through the market instead. Pétur rationalized he could get to the deeper woods by that route. He started running with all his might holding onto Wilk for dear life.

Marika continued pleading for her son’s life while blocking the kaplan when Pétur had escaped. Eventually, the kaplan made his way past her, running towards the side door. Edda, at this exact moment, stood and calmly walked towards Kaplan Rufa. Running as fast as he could, his feet found the bucket sending him face-first into the dirt just outside the church. Moments later, Edda appeared, helping the kaplan to his feet.

“I see you found my bucket. Why thank you.” With that, Edda picked up the bucket and walked outside, looking for Pétur.

“He can’t have gone far,” roared Kaplan Rufa, scanning for Pétur’s whereabouts.

“Only so many places to go on an island. I doubt he would have gone home or to my house. Best try the market.” Edda concealed her smirk.

“Do you think me an idiot? No Monsan would set foot in the market on this sacred day!” The Kaplan pushed past her and reentered the church. He looked to his confused flock of followers. With a return of his blackened eyes and dark presence, he commanded, “Some of you search the boy’s home and Edda’s as well. I suspect he might try to hide there. The rest of you guard these two while I pray to our Lord.”

Marika and Edda were escorted back into their seats. Tears flowed nonstop from Marika’s eyes as she feared the worst. Edda put her hand on Marika, attempting to console her. To Edda’s surprise, Marika hugged her refusing to let go. Edda soothed Marika and whispered reassurances to her. 

***

Pétur found his way to the market, surprised at how empty it was. He moved quickly past empty stalls while trying to comfort a whimpering Wilk. Here and there, Pétur saw vendors prepping their products and filling orders, but no one minded the boy and his wolf. Within a few minutes, he saw the market’s far end and the forest’s beginning. Although he was slightly relieved, he hoped his family was safe and wondered where in Krása Sileny had gotten to. Pétur needed help, and she always knew what to do. He continued to move straight for the trees when he heard his name from behind him.

A familiar and jolly voice called out, “Pétur!”

Pétur spun around to realize he had walked right by Bydlę’s table. “Bydlę!”

“You taking the pup for a walk?” Bydlę smiled.

“No. I … I am in trouble, and the others will be looking for me. The kaplan said he wants to throw me into the sea.” Pétur continued to unburden himself for several minutes.

“Say no more. Edda is my dearest friend. If I cannot keep her grandson safe, then what good is my friendship.” Bydlę opened a large barrel from behind him. All sorts of strange and slightly foul smells came from it. He began unloading fermented cheese wheels that did not appeal to Pétur nor Wilk. Once empty, Bydlę helped Pétur and Wilk get into the barrel. He leaned over the top and whispered, “Don’t make a sound. Someone is coming. No matter what, you and that pup stay silent.” With that, Bydlę returned the lid to the barrel.

Pétur could barely see, but some light shone through the gaps. From what he could tell, the barrel was not built airtight but seemed intentionally designed to allow air to pass through. Pétur kept his mind busy to distract himself from the smell emanating from the wood. He kept Wilk close to him, attempting to minimize the odor from negatively affecting the pup. Pétur heard Bydlę’s voice sound off in hushed tones. He could not make out what was being discussed or with whom. Within a minute, the barrel was moving. Pétur focused on Wilk, trying to pacify him in silence. Wilk just stared back at Pétur, confused and scared. He understood how his wolf felt, but they would have to wait to see where Bydlę was taking them. For now, all they could do was just latch onto hope as quietly as possible.