"You betrayed the Lord!" – deacon accused Lybid.
She didn't reply. Her hands clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms until they bled. Then, with silent determination, she turned away and walked toward the misty path leading from the village to the river.
Alone.
Methodius's eyes followed her figure with a complicated look.
Back home Lybid hurriedly crouched in a praying position in front of the religious icon.
"Holy Spirit, God, Jesus... forgive my sins," she whispered, pressing her forehead against the floor. There was a pause.
"Forgive me for the things I'll do. Amen."
She reached up, eyes still shut, and pulled a piece of parchment from a nearby shelf. With delicate reverence, she draped it over the icon, hiding it from view. The moment the sacred image was concealed, the air shifted. The house felt colder.
Lybid stood and took a shovel.
When she read the ancient book that Kyi brought, Lybid finally realized that it wasn't that the village or forest itself was cursed, it was something inside. The story in the book described evil held inside the forest. Kyi misunderstood the meaning, not the people who came to this land broke the balance, the balance was broken long before it.
And Lybid had no choice, there was only one way for her.
At the backyard of her house there was a tree with a crescent moon encircled by jagged lines that looked like roots. Under the tree a bunch of daisies grew.
She plunged the shovel into the earth.
Before long, Lybid dug out a large hole until she reached something tough. It was an oak coffin with some holes. It was neither too large nor too small. Honestly, it looked like it was made of the roots, which naturally formed around deceased person to envelop and protect the body.
As she reached the coffin a rotten hand grabbed hers. Lybid didn't flinch, she calmly accepted earth's embrace and disappeared in the dark hole under the tree.
The air was not air.
The space beneath the tree was not space.
She drifted more than walked, descending through darkness veined with faint green light and threads of gold. Shadows whispered ancient names, forgotten words. Her ancestors waited.
Pale figures began to form around her—men and women with markings like hers, symbols of moons and roots burned into their skin. One stepped forward, a tall woman whose face was half bark, half bone.
They moved in a circle, arms weaving a tapestry of roots and wind, drawing power from the earth itself. Lybid closed her eyes and felt it pulse beneath her skin. The chants rose around her in Old Slavonic, surrounding her in a cradle of voices.
"Do you accept the path?" the first spirit asked. "Do you shed the light that burned your shadow?"
Lybid opened her eyes. "I do."
The forest sighed.
A warm light rushed into her chest, filling her veins with ancient memory. Her spine arched. Her eyes turned black as the soil.
"Then rise, daughter of nature. Your blood now binds you to the land again. To Rod again."
Lybid saw her grandma among the dead.
"My dear… Rod sealed that cursed land because… Immense evil lies there. His will is declining as more and more believers… They turn their faith to other gods… Our god's children they start to…"
Her voice twisted and distorted.
"You are to free this land from this curse."
Then everything went dark.