Sometimes life gives you gifts that you don't know how to return. The next morning, I went down to the spa center's restaurant. The room was bathed in the soft light of delicate lamps fixed to the walls. The tables were covered with white, thick tablecloths, the kind you usually see in movies when the characters go to a fancy restaurant. Polished cutlery was laid out on either side of my plate. Out of all the utensils, I could only recognize the small butter knife with its rounded blade and a simple fork. Or at least, what I had always thought of as a regular fork—it's all about perspective. Guests were offered two forks to choose from: a larger one and a smaller one. The larger one, which I called "the regular one" out of lack of a better idea, I picked up.
Just as I was about to try the tiny dessert in the center of the perfectly smooth white plate, Tatyana chuckled good-naturedly and called me by my name. For the first time in a long while.
"Well, Aсya," she reached for the tiny dessert fork that had been left next to my plate, "Here's the dessert fork."
Tanya raised the fork into the air and ran her finger along the edge of the left prong.
"See the notch? It's there specifically so it's easier to break apart the biscuit. If you press down properly, it will lift each layer at once and keep the pastry from turning into a messy mush on the plate. Go on, take it and try!"
I exchanged glances with Dasha, but she just shrugged and reached for a teaspoon to try the tiramisu, as if she didn't consider it necessary to stress over etiquette rules.
After the rumors Rostova spread about me at school, Tanya and I didn't communicate for quite some time. All winter, Tanya and I were forced to share the same space as well as our mutual friend, Dasha, while keeping ourselves at opposite ends of the classroom. In the evenings after school, things were much simpler: for the most part, I dedicated my free time to training with my father and Denis, and also went on forest patrols, looking for stray, low-blood vampires.
In those days, my mental scales tilted heavily in favor of peace with the presence of Kaandor. If I had told myself at the time of my transformation that life would turn out this way in early winter, I would never have believed it. At first, I saw the spirit not only as an adversary but as a clear threat. I thought that once the spirit disappeared, my simple human life would open up again, welcoming me into a world full of interesting events, meetings, and happenings. Of course, Kaandor could be a thorn in my side at times, especially when he refused to answer my questions directly. But at the same time, our gradual closeness and learning about each other helped me embrace the darker side of the world that was irresistibly pulling me in like the sun, causing the meaning of my life to revolve around it, like a helpless companion.
Doctor Smirnov and my mother kept saying that it was still possible to turn things around and find a cure. However, Vladimir's enthusiasm faded when the doctor's main battle was lost, and he lost his wife. Without Olga, the work of the local werewolves increased because when she died, the fragile protection that had shielded Kserton from incursions by other full-blooded vampires collapsed. According to my father, the vampires hadn't yet entered the territory: they only sent small groups of newly turned vampires, with whom I had encountered while on patrols. Like expendable pawns, they were sent to be sacrificed by their creators, testing the strength of Kserton's defenses. We, in turn, did everything to make sure the ancient vampires didn't get the mistaken impression that the land was free, nor the temptation to seize it.
The wolves weren't idle, even though the primary duties were traditionally carried out by Vladimir's trainees. As soon as the sad news about Olga's death became public in the city, my father no longer gave me peace, dragging me into endless training sessions, worried that I might be too weak for the uncertain future that was drawing closer to our doorstep with every passing night. No one felt safe anymore, and this constant sense of unease entwined every aspect of our lives like poisonous ivy. The parasite drained not only our own joy but seemed to consume the colors of Kserton as well, preventing summer from asserting itself on time.
Despite the alliance with vampires, who could still barely be called my friends, I started to build a wall between us, brick by brick, thickening the barrier and distancing myself from the Smirnov family and the Yakovlev twins, because I knew very well that each of them was in danger as long as I was nearby. I had spoken with enough wolves about their connection to the spirit to understand that what was happening to me was far from normal.
Instinctively, I was drawn to vampire blood, and there was nothing I could do about it. The thought that my teeth would sink into the fragile neck of Diana filled me with a mixture of horror and a desire to taste her flesh. It was almost impossible to distinguish which thought was mine and which belonged to Kaandor, for with each passing day, the boundary separating us as two different beings was gradually erasing.
"Asya, would you like some tea?" Dasha called to me, nodding toward the teapot she was holding, and I moved my cup closer so she could reach it. Amber liquid poured from the spout of the teapot in a thin stream, releasing a barely noticeable steam in the morning light.
Without the help of someone skilled in science and with knowledge of the beings who secretly hid among humans, my mother had for a time tried to seek support from witches, attempting to reestablish a connection with the Kserton coven, but without a new High Priestess, Maria's efforts were in vain. My mother couldn't establish a dialogue with any of the local families, meeting only closed doors: the witches still held a grudge against Maria for her connection to Kostya, clinging to the old dogmas like a drowning person clinging to a board, hoping to see the shore one last time. But unlike the drowning person, the witches firmly believed that the new High Priestess had never been reborn — a punishment for the whole generation that had foolishly dared to disrupt the fragile balance of the world. The lesson of Mother Nature for the witch's sinful bond with her creation — the werewolf. A creature that the great Mother had never conceived nor approved of.
I didn't want to watch as Maria continued to humble herself for the illusory chance to save her daughter, knowing that her attempts might never materialize. And, to be honest, I was damn tired of being the sad girl who couldn't face the truth and accept her fate.
It was all over, and I chose to live on, even though I still didn't fully understand what that could mean. The path to becoming an ordinary human again was forever closed to me, and the attempts to contain the wolf inside, as I now understood, could only create a temporary illusion that nothing had changed. But in reality, concepts like "ordinary," "normal," and "old" had long since disappeared from our lives.