The night was thick with the scent of decay, the kind that lingered in forgotten alleys and hidden
corners. The sounds of laughter echoed, harsh and cruel, as a group of teenagers surrounded a
pitiful creature—an ugly black cat with one eye, battered and bruised, its fur matted and its body
shaking from the torment it had endured. The boys jeered, pushing the cat from one to the other
as if it were some sort of toy to be broken.
But then, the younger sister, Alina, came running into the alley, her heart racing as she saw the
scene unfold before her. She rushed toward the group, her voice trembling but full of the purity
and kindness that had always defined her.
"Please," she begged, reaching out to stop them, "Stop it! Leave the cat alone!"
Her words were desperate, filled with compassion for the animal they tormented. But the boys
only laughed louder, shoving her aside with careless cruelty.
"Get lost, crybaby!" one of them spat, knocking her to the ground.
But just as the cruelty seemed to have no end, the air in the alley shifted. The ground seemed to
tremble, the oppressive atmosphere thickening with something darker, something fiercer.
Vasilisa, the elder sister, stepped into the fray. Her eyes gleamed with a cold intensity, a fierce
fire that burned beneath her otherwise stoic expression. Without a word, she raised a wooden
stick, the sharp crack of it against the boys' backs reverberating through the alley. They scattered
like roaches, fear flashing in their eyes as they realized they had picked the wrong fight.
But Vasilisa didn’t stop there. She cursed under her breath, her voice low and venomous as she
turned to the trembling cat that lay in the dirt. "I’ve never in my life seen such an ugly cat," she
muttered, the words laced with disdain. Yet, despite her foul mouth, there was a strange energy
in her, an unspoken power that seemed to radiate from her like an unquenchable flame.
The cat, bruised and battered as it was, lifted its one good eye to her, sensing something far
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beyond the surface. It felt the purity that clung to Alina, a soft, holy energy that made the air
shimmer with light. But it felt something far stronger, far more potent from the older sister,
Vasilisa—a corrosive darkness, a deep and unsettling rage that seemed to stir the very shadows
around her.
The cat’s senses sharpened, and in that moment, it made its choice.
It would not choose the kind, the pure, the innocent. It would not choose the one who still
believed in the goodness of the world. No, it would choose the one who knew the world’s
darkness, who had felt its sting and who carried its weight. The one who would wield that power,
for better or for worse.
As Vasilisa’s gaze locked with the cat’s, the creature’s ancient eyes glinted with a strange,
predatory gleam. In that brief instant, their fates intertwined.
Days passed. The world had grown darker, colder, and more unforgiving. Vasilisa, now on the
run, was cornered, her life flashing before her eyes as gunshots rang out in the night. Alina,
crying, desperate, begged her to stop, to repent, to return to the way things had been before the
world fell apart.
But Vasilisa was not listening. She had made her choices, and they were final.
As the bullets pierced her flesh, a sense of inevitability settled in her bones, a cold understanding
that this was her fate. Yet, as she collapsed, crumpling to the ground, she turned her gaze toward
the cat—the one who had watched her with such chilling eyes.
"I vow," she gasped, the pain like fire in her chest, but her voice was steady, filled with a strange
resolve. "I vow, if you save her... promise me—promise me she will live a jolly life. Promise me
she will be happy."
The cat did not speak. It merely watched, its gaze fixed, unwavering.
With five shots fired, the life of Vasilisa slipped away, her body crumpled in the street, and the
promise to the cat lingered in the air like an unspoken contract.
