In the stillness of the night, a figure approached—swift, silent, like a shadow drawn against the

  blackness of the world. His footsteps, though heavy and firm, barely disturbed the air as he

  entered the cold dungeon where Vasilisa lay chained. With a single glance, he knew the weight

  of the moment. Time was running out.

  "Come," he whispered urgently, the sharp edge of danger in his voice. "We have no time. They'll

  find you if we don't move now."

  Without hesitation, he pulled the chains from her wrists, a grim determination in his eyes. He

  was no ordinary man, and his actions made it clear—this wasn’t just a rescue, it was a desperate

  flight for survival. He wasted no time, leading her quickly through narrow corridors, avoiding

  guards and cameras with calculated precision.

  Once they were safely outside the palace walls, the man stopped, taking a deep breath. "We need

  to change you," he said bluntly. "If anyone finds us, we’re dead."

  Vasilisa blinked, still trying to grasp the full weight of her situation. The moonlight bathed the

  land in pale silver, and before she could fully understand what was happening, the man swiftly

  began cutting her hair. Strands of dark hair fell, and she watched him, taking in his features—a

  soldier, hardened by battles fought, yet undeniably handsome. His face, sharp and full of

  purpose, gave her an uncomfortable sense of familiarity.

  With each snip, her identity slipped further into the night.

  "Done," he said as he finished, standing back to survey his work. "You look like a commoner

  now."

  The transformation, however, was more than just physical. The weight of her reality had begun

  to settle on her shoulders. The man, seeing her confusion, motioned for her to follow. They

  moved quickly, the night air whipping around them as they left the looming palace far behind.

  As they reached the outskirts of a small village, the man paused. "We’re safe for now, but we

  need to talk."

  Vasilisa glanced at him, her mind swirling with questions. "What’s going on? What is the cat?

  Why did you help me?"

  He stared at her for a moment, as though debating whether he should speak at all. But the truth, it

  seemed, could no longer be hidden.

  "The cat," he began, his voice low, almost reverent, "comes from an ancient tribe of men, or

  rather, beasts. They can shift between forms, magic-infused creatures capable of passing through

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  realms. Not all of them are capable of such power, but the cat… he is. He survived the king’s

  purge."

  Vasilisa’s eyes widened. "The king killed his people?"

  "Yes. When the empire began to divide, the king, the one who holds this land’s power, feared

  what the cat’s people could bring. They were powerful, capable of creating queens, the ones who

  could give birth to the next rulers of kingdoms. So, he killed every last one of them, all of them

  but the cat."

  Vasilisa shook her head, absorbing the weight of his words. "Why didn’t he kill the cat?"

  "Because the cat is more powerful than the rest. He was spared because he could pass through

  realms. He was a survivor," the man explained, his tone tinged with bitterness. "But even then,

  the king didn’t trust him. He demanded the cat's eye as a symbol of gratitude, a symbol of

  submission, so the cat could swear loyalty to him. But the cat—he vowed vengeance, for his

  people, for all who were lost."

  The man turned to her, his eyes hardening. "And now, Vasilisa, the cat needs you. Only you can

  help him achieve that vengeance. Only you can give him what he’s been waiting for."

  Vasilisa felt a strange chill sweep through her as she processed what he was saying. The cat—

  who had spared her life—was not merely a guide. He was playing a game with forces far beyond

  her understanding. She had become a pawn in this twisted battle between kingdoms, vengeance,

  and lost hopes.

  "What do you mean, help him?" she asked, her voice quivering despite herself.

  "He’s waited for someone strong, someone capable of breaking the chains that bind this world.

  The king's empire, his bloodline—none of it matters now. The cat has chosen you because you

  have the power to destroy it all, to end the king’s reign and bring balance once more."

  Vasilisa stared at the man, the weight of the cat's words echoing in her mind: "You will give him

  that only you can."

  The world seemed to swirl around her, and for a moment, she thought she might collapse under

  the pressure. But as the moonlight bathed the village in a ghostly light, a single truth settled deep

  inside her.

  She was more than a vessel. She was a weapon. And whether she wanted to or not, she had a role

  to play in this world of gods, kings, and monsters.

  The fire that had been smoldering inside her for so long was starting to ignite.