The night air was cold, thick with the weight of unspoken promises and shifting fates. Vasilisa

  stood beside the flickering embers of a small fire, her mind churning with questions she was too

  afraid to voice. In the shadow of the village, she and her reluctant companion, a man named

  Mikhail Arsenyev, sat in silence.

  Mikhail glanced at her, his eyes steady but distant. "My name is Mikhail Arsenyev," he finally

  spoke, breaking the heavy quiet between them. "I was sent to watch over you... by the cat."

  Vasilisa's gaze hardened as she looked back at him, her features set in an expression of defiance.

  "The cat," she repeated. "What do you think he'll do when he gets his revenge? After everything?

  What will happen to me?"

  Mikhail’s face was unreadable, but his voice held the weight of truth when he replied. "I can’t

  answer that," he said softly. "I am just a servant, and my purpose is to care for you... on his

  behalf. I am bound to follow his will."

  The words felt like a dagger to her heart, and she quickly swallowed the knot that had formed in

  her throat. She had not asked for this, this twisted fate, and yet it felt as if it was closing in

  around her with each passing moment.

  She stood up, pacing in the dark, her breath ragged. "So what am I supposed to do now?" she

  demanded, her voice laced with frustration. "What is the cat’s plan for me?"

  Mikhail looked up at her, his face a mask of resignation. "You have to do nothing," he said. "Just

  give birth to a child. The cat says you are cursed, and so will your child be."

  A bitter laugh escaped Vasilisa’s lips as she turned to face him, her eyes burning with fury. "A

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  child? A cursed child?" she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Man, you know why I

  defy the king? Because of this one shitty reason. I’m not going to bear anyone's child. Not now.

  Not ever. And don't you dare think I’m some helpless pawn to be played with."

  Her eyes locked onto Mikhail’s, fierce and unyielding. "I can kill when it's needed," she said, her

  tone cold as ice. "You tell your pussyass master that. I’m not his tool. I’m not anyone’s fucking

  tool."

  Mikhail stood still, his gaze unwavering. The tension in the air was thick, but he made no move

  to approach her. He understood, perhaps, the depth of her pain, but he was bound by his role.

  Vasilisa, however, felt as if the chains were closing in tighter around her with every word she

  spoke. She was caught between her hatred for this twisted fate and the possibility that she might

  never escape the hands that controlled her.

  Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of defiance, as she glared at Mikhail one last

  time. "Send those words to your master. Tell him I’m no one's pawn. And if he dares to come for

  me... I'll show him what real power is."

  Mikhail only nodded, his expression unreadable. There was little he could do but carry out his

  duty. The choices had already been made for them both, whether they liked it or not.

  Vasilisa’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and then, with a sharp turn, she walked into

  the darkness, her heart burning with the fire of rebellion.

  And the cat, wherever it was, would soon learn just how far she was willing to go to fight her

  fate.