Sirin

The moon, huge and cold, like the eye of an ancient deity, watched them through the branches of an old birch tree. Sirin stood at the window of her hut, turning away from the girl, but feeling her anxious gaze on her. The smell of herbs and smoldering coals from the hearth filled the room, creating an atmosphere of coziness, but on this evening it seemed suffocating.

The silence was oppressive, like a stone slab. The girl was silent, afraid to disturb the fragile peace, but her impatience rang in the air like a taut string.

Finally, Sirin took a deep breath, a choking sigh, as if exhaling part of her soul along with the air. She turned around slowly, and the girl saw in her eyes – usually so wise and strong – a glimmer of fear.

“We shouldn’t be together.” Sirin’s voice sounded hoarse, like the rustle of autumn leaves underfoot.

The girl flinched as if from a blow.

• What are you saying, Sirin? Why? - her voice was full of misunderstanding and pain.

Sirin went to the window, turning away again, as if afraid of her gaze. She looked at the moon, at the silver reflections dancing on the surface of the river, and there was weariness in her voice, as if she carried the weight of centuries on her shoulders.

• You don't understand. I... I'm not like you. I'm a witch. Power runs through my blood, ancient and wild. I can control it, but... not always.

She paused, as if gathering her strength.

• I... I don't know what I'm capable of if we break up. Jealousy, resentment... they could unleash what I've been holding back so carefully. I'm afraid I'll hurt you, hurt you in ways you can't even imagine. I could... I could destroy everything around me, and especially you.

(TGK: cunnus)