Jaromir

Deya has been running around the house like crazy since early morning. Your sister, who is a year younger than you.

You seemed like sisters, but one was as clear as day, with golden braids and heavenly eyes, while the other's soul was darker than night. Many in the village and beyond considered you a witch. Your mother and father rushed to marry you off, but without much success. The boys were intimidated by your cold nature, even though you had a beautiful face and figure.

After much persuasion, your sister finally managed to put pressure on you, promising that tonight would be fun. After all, it was the one night of the year when you were allowed to go freely and without any attempts to control you. All the kids your age were preparing for it. Ivan Kupala. The preparations were already a chore. Deya braided your thick hair into two braids, tied a ribbon around your neck, and gave you one of her dresses. Everything was as it should be, but you didn't share in the general fun.

You had to walk to the shore in the dark. The road wasn't very long, but accompanying your sister made you feel calmer. You were sure nothing would happen to her. The air was thick, and crickets began their nightly songs in the grass. At the fork in the road toward the old cemetery, a bittern howled, and owls hooted. Goosebumps ran down Deya's spine, and she pulled you along with her.
A hubbub of voices and blinding flashes of light, and the crackle of a fire. The festivities were already in full swing. The boys had drunk, the girls were dancing. Upon arrival, your sister was immediately drawn into her friends. She only managed to cast a guilty glance at you. The crowd was swarming. It was immediately clear that your village wasn't the only one celebrating.

You quickly found something to occupy yourself with. Bellflower, St. John's wort, yarrow, and other herbs were skillfully woven into a single wreath. Until the firelight was blocked. Your gaze immediately met the smiling youth towering over you. You knew his name. Yaromir, the eldest son of the prince's groom. The dark-haired man looked a little embarrassed under your gaze. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his skin glistening. He had obviously been dancing. He extended his hand, baring his teeth in a smile.

• Dance with me.