There was a tale, that somewhere, in the deepest woods, where the crowns of trees were so thick, that not even a single ray of light could make its way through, lived a witch. And not just any witch! Wise and omnipotent, she had studied the intricacies of her craft long before the tzarstvo existed. And it was believed that even the svetinya Vihur Petrosinov was one of her apprentices before he answered the gods' calling of his service. Among her powers, each impressive, there was one that stood out the most - her ability to summon back a soul that has been lost between the worlds of the living and dead.

"Bring her to me!", said the boy, hoping the thunder had hidden the tremble of his voice, as the thought that there would be no fear or indecision in his father's voice swirled in his head. "But father is dead! And so is mother!” The truth burned through his heart, but there was little within his powers that could change it.  

"Bring us the witch!" Spoke another, with the exact strength, he too wished to be able to convey. It was Albena, the first of his three sisters!

"Grandfather Stoyu, you are the oldest here! There is no time to lose, we can still save her!" Vulchan was quick to point his youngest sister Kalina, badly wounded and struggling for breath, clinging to life as best as she could. Albena had wrapped her up to stop the bleeding — unsuccessfully - a scarlet stain had bloomed on her chest, draining the colour of her face. "We beg you!" He heard himself say. Never had it once occurred to him that he would be in a position where he would have to beg. Until now! And the old man, with his leaking eyes, could only answer back with pity. "If you can't go, at least guide me to her! Father had once told me, that in times of need we could turn to her and that you know where she is! I swear you on their memory to help us!"

Grandpa Stoyu wiped his eyes off with his sleeve and walked toward one of the walls. He began touching the wall, and both siblings could only do as much as look at him. The young boy was about to voice his distrust, when the wall suddenly opened and revealed a hidden corridor. The old man took a torch from the wall and hurried as fast as his old body allowed him.

Though taken by surprise by the secret path unknown to him, Vulcan turned to Albena. Trembling, she was holding Kalina even tighter in her arms, whispering to her that everything would be fine. Words meant to reassure all of them.

„What are we doing? We are just children.“ At age eleven, she was but a year younger than him, and Kalina had only recently come to be at six years of age.

Vulchan did not answer. He couldn’t. He himself was uncertain. Maybe he was gambling away Kalina's life, hoping that, as if like in some fairy tale of sorts, things would work out with the help of magic, aiding them in a great time of need. But life was far from fairy tales. And the lifeless, severed bodies of their parents served as a bitter reminder of this.

"Things will get better! I will do everything I can! I promise!” He tried to calm her.

"Don't make promises you're not sure you're going to keep!" Albena replied, placing her hand on the one he had put on her shoulder a while ago. "Mirrors, candles, windows. Isn't that what you are supposed to do?"

"Old wives’ tales!" Vulchan was quick to rebuff her. 

"People will talk regardless, but there are things we can avoid!" His sister tried to reason with him. 

Vulchan sighed - he couldn't argue with that. He could never argue with Albena.

"Let's start with the candles," he said at once, "then cover the mirrors, but I wouldn’t risk opening the windows, with this storm..." He was yet to finish, when lightning lit up the room as bright as day, immediately followed by a thunder’s roar.

Though startled, Vulchan was determent to perform the tasks. He had to! The small mirror hanging on the wall was the first one to be covered. He stepped up to the big one, where an adult could look at themself in full stature, only to stop in astonishment. There seemed to be another reflection in the mirror besides his own. He blinked once. Second time. Anpd third. With each time, it seemed to be getting closer. Looking around, a dagger caught his eye. He grabbed it quickly, paying no mind to the bloodstains all over it.

"Vulchan!"

Albena, still holding Kalina, pointed at the mirror. There, the silhouette of another person was clearly visible. He took stance in front of his sisters, ready to protect them, when the mirror’s surface began to tremble, resembling that of water when you throw a rock in it. The flicker stopped as the figure stepped out of the mirror – tall, its face was hidden beneath the hood of the cloak, that was covering it from head to toe. Vulchan and Albena looked at each other as if it was for the last time. The strange figure began to look around, walking past the children, first at the candles, then at the mirror. And lastly, for what they felt was too long, at the bodies. The old man had covered them so that they wouldn't have to look at the wounds that had quickly ended their lives. 

Finally, it turned to face them, taking off its hood and revealing itself as a woman. Her appearance was youthful, thought her eyes hinted at wisdom beyond the life of ordinary men. With hair as dark as raven's wing, her beauty was unworldly and a moment more could have made him forget even why had called upon her in the first place. 

"Are you the witch?" He asked with little patience in his voice. 

"Why? Are you waiting for someone else?” She replied with a slight smile, that did little to calm him. The silver in her eyes had become Iron and met the fire in his, as her gaze shifted to Kalina, who was struggling to catch her breath, her voice became more serious, and yet equally gentle. "I can save her, but it will be difficult, and you must promise me something in exchange."

 “Whatever you want! I will give you whatever is within my reach and beyond!” His words came out more desperate than stern. 

 “I need neither wealth nor heroic deeds. Just your honest word." She smiled once more as she declared "I want you to make an oath to me!”

"Vulchan, don't! How do we know we can trust her? Where is Grandpa Stoyu? If she is the witch indeed, why didn't he accompany her back?” Albenla protested. And there was truth in her words.

“You are a clever one! It is good that you are quick to think of such things. He’s staying with my sister, getting a needed rest." She was silent for a little, before revealing that it was her sister that they were waiting for. 

"So you're not the witch?" Vulchan spoke, sounding disappointed, angry and hopeless all at once.

"I'm a witch, just not who you thought I would be. People often mistake us for the other, or worse -  sometimes they even think there is only ones.” The witch explained, her calm demeanour simingly unchanged. "I am Delyana! My elder sister is named Asya."

Both Albena and Valchan looked at each other, as a new wave of anxiety overwhelmed them.

"But you are lucky!" She went on. "The zhiva and murtva voda are in my field of speciality! Her star has started fading out, so you must decide quickly!”

Forgive me, his eyes spoke, as he stepped out. 

"Very well!'

“You must swear to me before the gods - Svyati, his sister Sudnitsa, their mother Zhiva and her sisters - Dazhna and Grumka. And if you start with the oath, you must finish it!”

"What must I swear to you?" He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“That she will stay with me in spring and summer. The treatment of such wounds is difficult and long. Sometimes it can even take a lifetime. She will stay with me in Zhegavitsa. My home is safer than any place you can think of!”

"Don't, there must be another way!" But Albena's cries couldn't change his mind.

“The decision is yours to make.” The witch replied calmly, as she held out her hand to him. Vulchan took it, squeezing it tightly and firmly. "Repeat after me! - I, Vulchan, swear that in spring and summer, my youngest sister Kalina will stay with the witch Delyana, at her home in Zhegavitsa…"

Vulchan repeated the words, loudly, without a hint of hesitation. But it was only after he had spoken the full oath "…to be healed and be an apprentice!",  that he realized what he had done.

"Stop her! Stop her before it's too late!” Albena cried and rebuked him, while Delyana took Kalina in her arms, wrapping her in her cloak. Turning to the witch, she spoke with all her courage – “You deceived us! You told us that you will only heal her! There is no agreement between you and me! Hand her to me!”

“Yes, you are right, there is no agreement between the two of us. But I have to fulfil my part of the oath with your brother. Besides, she won't be the first in the family that has studied under us.”

"So it's true!" So the tale of Vihur is real?" Albena let out in disbelief. But she waited for no answer, as she quickly grabbed the witch's sleeve. "I, Albena, swear to not interfere with the teachings of her sister Kalina by the witch Delyana, as the former shall help us discover who is responsible for the deaths of our parents and the wounding of our sister!" The witch, very much amused, agreed to the oath.

"You truly are her daughter!" Was the last thing she said before entering back into the mirror, taking Kalina with her, equal part pride and sadness had been wooven in her voice.

Albena turned toward her brother, as her tears began to overflow. He tried to calm her down but to no avail. Both could do as much as hold each other until they were exhausted from crying. 

Just how much time had passed between the almost unbelievable encounter with the witch and the first shouts, they wondered. 

The guards, who had come to change shift, charged into the room.

"Faster!" One gave orders.

"The knyaz! The knyaginya!" Another spoke with worry.

 "Call for help!” A third cried out.

"Young knyaz? What happened? Are you injured?” Vulchan was asked.

"Knyaginya Albena, who did this? How many were there? Where did they go?” Albena was carefully lifted.

The questions wouldn't stop pouring, but no matter what both siblings remained silent and numb.

Finally, someone gave orders:

"Send a message to the tzar! Send a message to the rest of the great bolyari! Knyaz Svetlin and knyaginya Bisera are dead! Kostitsa has a new knyaz! Long live Vulchan Petrosinov - knyaz of Kostitsa and a great bolyarin!"