![]() ![]() A sound was heard-the sound of a thousand voices, all whispering.īehind the gate, something stirred, as if a walking from along a long sleep. ![]() They swirled together, coalescing into an image-a bronze gate, sunk deep underwater and crusted with ice. As she did, colors appeared inside the the water fire. With a wrenching cry, the young witch raised her head and wove her voice once more into the chant. "Fight it! The circle must not break! The Iele must not falter!" Vraja shouted. Her skin-the mottled grey if river stones-paled. It's too much! Gods help me!" The witch cried. The witches bowed their heads and tightened Thur grip on one another's hands, suddenly one of them, the youngest, cried out. With out warning, the water fire rose, its flames licking out like serpents' tongues. "Tu esti lângã.te simt." Come, devil, come.you're near. "Vin, diavolul, vin," Vraja growled, drawing closer to the circle. Hands clasped, they swam counterclockwise in a circle, their powerful tails pushing then through the water. ![]() Show yourself.Īround the waterfire, eight river witches continued their song. Arata-te," she muttered in her age-old tongue. Deep in the black mountains, deep in the Romanian night, deep beneath the cold, dark waters of the ancient Olt, the river witches sang.įrom her place in the shadows, the elder, Baba Vraja, watched the blue waterfire, her bright eyes restive and alert. ![]()
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