Act XV, Hyperpolia (XIV)
fourteen
Yubi strolled southwards along the stream. Night fell, and though his mind was heavy with many thoughts, he noticed the river was finally showing signs of thawing; cracks were appearing on the ice. It was almost June, Yubi thought. Spring had come too late, but it was better than it never coming.
His footsteps echoed along the riverbank when he suddenly felt something rumbling beneath the ice, making his shoes tingle. It was as if a monster was lurking in the river, about to burst from its egg.
What was happening? Yubi quickened his pace, galloping towards the cozy home he and Yakov had painstakingly built—just as he saw the little cabin, Yakov was riding towards him at breakneck speed. "Run!" Blood Slave grabbed his arm and pulled him onto his horse. "Get away from the river!"
"What happened?" Yubi asked.
Before he could finish his question, a thunderous roar shattered the ice, deafening him completely—starting from the direction Yakov had come from, the once solidly frozen stream broke into countless enormous ice blocks, which were then swept vertically up by the turbulent waters below. The ice blocks piled up layer upon layer, pressing and pushing downstream.
"The river has finally thawed!" Yubi shouted. "Isn't that a good thing?"
Koyakov held the reins tight and kicked the spurs hard. After only a few steps, Yubi realized his feet were wet; his shoes were submerged. He looked back in shock and saw that the river water had been pushed out of the channel by the ice and was flooding his house. It was all over, he thought; all the food and firewood in the cellar were now useless.
“It’s too late,” Yakov said. “Take off your ring and fly!”
"What?"
"hurry up!"
Yubi, heeding his words, sprouted enormous wings from his back and burst through the fine white shirt Granny Vanera had given him. He hadn't done this in so long that he felt rusty, lacking the freedom and excitement of the first time. Yakov, holding onto his feet and dangling below him, was carried away from the icy river. The poor little horse soon neighed as it was swept away by the flood, disappearing into the forest.
The vampire looked down from the sky. The raging torrents quickly engulfed their house, the water rising to halfway up the smokehouse. A massive ice floe, enormous and seemingly insurmountable, swayed precariously across the river. It was so huge, almost like a small island, that Yubi had never known the once tranquil river could hold so much water, enough to freeze into such a colossal block of ice. His mouth hung open, speechless, as he watched the ice floe crash into their house with a deafening roar, collapsing the fireplace they relied on for warmth.
The terrible disaster seemed so insignificant in the darkness of night; the forest and the moon silently watched everything. Yubi thought that even a thousand armies couldn't withstand a small river. This thought inexplicably calmed him, as if he had been soothed by the god of fate.
Yakov, dangling from his feet, spoke with difficulty. “The floodwaters will rise even higher downstream,” he urged. “Go save Grandma Yaga!”
"She died yesterday!" Yubi had to shout for Yakov to hear him. "Then there's no one left!"
Yakov breathed a sigh of relief. "Then let's go south," he reminded him helplessly. "The south is upstream, it's safer there."
They leaped across the wrecked torrent and came to rest on the plain outside Novgorod. It was teeming with refugees. Some had lost their homes and abandoned everything; others were separated from their families, heartbroken and devastated. All the suffering and poverty were concentrated there, emitting a mournful cry of despair.
Yubi held Yakov's hand firmly, and Yakov held Yubi's hand firmly in return. Like all the other survivors around them, they checked each other for injuries and ailments, feeling both fortunate and sorrowful to have survived the ordeal.
“You’ve grown a few gray hairs,” Yakov said in surprise, pressing his forehead to look at them.
“Really?” Yubi touched the top of his head—he couldn’t see his white hair.
"...Maybe you should wear that ring less often."
"you're right."
“I’ve brought that sword with me.” Yakov touched his waist. “Is there anything else we need to go back for?”
“Apart from the ring, there’s nothing else.” Yubi held up her finger to show him.
“In that case, things are no different now than when we first arrived,” Yakov comforted him with a heavy heart.
"Nothing's changed since we first met," Yubi laughed. "But it would be even better if you had a few coins on you..."
Yakov rummaged through all his pockets—finally pulling a shiny silver coin from the inside pocket of his shirt, and then taking two squirrel skins from his waist. Just then, the archbishop of the city arrived with food and his retinue, distributing aid and arranging temporary lodging for the people.
“Perhaps we should stay at the monastery for a while,” Yubi said helplessly, clinging to Yakov’s arm. “Then we’ll go somewhere else.”
"Where do you want to go?" Yakov asked.
“I haven’t decided yet.” Yubi winked at him. “Is there anywhere you want to go? This time, you’re in charge!”
Yakov raised his hand, stroked his beard, and pondered for a long time. Yubi stared into his pale blue eyes, as if the whole world was condensed within them, waiting to be chosen.
The answer was drowned out by everyone else's voices, and only Yubi heard it.
Later, perhaps they truly measured the world with their own feet, spoke the languages of every corner, and met people of all skin colors and faces. They went to the tops of mountains, to the bottoms of oceans, to the most peaceful streets, the most desolate islands, and the most chaotic battlefields. When tired, they stopped; when idle, they continued. Sometimes they lay dormant, sometimes they took to the stage. Their long years were thus enriched, allowing them to exist eternally, devoid of meaning.
Later, the gods were no longer worshipped, and ideals were no longer bound. Under the relentless pressure of death, they found a way to survive, neither fearful nor succumbing, neither tense nor decadent. When the world turned upside down, they drifted with everyone else, accepting all the gifts and calamities that fate bestowed.
Later, they said that was the definition of freedom.
Later, perhaps the definition of freedom no longer mattered so much.
Novgorod Chapter Complete
The End.
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