When Night Falls

part iii| xxvii

IN ANITCHKA'S DREAMS, the Count has his fingers splayed over her shoulder in a grip that suggests that she would be at his side. Forever, if she could. She recalls his words, and envisions them tracing their footsteps in the snow. In a place that is cold to the world, but home to them.

"Are you alright, dorogoya?" His words are close to her ear, warped in ice. "They're here now, Anna. We've been waiting."

Her hair in disarray, the girl stirs awake as though dragged from a slumber she had prayed for. Head pounding, Anitchka mourns the loss of the Count's proximity as he takes a step away. "I'm sorry."

Olga hands her a steaming cup of tea, carrying the tray to Spring next. The celestial being watches her from under thick lashes. She inhales the lavender scent, then sips the tea. "You were smiling in your sleep, human."

Dmitri hops across the flooring. "Anyone here wants to bet what Bones was thinking about?"

Anitchka splutters.

"We should let the Mistress speak now," Helga cuts in, crossing her arms. "You've talked enough, fly."

Averting her gaze from the arresting one of the Count's, Anitchka takes a deep breath. She's sure her face is tinged in the hue of embarrassment from seeing him in her dream. But then, this isn't the first time. He had slotted himself in her mind long before she met him. "This might sound strange, but I think the Tsar is the first Collector."

The silence that ensues casts a shadow of doubt over her. And in the span of the growing quiet, she feels the spaces between her fingers warm with another pair. She has memorised the lines of his palms enough to know who it is without looking. Before there's any questions about the shared gesture, he withdraws once more. "I've never heard of more than one Collector in existence, yet it doesn't seem impossible."

"But it is," Spring says, shifting her weight. "That isn't how the laws work."

"Well," the Count takes a brief moment, "I did not think that death could be stalled. That winter would be endless. That Spring could be banished. Surprisingly, here we are."

The goblin girls speak together, as they always do. "What makes you think so, Mistress?"

Anitchka tells them about the portraits, about the entitlement with which the Tsar left himself unarmed, and of how he knew exactly where to find them when they'd visited her home. She watches Dmitri nod in confirmation about the eerie portraits. The Count simply leans against the wall, casting a shadow around his aura, almost as though he might slip into the darkness anytime.

It's Spring who cuts through the silence. "What do you think?"

Her words are aimed at the Count, and he rakes a worried hand through his hair, and edge to his fingers. She hasn't seen him that restless before. Perhaps it threatens him more that the enemy is not merely a ruler who has kept death at bay but also one who holds power as an equal. "I believe Anna."

"Do you really mean it or you're saying that because–"

"We can't rule out any possibility," he says abruptly, "There's no room to take risks, and it's always better to be prepared."

Olga and Helga scratch their masks, deliberating. "Mistress...and everyone else, we have something to tell."

They turn to look at the goblin girls. "Spit it out," Dmitri urges. Anitchka nods, uttering, "Go on."

"I-I mean, we," Helga corrects quickly, "think that the Tsar visits the In Between sometimes."

"That's impossible," the Count mutters, straightening himself up, "I'd know if he tried to cross the lands."

Spring lets out a small breath. "Unless you don't know because he's the other Collector. So, his presence isn't felt at all."

An inexplicable silence blankets the cold atmosphere of the room. Even with company, everything seems more distant than ever. "How do you know that he visits the In Between?"

"Mistress, we've been tracking the goblins there like you had asked of us," Olga tilts her head, "and we heard them talking of the Tsar."

She clasps her hands together, almost prayer-like. "Did you happen to hear his name?"

The Count's gaze is sharp, fixating on her all the while as the goblins speak. He watches her sigh when the creatures refuse, as she draws back dejected. And it's as though his winters have become endless once more. He turns towards the window, peering outside at the expanse of a kingdom built on death. "You all need not push yourselves into this."

"I cannot tell if you're a selfless fool or an overconfident brat," Spring snaps in a clipped tone, and for a moment, they pour themselves into a fleeting laughter that might not be around for long. "I have my Godliness on stake too so don't you dare think of abandoning this."

"We're all here for our own reasons," Anitchka adds, "Nothing too noble."

Dmitri hums. "Well, we know yours."

She steps away from him. "We should continue tracking the goblins. Perhaps we can catch the Tsar right when he meets them."

"And then what?" Spring announces, exasperated, "What do we do then? We're outnumbered, and our best hope to finish him is to–"

"–find his name," the Count completes, zeroing his eyes on Anitchka, unblinking and unravelling instead. "That's what your plan is."

Olga and Helga nod. "We're sure that he is a Collector?"

"It's a hunch," the girl speaks, donning the robes of a calculative woman once again, "that he's the first of his kind. And perhaps the one who saved my life a long time ago."

There's that stillness in the room, hanging heavy, and it has nothing to do with the raging storm of snow outside. It is the quiet that appears when they realise that should they fail, all their lifespans will merge to birth a cold more endless than the old world witnesses now.

And then, the former Goddess who has been banished into the heart of winter shivers for the first time truly.

a/n: so the hiatus went on for a while. i hope you all are keeping safe and well in these times. that said wnf will be updated weekly (hopefully) again.