Chapter 2: The Ferret's Gate

The howling outside Murphy's Tavern grew closer, a symphony of inhuman voices that made the windows rattle in their frames. Dmitry grabbed Alysa's arm, hauling her to her feet as she stared at Ryzhiy with the wide-eyed expression of someone whose reality had just been fed through a blender.

"We need to move. Now." Dmitry's voice carried none of the gentle patience he usually showed her. This was someone else entirely—someone harder, more dangerous.

"Move where?" Alysa's voice cracked. "That thing—you just—and he's talking—"

"Yes, yes, existential crisis later, fleeing for our lives now," Ryzhiy interrupted, his sapphire eyes fixed on the tavern's back exit. "They're surrounding the building. At least a dozen shadow-touched, maybe more."

Dmitry cursed in Russian, the words harsh and guttural. "How many does Chernobog have at his disposal?"

"More than you want to face with your current skill level," the ferret replied dryly. "Which is why we're taking a shortcut."

"What kind of shortcut?" But even as Alysa asked, she was backing toward the bar, her chemistry-trained mind already cataloging potential weapons. Bottles, cleaning chemicals, the industrial-sized fire extinguisher mounted near the kitchen door.

Ryzhiy hopped down from Dmitry's shoulder onto the bar's polished surface. "The kind that involves trust and a very strong stomach. Oh, and Alysa?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You might want to close your eyes for this part."

The ferret's mouth opened—and kept opening. What should have been a small pink cavity expanded impossibly, the space within shimmering like heat haze over summer asphalt. The edges of reality seemed to bend around that impossible opening, and through it, Alysa caught glimpses of something vast and chaotic beyond.

"What the actual hell—"

"Portal," Dmitry said grimly, already moving toward Ryzhiy. "He's a living gateway. Family perk." He grabbed Alysa's wrist. "Come on."

"You want me to crawl into your ferret's mouth?"

"Would you prefer to stay and meet Chernobog's welcoming committee?" Ryzhiy's voice echoed strangely now, coming from everywhere and nowhere. "Because they're about to knock down your door."

As if summoned by his words, something massive slammed against the tavern's front entrance. The reinforced steel door bent inward with a screech of tortured metal.

Alysa looked between the impossible portal and the failing door. "This is insane."

"Welcome to my childhood," Dmitry muttered, then stepped into Ryzhiy's mouth.

He vanished.

Another impact against the door, and this time it gave way entirely. Shadow poured through the opening—not darkness, but actual shadow, writhing and alive and wrong. Within it, Alysa caught glimpses of eyes and claws and things that had once been human but weren't anymore.

She grabbed the fire extinguisher and dove into the ferret.

The sensation was indescribable—like falling upward through cotton made of electricity while someone played her nervous system like a violin. Colors that had no names flashed past her closed eyelids, and for a terrifying moment she was convinced she was dissolving, coming apart at the molecular level.

Then her feet hit solid ground and she stumbled forward, gasping.

"Deep breaths," Dmitry advised, steadying her with a surprisingly gentle grip. "Portal travel takes getting used to."

Alysa opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't.

They stood in what could only be described as organized chaos. Market stalls stretched in every direction, defying architectural logic—some floating in mid-air, others built into the sides of impossible trees whose trunks disappeared into a sky that flickered between noon and midnight. The air hummed with a dozen different languages, none of them entirely human.

A creature that looked like a cross between a spider and a Victorian gentleman in a top hat scuttled past, arguing in rapid Russian with what appeared to be a living constellation. Nearby, a woman with bark for skin and leaves for hair haggled over a jar of captured moonlight with a teenager whose shadow moved independently of his body.

"The Veil Market," Dmitry said, noting her stunned expression. "The hidden magical heart of the city. Every major population center has one."

"This is..." Alysa's grip tightened on the fire extinguisher. "This is real."

"Unfortunately." Ryzhiy materialized beside them, once again ferret-sized and looking slightly smug. "Try not to stare at anything too long. Some of the vendors take sustained eye contact as either a challenge or a mating display."

A scent caught Dmitry's attention—something sweet and cloying that made his stomach turn. Strawberries and cream, but underneath it, the copper taste of old blood. He knew that smell. Had nightmares about it.

"We need to leave. Now."

But it was too late. The crowd around them began to part, market-goers stepping aside with the careful deference of those who knew better than to interfere. Through the gap walked three figures that made Alysa's breath catch in her throat.

The first was beautiful in the way poisonous flowers were beautiful—pale skin like porcelain, silver hair that moved without wind, and eyes the color of winter storms. She wore a dress that seemed to be cut from shadow itself, and when she smiled, her teeth were too sharp.

The second was massive, easily seven feet tall, with skin like granite and eyes like burning coals. His suit was perfectly tailored despite his impossible proportions, and the air around him shimmered with heat.

The third was the most unsettling of all—perfectly, blandly human. Average height, forgettable features, the kind of person you'd pass on the street without a second glance. But there was something wrong with the space around him, as if reality couldn't quite decide what to make of him.

"Dmitry Kozlov," the beautiful woman purred, her accent carrying hints of frozen rivers and midnight forests. "How lovely to finally meet you properly. I am Marzanna, and these are my associates, Svarog and... well, he prefers not to give names."

"I know who you are." Dmitry's voice was carefully controlled, but Alysa could see the tension in his shoulders. "What do you want?"

"To make you an offer." Marzanna's smile widened. "Our mutual friend—let's call him the Black God, shall we?—is prepared to be quite generous. Your grandmother caused him considerable... inconvenience over the years. But blood debts need not be inherited, especially by one so young and talented."

The air around them grew thick with power. Other market-goers were giving them an increasingly wide berth, some packing up their stalls entirely. Whatever this was, it was big enough to make mythical creatures nervous.

"What kind of offer?" Dmitry asked, though his tone suggested he already knew and didn't like it.

"Simple." The granite giant, Svarog, spoke for the first time, his voice like boulders grinding together. "Renounce your claim to the Kozlov legacy. Publicly. Permanently. In exchange, your mortal friend lives, you get a comfortable life somewhere warm, and nobody has to discover what your soul tastes like."

Alysa felt ice form in her stomach. "My what?"

"Your soul," the nameless man said pleasantly. "Dmitry here has what we call 'soul magic'—the ability to literally consume and manipulate the essence of living beings. It's quite rare. Also quite delicious, I'm told."

"That's not—I would never—" Dmitry started, but Marzanna cut him off with a laugh like breaking glass.

"Oh, sweet boy, you haven't figured it out yet, have you? How did you think you killed that rusalka so easily? Where did you think that lovely crimson fire came from?" Her eyes glittered with malicious delight. "You didn't just banish it, darling. You ate it. Consumed its very essence to fuel your power."

The world tilted sideways. Dmitry staggered, his face going white. "No. That's not... I'm not like her. I'm not a monster."

"Your grandmother was many things," Svarog rumbled, "but she was not a monster. She was a force of nature. As are you, whether you accept it or not."

"The offer stands," Marzanna continued smoothly. "Walk away from your birthright, and live. Cling to it, and watch everyone you care about die screaming. Starting with the girl."

Alysa had heard enough. She stepped forward, fire extinguisher raised like a weapon, and sprayed the closest figure—the nameless man—directly in the face with chemical foam.

He didn't even blink. The foam passed through him like he was made of mist.

"How rude," he said mildly, and suddenly Alysa couldn't move. Invisible hands held her limbs in place, squeezed her throat just enough to make breathing difficult. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order."

"Let her go." Dmitry's voice dropped to a whisper, and the berry stain on his hands began to glow.

"Or what? You'll eat us too?" Marzanna laughed. "Child, you can barely control your power. It took everything you had to handle one water sprite. What do you think you can do against three of the Black God's chosen?"

The truth was, Dmitry had no idea. But as he watched Alysa struggle against invisible bonds, as he saw the fear in her eyes, something fundamental shifted inside him. The careful walls he'd built around his power, the meditation and suppression and desperate attempts at normalcy—it all crumbled like paper.

"I think," he said quietly, "you're about to find out."

The crimson fire exploded outward from his hands, and several nearby stalls burst into flame. The crowd screamed and scattered, and somewhere in the chaos, Ryzhiy was shouting something about property damage and ancient treaties.

But Dmitry only had eyes for the three figures in front of him, and the terrifying realization that for the first time in six years, his power felt good. Natural. Right.

Like coming home.