Lucky Vasilisa

– Vasilisa, you are a truly lucky child.

Vasilisa blinked slowly.

‘Am I dead…?’

Perhaps death would have been better. What use was a life clinging on when everything was lost? A stinging sensation bloomed across her lower back, quickly followed by a throbbing ache.

‘I’m alive. Pain means I’m alive.’

It was a sensation etched into her very being. Using pain as a net, she barely managed to gather her scattered senses.

A single ray of light descending from the distant cave ceiling illuminated her deep, ocean-like eyes. Like a parched dog, Vasilisa opened her eyes wide, greedily absorbing the cascading light.

The sound of metal clashing startled her newly gathered awareness.

Vasilisa slowly turned her head. A metallic sound rang out as her straw-like hair cascaded down, brushing against her ears.

Beneath her small frame lay an immeasurable mountain of gold coins and jewels. The treasure stretched into the darkness of the vast cave, its end unseen.

“The dragon’s lair…”

Vasilisa’s voice echoed in the enormous space. They said dragons were greedy, hoarding the world’s treasures in their nests. It seemed she had reached her destination.

The Count’s old, insidious voice echoed in her ears.

– A dragon… Isn’t he a fitting match for someone as beautiful as you?

Vasilisa looked up at the hole she had fallen through. She recalled the cold hand that had shoved her into the pit after twenty years of raising her. It was a height from which even a small animal would likely perish.

Her bruised and scratched fingers brushed against the pile of gold coins. They were just worthless pieces of metal, objects she had never truly used. In Vasilisa’s eyes, they would forever remain insignificant.

Vasilisa stumbled to her feet. The gold-covered floor made it difficult to keep her balance, but she quickly adapted. Her feet, still caked with dirt, moved forward with a

sound.

Vasilisa had been offered as a sacrifice to the dragon.

Every few decades, the dragon sent a messenger to the village. The dragon’s demand was always the same:

The previous Count, and the one before him, had all offered treasures worthy of the dragon’s satisfaction. But the current greedy Count, instead of his own riches, had offered his only stepdaughter as tribute.

Likely because Vasilisa’s supposed luck had brought him more than enough gold to satisfy his avarice.

– There’s no child luckier than Vasilisa. The most valuable thing in the village is undoubtedly my daughter, Vasilisa.

All her life, Vasilisa had agreed with that statement.

It was only after falling into this pit that she realized the most precious thing to the Count wasn’t her, but the gold and jewels. Waking up on a bed of gold, Vasilisa realized she was a most unfortunate woman.

Wiping the dirt from her face with her sleeve, she walked deeper into the cave. The mountains of gold, which would have made the Count’s eyes pop out, crumbled beneath her bare feet like worthless sand.

The clinking of gold and jewels colliding, the strange sulfurous smell mixed with the scent of rusting metal, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth—her senses, heightened by tension, clung to her crumbling sanity.

She repeatedly climbed and descended the directionless mountains of gold.

She had to escape this place somehow. But how…? No one had ever returned from the dragon’s lair in living memory.

It was a daring thought, one the old Vasilisa could never have entertained. But fueled by the burning embers of her desire for revenge, she felt she could melt all the gold in this cave.

“…Will I even be able to meet the dragon?”

As she muttered to herself, a gust of wind blew. A warm breath of air washed over her, and Vasilisa quickly raised her head.

In the pitch-black darkness where nothing had existed moments before, a magnificent throne shimmered into existence. Placed atop the mountain of gold, the throne was ornately decorated with intricate vine-like patterns, its seat and back upholstered in rich crimson velvet. It resembled a meticulously crafted work of art rather than a mere piece of furniture.

Upon it lay a tall man, his head resting on his hand, like a sculpted statue.

“You must be the woman the Count spoke of.”

His voice was chillingly soft and sweet.

The sight of the man made her forget all about the throne. Even if dozens of artisans worked together for years, they couldn’t create anything more beautiful than him.

She felt as though a lowly person like herself shouldn’t dare to look upon him.

Quickly lowering her head, Vasilisa clutched her skirt and knelt.

“A… Are you the dragon’s messenger?”

She had heard countless whispers about the appearance of the messenger who visited the mansion. How beautiful his appearance was, how honey-sweet his voice. There couldn’t be two such beautiful men in the dragon’s lair.

No answer came.

Vasilisa cautiously glanced up, observing the man. Even then, she couldn’t raise her gaze past his neck due to the overwhelming pressure emanating from him.

He wore a simple shirt and a dark blue robe embroidered with gold thread. His long, azure hair cascaded over his broad shoulders, resembling silk dyed in indigo.

Still silent, the man slowly leaned towards Vasilisa. His flowing hair reflected the faint light within the cave like waves shimmering in the sunlight.

As he looked down at her, Vasilisa quickly averted her gaze. Clutching her dirty skirt, she pleaded earnestly.

“Messenger, please, allow me to speak with the dragon. I have an urgent request.”

She heard the sound of the man rising. But the footsteps that should have followed were absent. Unlike her, his steps didn’t disturb a single gold coin.

The tips of the man’s leather shoes came into view in Vasilisa’s lowered gaze. His gait was lithe, almost weightless.

“Raise your head.”

Only after permission was granted did Vasilisa hesitantly lift her head.

The man standing before her was easily a head taller than the largest man in the village, the blacksmith. Vasilisa’s body tensed under the inexplicable aura of authority he exuded. The defined muscles beneath his open shirt were like lines drawn with precision.

But it was his eyes that truly captivated her. Multiple golden rings surrounded strangely vertical pupils. His beauty, too perfect for a human, was breathtaking.

“The dragon is an immortal being. Do you believe such a being would listen to the pleas of a mortal who will wither and die in the blink of an eye?”

His unexpected response left Vasilisa speechless.

The dragon could obliterate the village with a single flap of its wings and crumble the castle walls with a single breath.

No matter how tragic Vasilisa’s story was, to the dragon, she would be nothing more than a tiny insect, easily crushed underfoot. The prospect of attracting the dragon’s attention to achieve her revenge seemed like a distant dream. 

The man’s leisurely demeanor, as if time held no meaning for him, made Vasilisa clutch her skirt desperately.

Her rose-colored lips trembled in the heavy air.

“The Count deceived the dragon. I am not worthy of being offered as the dragon’s bride.”

The golden eyes narrowed into a semblance of a smile.

“A bride? This is the first I’ve heard of it. I was only told that the Count would offer his daughter.”

Fear washed over Vasilisa at the man’s words. The Count had clearly said she was to be the dragon’s bride. The dragon’s messenger couldn’t be mistaken, which meant the Count had offered her as a sacrifice while weaving a deceptive tale of a bride.

Considering the countless lies the Count had spun throughout her life, this wasn’t surprising.

But Vasilisa had already set foot in the dragon’s lair. Once inside, no one had ever escaped. She hadn’t expected to survive in the first place. Vasilisa hastily lowered her head.

“I… I was under that impression. To offer an unwilling bride… what a grave offense. I merely wish to beg for forgiveness and make a shameless request.”

Since the dragon’s messenger hadn’t dismissed her outright, perhaps his master, the dragon, also possessed a sliver of mercy. Weren’t dragons wise beings who lived for eons? Clinging to this hope like a lifeline, Vasilisa clasped her hands together in earnest prayer.

The man leisurely surveyed Vasilisa’s surroundings.

“Interesting. Those who enter here often present their meaningless crowns and trinkets. Yet you come with a request.”

The man chuckled softly. Wherever his gaze landed, golden crowns once worn by kings, silver shields of knights, and rings bearing noble family crests lay piled up like grains in a mill.

“I care not for the Count’s deception. Humans are creatures of cunning. It’s quite endearing.”

For a messenger representing a dragon, his attitude was remarkably casual. The kingdom’s legends spoke of the fate of those who incurred the dragon’s wrath. The countless unmarked graves here served as a stark reminder.

Frowning, Vasilisa raised her voice.

“Are you sure? This could incur the dragon’s wrath because of a lowly being like myself.”

The desire to seize the opportunity to face the dragon, before a tedious argument ensued, outweighed her fear.

A wide grin stretched across the man’s lips. His robe and shirt slid to the floor.

“…You are quite oblivious, aren’t you?”

Vasilisa’s light blue eyes widened in bewilderment.

If she wasn’t mistaken, the man before her was growing larger. A bluish light emanated from his well-defined muscles.

“…!”

Startled by a sense of foreboding, Vasilisa stumbled backward.

As the man closed his eyes, golden scales, edged with a bluish-silver, emerged on his smooth skin. The scales, covering his powerful muscles, were hard and gleaming like chainmail.

His massive, oak-like frame towered over her, his face impossible to see without looking up. The mixture of beast and human in his appearance evoked both fear and awe.

Vasilisa gasped, feeling the oppressive weight of the air around her.

The man, now fully transformed, opened his eyes and looked down at the terrified Vasilisa from atop the mountain of gold.

“I am Koschei the Deathless, the one you call ‘dragon.’”

Despite his gentle tone, his voice resonated through the cave. Vasilisa froze, huddled in fear like a mouse before an eagle.

“To me, value is unchanging. Your life and the Count’s are no different. There is no reason for anger, nor any reason to address your grievances.”

Blue flames flickered between his sharp claws, like an eagle’s talons, as they scraped against each other. The man’s strange appearance, coupled with his smile, was terrifyingly beautiful.

“You are but a fleeting amusement.”

Koschei’s gaze alone made her feel like prey before a predator. But she had come prepared to die. Even if she became a single mouthful for the dragon, her unyielding thirst for revenge burned within her heart.

Vasilisa straightened her trembling body.

“Dragon Koschei, hear my plea! Grant me my wish! Allow me to avenge my parents! If you do, I will do anything!”

Koschei’s eyes curved with amusement at her desperate cry. Vasilisa stretched her trembling, sweat-soaked hands towards him.

“As you said… wouldn’t my wish be nothing more than swatting away a bothersome insect to you?!”

At her seemingly rebuking cry, Koschei surveyed the woman before him.

Her straw-colored hair and worn noble attire paled in comparison to the surrounding gold. But these things couldn’t hide Vasilisa’s inherent worth. With her straight nose and rosebud lips, she was a rare beauty. Of course, human beauty held no meaning for a dragon.

It wasn’t her appearance that caught Koschei’s attention, but the deep resentment that dwelled within her deep blue eyes.

His scaled hand grasped her small chin, feeling a faint tremor. Koschei looked down at Vasilisa, who met his gaze unflinchingly despite her fear.

“I am not a wish-granter.”

Vasilisa swallowed hard at Koschei’s cold reply. His elongated pupils pulsed, widening and then narrowing again.

“…However, observing human desires can be quite entertaining. If your story intrigues me, I might be inclined to grant your request. What is your name?”

His low, heavy voice, as smooth as honey, echoed through the cave.