Jaga and the Devil

The night of summer solstice, I do something stupid. Drawn to the fire of magic, I approach the gods in their sacred circle. I am just a mortal, one of many. I shouldn't merit their attention. But behind the royal figures of the gods a shadow looms, menacing yellow eyes burning in its gloom. He asks me to dance. His clawed hands circle my waist, turning me to the sound of hoofbeats while his demonic voice whispers seductive lies in my ear. For one night and one night only, I let him touch me.

I'm trapped in a world of magic and monsters, ruled by laws I don't understand, inhabited by creatures older and far more vicious than me. If I want to get anywhere, I must tame my newfound power and find allies, but in the war-ravaged Slawa, no one trusts anyone. I must prove myself, risking my life and evading the devil, even though he seems unavoidable. When the biggest powers in Slawa find out who I am, everything changes, and I learn my lesson one more time. I shouldn't have trusted the devil. But he should have learned, too. I bite so hard when I'm cornered.

I am broken. A piece of my soul burned away, leaving me hollow and unfeeling. I wander the caverns of Nawie, the only place that's not entirely unsafe. When I can't stand the boredom of a life with no meaning, I amuse myself watching Woland's pitiful attempts to atone. He grovels. He begs. He brings me gifts. His despair grows deeper with every shake of my head. Oh, how well he lies. Little does he know, nothing will make me trust him again. And if that broken part of my soul ever heals, I will rip it out and destroy it.