The clouds peeled away like silk.
After so much dark, the blue of the sky felt almost unnatural. The trees no longer whispered threats. The ground no longer pulsed with hunger. For the first time in what felt like an age, they could breathe—truly breathe.
The light returned not in a burst, but in a sigh.
Veles stood tall, his form slowly returning to its mortal stillness. Though his horns and cloak remained, he seemed gentler now, as if a great weight had passed from his shoulders.
He raised his voice—not in command, but in ritual.
"By the will of the forgotten, by the Life of Rod, by the silence of Mara, by the flow of Dana… this land is whole again."
The air shimmered.
From the soil, new grass. From the branches, fresh leaves. The old wounds began to heal.
"This land is blessed and approved by all of Gods of our people."
The group—Lybid, Kyi, Yurko, the fading memory of Maksym, and the resting place of Khoryv—stood in quiet awe. Baba Yaha lit a crooked pipe and offered no jokes.
There was nothing left to say.
***
Weeks later, in the shining halls of Constantinople, Methodius and Cyril stood before the council of bishops.
Pope Simplicius had passed. A new pontiff would be chosen.
Cyril and saints were rewarded for winning the devil's garrison that attacked the saints and giving Devil the chance to break the Sanctum Lux Custodia.
Their faces were worn, their hands still trembling from the light they had wielded—but their words were clear, filled with stories not found in scripture, but no less holy.
The world would know what had nearly risen.
And what had stood to stop it.
***
Centuries later...
The flickering light of a small hearth lit a modest home atop a hill near Dnipro river.
Inside, a boy curled in a blanket beside his father, eyes wide.
"Tell me the story again," the boy begged.
The man smiled, smoothing the old scroll.
"All right. But just one more time."
He cleared his throat, voice becoming warm and low.
"Long, long ago, when forests still whispered and gods still watched, there were three brothers—Kyi, Shchek, and Khoryv—and their sister, Lybid."
"They were strong, wise, and brave. They crossed wild rivers and tamed cursed forests. And when the gods tested them, they stood as one."
"Where they chose to settle, the rivers bent like bows and the earth welcomed them."
"And so, in their honor, we built a city. The heart of our land."
The boy's eyes lit up.
The father smiled.
"Kyiv."
And outside, the stars above the city shone—clear and eternal.