Nemaiza

Spring tries to summon the memory of warmth to keep her steady, but it is feeble and fades in and out.

She clasps her hands together, allowing the brightness to all but blind her, and implores Summer to let her pass safely through her...

It is by chance that Spring hears the truth of Winter’s death. The villagers no longer hold the festival of Turning in her name...

The world is at odds with itself. She knows it even before she opens her eyes. The air is not so cold...

She dreams of Winter. His blue eyes, his frosted beard, the hint of softness beneath the frozen exterior and hard lines made by...

Time moves on and so does Spring. She readies the land until it is bursting with rich nutrients and oversees from afar the ploughing...

It is a beautiful crown – perhaps her favourite of all the thousands she has crafted over the...

Dawn breaks with its usual chorus of birdsong, but today it is accompanied by the pitiful weeping of a mother...

She turns from the shrine with flowers in hand and continues down the mountainside. Her cloak trails behind in the snow...

A high wind gathers up her skirts and wraps them tight about her legs, tears through the braid of her hair...

She feels the moment his rule ends like a thousand bolts of light to the heart, and they break her from her dawn reverie...

The final days of winter pass in a haze of pale mornings she never sees, cold nights she hardly feels and, towards the end, an array of...

We run when the mortals enter the wood. They come with their hounds, whose unnatural yowling fills our ears with nightmares...

Though the trees grew dense around me, I felt exposed. My heart fluttered at every rustle in the undergrowth, every caw of the crows...

This story was inspired by the artwork of Milena Mitkova. Check out her Etsy shop and Instagram to see more of her gorgeous art! “It will...

Once upon a time, I was told to wait for a prince to come and rescue me from my tower and so I did...

Today, the world beyond her balcony is a vibrant forest flooded with sunlight and birdsong. It is a stark contrast to the cold...

She stumbles over a root buried in the snow. The permafrost beneath the soft powder is hard and uneven underfoot...