Baba Yaga's Apprentice

Enter the clearing where the shadows have teeth, And see the dark magic that pulses beneath. This is no fable for the faint or the young, But a song of the ancient, in ink-black tongue. Within these pages, the Mother awaits, To lead you through forests and iron-bound gates. Between the sharp verses of lesson and loss, Lie the paths that a student is frightened to cross. Bring your own color to the Sea Prince’s scale, And tint the thin veneer of the holiday veil. From the cliffside fortress to the Hollow Hearth’s chill, The beauty is yours to command—if you will. A ledger of wisdom, of grit, and of bone, For the weary, the wise, and the standing-alone. Meditate on the lines, let the poetry flow, And color the secrets that only witches know.