Acceptance

by Katie Lewis

Dear Sasha,

Let me tell you a story. I think you’ll like it. And I hope at the end of it, you’ll forgive me.

So. Once upon a time, there were two brothers – Maksim and Aleksandr – who lived on an island with their tribe.  The island was just like the ones we dreamed of visiting – sparkling blue sea, beautiful white beaches, and perfect weather – and each day was filled with fun and adventure.

Until …

One day, Maksim was scavenging on the beach when he heard a screech. Startled, the teenager looked up to see dozens of small black creatures flying towards him. Before he could react, the creatures attacked. Vicious claws and jutting fangs struck flesh, drawing blood and curating lumps where none were before.

But Maksim was a chieftain’s son and knew how to fight. Swiftly, he drew his sword and swung hard until–

“Impressive.”

Panting, Maksim turned and startled, for stood there was the Bogatyr and his mighty steed, Cyzarine. Taller than any man had a right to be and clad from head to toe in heavy black armour, the Bogatyr was said to roam the world, finding people to take to his lands for purposes unknown. It was said that once taken you never returned. And once chosen, you were always taken.

But Maksim was nearly a man grown and would not be cowed; bleeding and bruised, he stood tall and said, “Bogatyr.”

The giant looked past him, at the dead creatures. “Gremlin scouts,” he said, voice a low rumble. “Their brethren will follow.”

The teenager paled. “What? Why?”

The Bogatyr shrugged. “Not all things have reason or blame. It is not your concern anyway. For I have come for you.”

“No!” The cry escaped Maksim before he could stop himself. He swallowed. “If gremlins are coming, I must fight. My tribe will need me.” The Bogatyr was silent. “I need more time.”

The Bogatyr considered. “If you stay,” he said slowly, “your magician’s spells can protect the island, but you must act as touchstone. It will be the worst thing you ever experience. My lands, on the other hand, contain no suffering. You would be free there.”

For a second, Maksim was tempted.

But.

“I can’t.”

The Bogatyr nodded. “I respect that.” He took a horseshoe, tiny in his gauntleted palm, from Cyzarine’s saddlebag. “But time is earned. I will set you three tasks. Fail and you come to my lands when I say. Pass and you come only when you are ready.

The horseshoe was cold in Maksim’s hand. “What must I do?”

“First, accept your magician’s requests. She will make you give up something you love. Do so. When you have passed or failed, the horseshoe will burn to signal my coming. If you pass, I will assign your second task.”

Maksim nodded. “I won’t fail.”

The Bogatyr said nothing. With a gulp, Maksim turned and began to run.

#

Maksim’s parents were terrified when he told them what had happened. They hugged him tightly, lips brushing hair and cheeks. Aleksandr hugged him, too, but at age seven, he did not understand the seriousness of what had occurred.

“You must do what you can,” his father said. “We can’t lose you to the Bogatyr. Not at sixteen. We refuse.”

Maksim nodded. “He said to speak to Elena. That her spells could help.”

“Then let’s go,” his mother whispered. “Now.”

Together, they went to the magician’s hut. Gravely, Elena listened as Maksim explained.

“The gremlins are like a cancer,” she said slowly. “They will not stop until everyone here has fallen apart. The Bogatyr was correct: I can ward this island if I use one who has drawn gremlin blood. But this magic is a terrible thing. You’d need to come here each day. You will feel sick and drained. The gremlin scouts will attack you daily but you can only fight them alone. The injuries they inflict may devour your strength and my spells might not stop or reverse that. Your life may become unliveable even if we win.”

His mother gulped a sob. His father’s knuckles were white.

“I’ll do it,” Maksim said.

“One more thing,” Elena said. “The magic requires something of you. Your hair. It will fall out naturally as the spells progress but you can give it now if you prefer.”

Maksim put a hand to his hair, shocked, for the weavings and knots in a man’s long hair told his story. To cut it was to imply–

It didn’t matter. This was the Bogatyr’s first task. And Maksim would not fail.

“Cut it.” His voice was rough. “I’ll tackle this head-on.”

“As you wish.”

“Cut mine too,” his father said. “So my son doesn’t stand alone.”

“And mine,” added his mother. “We do this together.”

Maksim nearly cried. But crying was weakness, so he nodded silent thanks.

Hesitantly, Aleksandr said, “Do I have to cut mine?”

Maksim turned to him. “No.” He forced a smile. “Keep growing it, OK?”

Aleksandr frowned but agreed.

Soon enough, Maksim and his parents were bald. They went to the village to explain what had happened to the tribe. Several people, moved by what had occurred, offered to cut their hair in solidarity. Others assured Maksim he still looked handsome.

And faced with such love, what could Maksim be other than brave?

#

The next day, the spells began. For two hours, Maksim sat with Elena. Within minutes, he felt sick. Within an hour, every part of him ached. By two, he could barely keep his eyes open.

His father caught him as he stumbled out. Behind them, Aleksandr watched, fear etched on every part of his face.

Maksim forced a smile. “I should go to the beach. Elena says the gremlins will come for me soon and I can only fight them alone.”

“Can I watch?” asked Aleksandr.

Maksim shook his head. “No. Stay here, OK?”

Aleksandr pouted but nodded. Maksim took a breath, stood back from his father, and nearly fell. He closed his eyes. Counted to three.

The tribe watched silently, fearful, so, Maksim smiled and began to walk, proclaiming that he would return soon. He kept it up even as the sun’s pleasant heat burned his bare head and the once refreshing sea-salt air made him nauseous.

As the magician had predicted, the gremlin scouts came. Again, Maksim fought and again, despite his nausea and weakness, Maksim won. He returned home immediately, smiling despite the pain. Cheerily, he gave everyone a thumbs-up. Then he went to his room, lay down, and slept for the rest of the day.

#

Elena had assured everyone that, for now, only Maksim was at risk of attacks, and so normal life could continue. So, after seven days, as he did each week, Aleksandr asked Maksim to go swimming. But for Maksim, every day was filled with draining magic and gremlin fights – he was so tired, he could barely move. He said no. Aleksandr scowled and walked away. Maksim felt terrible.

That night, the horseshoe burned. Maksim’s heartbeat sped up as he walked onto the beach and found the Bogatyr waiting. Even through that impenetrable armour, Maksim could feel his gaze.

“I did it,” Maksim said, voice rough. “I did everything Elena asked.”

“You did,” the Bogatyr rumbled. He turned towards the ocean and gestured. Maksim turned, too. Under the moon’s glow, he could see hundreds of blue winged creatures.

“The brethren,” he said. “If your magician fails or you fail your tasks, they will come. They are not like your scouts. Instead of bodily weakness, your loved ones will choke on loss and misery until everything falls apart. That is what your magician wards against.”

“Then I can’t leave,” Maksim said tiredly. “What’s next?”

The Bogatyr nodded. “The spells and fights will take their toll. You will be avoided. Lonely. Limited. You must accept this.”

“Sounds grim,” Maksim said, trying to smile.

“As I said,” the giant said, mounting Cyzarine, “this is the worst thing you will ever experience. But if you wish to help your tribe, this is what will be.”

The Bogatyr galloped away. Slowly, Maksim returned to the village.

He was tired.

But he was a chieftain’s son.

And he would not give in.

#

At first, all Maksim wanted to do after his fights was sleep. Everything took effort. Even sleeping, his body lost weight and his mind became foggy. But weeks went by and somehow, Maksim fell into a routine. Wake up; go to Elena; fight gremlins. On some days, by the end, he could barely stand; on others, it felt simply routine and he found, to his surprise, that he still had energy left.

He took advantage. He spent time with Aleksandr, feeling bad about their missed plans. He helped his father make weapons, cooked meals with his mother. And in the evenings, he attended the fireside gatherings.

It started subtly. He’d approach his friends and conversation would quieten. People would glance nervously at his bald head and too-slim body, as though worried that they too would be attacked. Some spoke loudly, as if his hearing was damaged; or too carefully, refusing to even mention his recent trials. Eventually, the conversation would die out. Only Danil and Marat, his best friends since early childhood, treated him normally.

But Maksim was sixteen and nearly a man. He smiled as he endured the magic and gremlins. He played with Aleksandr when he could, weathering his tantrums when he could not. He helped his parents with their tasks, fumbling at once-simple tasks and pretending to laugh it off. He went out with Danil and Marat, ignoring how his breath caught too often. He pretended not to mind how the tribe’s conversation and laughter swirled around him, no longer inviting him in; how the people he’d once thought loved him seemed scared to see him so tired and unwell.

It was OK, he thought. His family needed him here. He would endure this. He would accept this life.

Yet the horseshoe did not burn.

Until one night, after the fireside discussion had ended, Aleksandr crept into Maksim’s room.

“Maksim?” he said. “Why didn’t you stay tonight?”

“Just tired,” Maksim lied.

Aleksandr came closer. “What’s wrong?”

Aleksandr had always been good at intuiting his brother’s mood and this was no exception.

“Nothing.”

“But you look so sad!”

Maksim opened his mouth.

And began to cry.

Immediately, Aleksandr was there, hugging his brother’s skeleton body tightly.

“I’m sorry, Sashenka,” Maksim said, sniffing. “I’m just tired. I’m always sick and only Danil and Marat speak to me and … I feel so alone. Especially out there. I can’t do anything. I can’t even swim with you. And I have to bear it, I know, but it’s hard.”

Aleksandr gripped him tighter. “It’ll be OK,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Maksim said again. “I shouldn’t cry.”

“Oh, Maksim,” said a voice from the doorway. The boys looked up. Their mother stood there, red-eyed. “I had no idea you felt this way. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Maksim sniffed. “Because I have to be strong. Like Father – he never complains.”

“He does,” she said, softly, walking towards him. “He complains to me and to his friends.” She paused. “He cries too. After you told us you’d met the Bogatyr, he cried as soon as we were alone.”

Maksim gaped.

“Nobody can be strong forever,” she said. “Let us help you.”

“But I don’t want to burden you. I saw how you looked when I said the Bogatyr came for me.”

“Because we love you, Maksim, and don’t want you hurt. But we’re your family.” She kissed his forehead. “We tackle things together.”

He looked at her.

“Mother,” he said, tears welling up. “I’m struggling. Badly.”

Her arms cradled him. “Talk to me.”

#

They spoke late into the night, of all Maksim’s fears and insecurities and pains. Afterwards, when the family was asleep, the horseshoe burned. Dutifully, Maksim went to the beach.

“Why now?” he said to the waiting Bogatyr.

“Because,” the Bogatyr’s voice rumbled, “you confessed your loneliness.” 

He looked away. “I was weak.”

“No,” the Bogatyr said, startling him. “It takes strength to admit your vulnerabilities and courage to accept them. You have passed the second task.”

Maksim swallowed. “I … do feel better. Talking about it. Not pretending everything’s fine.” A breath. “What now?”

“Now is the hardest task of all. When your loved ones are ready, accept it. For nothing lasts forever and sometimes, the only thing you can do is let go.”

Maksim frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I know.” The Bogatyr knelt; Maksim could see flickering light through that faceplate. “You will. I’m sorry, Maksim. I truly am.”

He stood and mounted Cyzarine. Puzzled, Maksim returned home, and slept.

#

Maksim was not OK.

More gremlins appeared each day. He tired more easily, he ached more, and often, his only relief was from sleeping.

It frustrated him. Once, he had been fit and powerful; now, he struggled to catch his breath after mere minutes. But to admit that was to admit that he might never recover his strength. That it might worsen until he barely functioned, until it was no life at all.  

And so, he kept going.

But one day, as Danil and Marat sat with him while he recovered from a dizzy spell, Danil said, “You can’t continue this way.”

“I have to,” Maksim said.

The boys traded looks. Marat placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not if you went with the Bogatyr. In his lands, they say there’s no suffering.”

“But my parents need me here. My brother needs me. How could I leave them?”

“By trusting us,” Danil said softly. “We could check on your parents until they knew how to live without you. We could look after Aleksandr, make sure he grows up happy and well. Nobody wants you to suffer this way, Max. And you know it.”

Maksim said nothing. Their words, however, rattled through his mind and when, the next day, Elena told him the spells were nearly complete, he knew before she spoke that the damage done to him was permanent; that he would only worsen. She gripped his hand in silent apology as tears slid down his face.

That night, his mother found him at the beach, looking at the palm trees. Quietly, he said, “I wanted to help them grow. Provide more shade and food. But …”

His mother’s eyes welled with tears.

Maksim looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said. She took a breath. “It’s time and past to accept what must be. Leave if you must, Maksim. I promise I’ll plant so many trees that generations will see this beach and know your name.” She kissed his forehead. “Go with my blessing, son.”

Maksim hugged her tightly.

The next day, he returned from his fight, bleeding in a hundred different places. His father was waiting.

Maksim said, “My sword, Father. Sashenka always wanted one like it. I … don’t think I’ll be able to use it after this. And my fishing gear could go to next door. And-”

His father’s knuckles tightened.

“I’m sorry,” Maksim said. “I shouldn’t-”

“No,” his father said. He drew breath. “It’s time, isn’t it? You’ve stayed here so long for us, and I see how you struggle to hold on. Leave if you need to. I’ll ensure your belongings go to those who need them most, so that generations will feel your love.” He kissed Maksim’s forehead. “Go with my blessing, son.”

Maksim hugged him tightly.

That day was a seventh day and Aleksandr was waiting. Maksim could already feel darkness ebbing at his vision.

“I’m sorry, Sashenka,” he said, throat tight. “I don’t think I can. Not today.”

Aleksandr nodded. He held out a hand. Maksim took it and let his brother lead him to his bed.

“It’s OK,” Aleksandr said quietly. “I’ll tell you about the sea. It’ll be like we were really there.”

“Sasha …” Maksim swallowed. “I’m sorry. You deserve a better brother.”

Aleksandr smiled sadly. “Who could be better than you, Max?”

And so, Maksim fell asleep to the sound of his brother’s tale. When he woke, Aleksandr was gone. His father sat nearby.

“Son,” he said softly. “Elena says the spells are complete.”

“I know.” Maksim swallowed. “Father?”

“Yes?”

“The Bogatyr’s coming.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I passed his task.”

“It may not matter,” his father said. “The Bogatyr comes for everyone eventually.”

“He does?”

“He does. We do not talk of it for once someone is gone, they do not come back. And a world without those we love is … incomprehensible. But still that world eventually exists. Regardless of our wishes.”

Maksim nodded. “When I go,” he said slowly, “I want Aleksandr to understand what happened. So, he knows I didn’t just go. Could you … write it for me?”

“Of course.” 

So, Maksim talked and his father diligently wrote every word.

And 

The truth is

I don’t know how Maksim’s story ends. 

I hope that when the Bogatyr came, Maksim stood strong and proud. I hope that Maksim’s brother forgave him. I hope the island survived. But I don’t know. All I know is: Maksim loved his family very much. He fought to stay with them and when he knew leaving was inevitable, he held on until they were ready to say goodbye. He deserved that happy ending.

I doubt I’ve been as brave or strong as Maksim. I guess I’ll never know though. Because if you’re reading this, then cancer beat me. And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t want to leave. I guess sometimes things just … end. And sometimes, they end too early.

You’ll be OK, Aleksandr. You’ll grow up strong and happy. You’ll do everything we used to dream of and you’ll do it well. And even if you don’t, that’s OK. I’ll be proud of you anyway. I promise.

I love you, little brother.

Forgive me.

Max