The air is crisp. Suddenly, one of the girls slice, as with a knife, the air with her voice and utters aloud, as if the announcement of a vicar from the embellished pulpit:
“we are the two Auroras and the two Zorza; we are the ones who guard the winged doomsday hound in its leashes and tethers lest it break its coffles in the abysmal tantrums, and wreak loose the apocalypse upon the earth: we shall not let that happen for we are the goddesses which surveil the Polaris star, astral prison of Simargl, gluttonous beast; roaring mouth of demon-spirits with a mane of burning reed, the saw-toothed hell-lion of the abyss; we are the Zorza, or Zorya, the heavenly daughters of Dadžbóg, Solar King: we come from Buyan, the island beyond the threshold, where all weathers create themselves and where the vortexes of world has its epicentres; we are from Buyan, the origin-abyss of all schisms; Buyan is the mysterious place beyond the clouds; shape-shifter of the ocean wastes: Buyan disappears and appears with the movements of the tides; with the moon it breathes; with the sun it awakes... Buyan is the mystical oak-tree in the middle of the walled garden; the one which keeps everything inside, in, and everything outside, out. All waters of the lands are tributary to the root-system of this magnificent oak; for they run even 'neath the oceans; and in a hundred days journey in every direction. Therefrom we originate, with pride and with eloquence, but therein we did not choose to stay: our passions possessed us furthermore the bounds of old Buyan...”
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