It was summer, the air smelled of warm grass and sweet fruit, and Nika—then still a small, shy girl with blond hair tied in two loose braids—was playing by the stream outside the village. The water gurgled, and small pebbles glittered beneath her feet. It was there, in the shade of the old willows, that she first met Diomedes.

He was not much older than her, but even then there was something… intense in his gaze. Blue eyes, so clear and bright they seemed to reflect the entire sky, stared at her unblinkingly. He held a twig in his hands, which he tapped on the water, creating small swirls.

“Who are you?” she asked cautiously.

“Diomedes.” He smiled, and there was something childish and strangely serious in that smile. “Will you play with me?”

From that day on, he came every day. They ran through the fields together, climbed trees, and in the evenings sat by the fence and talked about things that children understand in their own way—the stars, the animals.

One day, as the sun was setting, Diomedes handed her a flower, and then—suddenly and without warning—he whispered, "I love you, Nika. And I will love you forever."

She froze. She wasn't ready. She felt something stir within her, but the feeling was too heavy, too… binding. The next day she didn't come to the stream. Or the day after that. And just like that, she ran away from that friendship.

Years passed. Diomedes grew up in the shadow of his father—the king of the Bistons, a stern man who believed that love was weakness and loyalty was earned through fear. When he saw his son walking sadly, he gave him four little foals. But these horses were no ordinary horses. They were beautiful, strong… and wild. Their eyes had a strange, steely gleam, and their breath was hot like steam rising from boiling water.

The first person who tried to tend to them made a mistake. A servant, who ignored warnings, entered their stalls without Diomedes's permission. In the morning, only the remains of his clothes and blood on the wooden beams were found. From then on, the horses were fed differently. The king taught his son that these creatures needed… human flesh.

Diomedes was initially shocked. But he quickly realized he could use this as a tool. Disobedient people, traitors, criminals—all those who aroused his anger ended up in the stable. And the horses grew. Their teeth became sharp, long, like the fangs of a predator.

Nika returned to her home village. But someone remembered.

Diomedes.

First, she saw the small things. Small gifts appeared on her doorstep—dried flowers, even a silver hairpin that looked precious. Then the letters began, written in even, careful handwriting. Requests to meet. Assurances that he missed her.

She didn't respond. She was afraid. Afraid of what might be hidden in his words. And above all, she was afraid that if she approached, he would eventually hurt her… or betray her.

That evening, he knocked on her door.

"Nika..." his voice was soft, almost pleading. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

He said they were horses. Four stallions. She loved horses. Curiosity overcame fear.

The stable was large, made of dark wood. Inside, it smelled of hay, but somewhere beneath that layer was another scent—metallic, heavy, like the scent of blood.

The four stallions stood still, each in its own stall. Their legs were bound with chains that clanked whenever one moved. They were beautiful—shiny manes, muscular bodies… but their eyes were cold, and when they opened their mouths, Nika saw the glint of sharp, inhuman teeth.

Then she noticed something on the ground. A hand. A human hand, bitten and bloody.

Her heart sank in her chest.

“Diomedes… what is it…?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he approached her slowly, from behind. His arms wrapped tightly around her, as if afraid she would escape. He pressed his face against her neck.

“Mine…” he whispered. “My beloved Nika…”