In Between
A divided vision—where good and evil reflect each other in one being
Not everything that harms arrives as a threat. Some things come gently, familiar, inviting, almost kind.
Inspired by the visual dissonance of anaglyph, this series dwells in the fragile space where opposites collapse into one another. Red and blue do not simply divide; they bleed, misalign, and refuse to settle, revealing a world where protection and danger share the same body.
Drawn from Slavic myth, these figures do not exist as villains or guardians, but as shifting presences, watching, calling, pulling, each offering something that feels safe, until it no longer is. There is no clear moment of transformation, no visible rupture between good and bad. Only a slow realization that the two were never separate to begin with.
Baba Yaga [Баба-Яга]
She does not promise safety, nor does she guarantee harm.
Baba Yaga exists within the shifting space between destruction and transformation, where every encounter becomes a test. Feared as a devourer yet sought as a guide, her presence offers no certainty, only consequence. To cross her path is not to choose a fate, but to face what you are willing to lose.
Rusalka [русалка]
She does not chase, she waits.
Drawn from water and loss, the Rusalka calls not with force, but with quiet invitation. Her beauty is not meant to deceive, but it pulls, softly, persistently, until resistance fades.
Kikimora [кикимора]
She lingers where a home begins to decay, not in its walls, but in its silence.
The Kikimora thrives in disorder, in restless nights and unspoken tension. Her presence is not always seen, but it is felt. She does not destroy all at once. She wears it down, thread by thread, until nothing remains of what once felt like home.
Koschei the Deathless [Коще́й]
He cannot be killed, only undone.
The Koschei exists beyond the limits of the body, his life hidden far from reach, buried within layers of distance and impossibility. Greed and cruelty define him, yet his greatest power lies not in strength, but in persistence.
Sirin [Сирин]
Her voice is beautiful enough to be trusted.
The Sirin does not threaten, she invites. Her song carries something beyond sound, dissolving memory, softening will, until nothing remains but the desire to listen. There is no struggle, no fear, only surrender. And in that quiet acceptance, everything is lost.
Domovoy [домовой]
He watches from the corners of the home, unseen yet ever-present.
A guardian when respected, a tormentor when forgotten, the Domovoy exists within the fragile balance of care and neglect. He protects the household, tending to what is loved, yet his presence turns restless when harmony is broken. In this space, safety is not guaranteed. What shelters can also threaten, and what feels familiar may quietly turn against you.
What you trust may already be turning against you. What you fear may be something else entirely. And perhaps the most dangerous part is the moment you fail to notice it.
Illustrated by Amanda Jasmine Sekar Lian Mumpuni
