Let me begin today by telling you about a woman. Her name is Baba Yaga, or Baba Yaga. Much like human nature and our own capacity for both good and evil, Baba Yaga too is both. Sometimes she is kind, charitable, helpful if you're good and if you earn her help.

But if you are bad or you fail her tasks as the legend goes, well, she is far from the sweet old lady. Picture yourself in the land of her legend

in the snows of the Russian Ural Mountains. You've been walking for days when you find

far in the distance what looks like a hut at the edge of the woods, but it's not like any hut you've ever seen.

This hut looks unnaturally tall, like it's on stilts.

At least it's surrounded by, are those lights?

And you're exhausted from your journey.

You draw closer.

After all, it is cold.

As you step nearer, you notice first the glow from what you thought were lamp posts, but they're not lamp posts at all.

They're illuminated human skulls.

And that strangely tall hut, it's not on stilts,

but has chicken legs growing from the bottom of its structure.

Upon recognizing this hut as that of Baba Yaga from Slavic legend, you recoil in horror

at the recollection not of her bony legs, though those are associated with her potentially hellish origin, but of her teeth.

You see the sweet grandmother figure of the helpful Baba Yaga

can be replaced with an old crone with a long nose and vacant eyes

and her smile.

In your mind's eye, you can see her lips creep up at the corners of her mouth, bending upward ever so slightly to reveal the iron spikes for teeth that are used to devour children and to grind human bones to dust.

No, you tell yourself.

Stories like those aren't real,

but you soon realize evil is.

...