Cruel

  as a wind tearing the earth apart, reason had been killed by

  bureaucracy: the two major excavation projects—meant to prove the

  Altai tribes’ connection to the spiritual world—had been

  canceled. Ksenia and Lyudmila were left desolate. Years of work

  vanished in an instant.

  Ksenia collapsed onto the desk, trembling. In her hands, her

  mother’s blue amulet pulsed faintly. Cold, translucent, yet glowing

  like ice trapped in moonlight. Father gave this to Mother before

  I was born… to protect her. And now… it’s here. With me.

  The air thickened, heavy with burned wood, damp pine, and fresh

  snow. She remembered Kalmanka: the village, pines bending under storm

  winds, her mother singing softly by the fire. A wolf’s howl ripped

  through the night. Shadows flickered from the amulet, forming shapes

  she almost recognized: her mother, Kalmanka’s ancestors, mountain

  spirits. They’re here. Watching.

  Lyudmila entered, slamming the door. Her eyes reflected the same

  despair.

  —And now… what do we do? —her voice cracked.

  —The only thing we can do —Ksenia whispered— is rise and

  keep walking. Nothing more. No more standing still.

  The amulet pulsed stronger, a shiver running down her spine. In

  that instant, the office vanished. There was only the blue light,

  Kalmanka’s snow, her mother’s voice, and wolves whispering

  through the trees. I am not alone. The strength of her

  ancestors surrounded her.

  —Can you believe they canceled both projects? —Lyudmila

  murmured. —All our work… gone.

  Ksenia closed her eyes, letting the amulet guide her. Paths,

  choices, mistakes to avoid—all appeared before her. Even in a cruel

  night, there were cracks, ways to escape despair. I can still

  find a way… I have to.

  —You’re right —Lyudmila said finally. —We have to

  continue. No matter what they take, we can still seek the truth.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The amulet pulsed once more, approving, then returned to a faint

  heartbeat. Ksenia drew a deep breath. Outside, the storm softened.

  The world seemed less hostile. But the real battle—the battle of

  the spirit—had only begun.

  She walked home from the university almost on autopilot. The

  city feels… unreal. Like I’m walking inside a thought I haven’t

  fully formed. Then a thought settled firmly: return to Kalmanka.

  To the village. To the roots. Disappear for a while. Forget

  everything. Even the captain. Especially the captain.

  She climbed the stairs quietly, not turning on the light. As the

  door closed behind her, silence greeted her like a caress, as if the

  air had waited for her.

  The curtains in the living room swayed.

  No wind. The windows

  were shut. Yet the fabric moved, slow, deliberate. An

  essence—impossible to name—slid through the room. Not a smell. A

  vibration. Goosebumps ran up her arms.

  She felt cold.

  Not winter cold.

  Dropping her coat on a chair, she stood still. Heart pounding.

  Fear arrived without warning.

  Then she saw them.

  Two envelopes.

  Ghosts demanding

  attention.

  The white envelope, torn, held excavation coordinates.

  The

  brown one, sealed. She hesitated. Should I open it? Can I?

  The secret inside called to her.

  Her mind drifted to Kalmanka.

  The taiga. Wild. Ancient. Air

  currents where hawks and eagles glide. Larches, firs, and white

  birches waking at sunset, their dark bark-eyes alive.

  She closed her eyes, walking barefoot on silver lichens and moss.

  She heard her mother:

  —Ksenia, don’t go too far! Be careful!

  She tried to return. I must… But a force pulled her

  into the forest. She resisted. But something stronger lifted her,

  almost grazing cedar tops swaying in the breeze. No… not yet.

  I’m not ready to leave.

  She reached for leaves with her fingertips. But she rose higher.

  And higher.

  Weightless. Silent. Ascending toward the universe.

  The sunlight blinded her. Earth below dissolved: forests, valleys,

  streams blurred into shifting patches of color.

  She opened her arms like a hawk, letting thermal currents lift

  her. Eternity pulsed through every cell.

  Fly. Fly.

  Black-and-white clouds swallowed the last glimpse of the earth.

  She touched tiny water particles, spinning in silk buds, opening into

  fan-like spheres.

  She was soul. No body. Only spirit, released into the silver-lit

  clouds.

  She rose past the clouds, toward the fierce, burning sun. She felt

  nothing but occasional gusts rocking her gently.

  Gusts born of the sun itself, giving weight to her flight.

  Then, just before—

  Her mother’s voice.

  And a name, vibrating in her being.

  Sora.

  It spread inside her like a plea.

  A gust.

  And she detached from the sky…

  When the phone rang.