Scene 1: The Throne of Moss
The forest had grown strangely quiet.
And there was a young man moving through the thick misty forest; it was none other than Varun. His ocean-blue bomber jacket had been redesigned for the northern cold, its reinforced sleeves still carrying the wave-like patterns that had always been part of his style, now bordered by subtle geometric stitching inspired by Pskov craftsmanship. Beneath it he wore the same white collarless pullover, while slightly longer shorts over dark thermal leggings preserved the agile style he preferred. His modern slip-on shoes had been reinforced with sturdier soles suited for the forest trails, and the familiar cyan cap remained on his head, its strange lion-like creature with a horse's head and spiraled tail still stitched across the front. On the back of his jacket, however, was something new—the same Dragon emblem worn by Avi and Yudhir, marking him as one of the Dragon Fury.
Varun walked alone beneath the towering trees following the figure that had appeared among the mist moments ago. He could still see it ahead of him moving silently between the trunks, never quite allowing him to get close enough to see its face.
It had the shape of a humanoid. There was something deeply unnatural about its appearance. Enormous antlers rose above its head, spreading like the branches of a tree, while moss and vines covered portions of its body. Some of the greenery seemed to grow from its form, blending with the surrounding vegetation until it became difficult to tell where the Guardian ended and the forest began.
For a moment Varun wondered if the forest itself had taken a humanoid shape and was simply watching him.
The strange figure never attacked.
It simply continued walking.
Varun followed.
The deeper they went, the more difficult the ground became. The trees grew thicker, their roots rising from the earth like fingers. Fog clung low to the forest floor, hiding the ground beneath it. Times Varun noticed dark patches of water between the trees, some little more than puddles, others stretching into broad pools whose depths he could not see.
The wetlands.
He slowed down as he noticed how easily someone could wander into one without realizing it.
The Guardian seemed to know exactly where it was going.
It never stepped into the patches. Instead, it moved along stretches of firm ground between them, occasionally stopping just long enough for Varun to notice the safer path ahead.
Varun's eyebrows rose.
"So that's what you've been doing," he muttered.
The Guardian wasn't simply leading him deeper into the forest.
It was keeping him away from the bogs.
Varun followed the path it showed him, stepping carefully where the Guardian had stepped before. Despite his confidence, he even understood that falling into one of those wetlands would be an embarrassing way to disappear.
Eventually the trees opened slightly.
A rocky formation emerged through the fog.
At first Varun saw nothing about it. Then the Guardian stopped.
It turned toward a section of rock completely concealed by vines and mist.
The Guardian reached out.
The vines shifted.
Behind them was an opening.
A cave.
Varun stared at it.
The Guardian looked back at him.
Then without saying a word, it entered.
Varun stood outside for a moment.
"Well," he said to himself, "I suppose that's an invitation."
He stepped forward.
The moment he entered the cave, the Guardian disappeared into the darkness.
Varun blinked.
"Hey!"
There was no answer.
He took another step.
Then another.
Suddenly—
The ground vanished beneath his feet.
"WHOA—!"
Varun dropped through the floor.
His stomach lurched as the darkness swallowed him.
"Okay! Definitely wasn't expecting that!"
He slid downward.
Downward.
Downward.
The narrow passage twisted beneath the earth, sending him sliding into the mountain like some bizarre underground rollercoaster.
Varun tried to grab the walls. The smooth stone gave him nothing to hold.
"This was a move!"
He clenched his teeth as another turn sent him spinning.
"Yudhir is going to give me an earful for this!"
The thought almost made him laugh despite the situation.
Almost.
Then he saw the tunnel dropping sharply again.
"Oh come on!"
Varun quickly extended his hands.
Water surged around his body.
His Zhivava responded immediately, forming a structure around him. A thick layer of water wrapped around his body, cushioning him from the stone as he continued sliding downward.
The tunnel seemed to go on.
Eventually, however, the darkness ahead began to brighten.
Varun narrowed his eyes.
Then—
Splash!
He shot out of the tunnel. Landed on the cavern floor.
The cylindrical water structure collapsed around him, splashing across the stone before spreading into streams.
Varun remained still for a moment.
Then he slowly raised his head.
His expression changed.
He had expected another underground passage.
Instead, he found himself standing inside a cavern that looked almost like a hidden chamber.
The walls were illuminated by luminous plants growing between the rocks. Their soft light spread across the cavern, revealing layers of stone, roots, and moss that disappeared into the darkness above.
Varun slowly stood up.
"Okay…"
He looked around.
"This is actually pretty amazing."
The Guardian was here.
It sat silently in the middle of the chamber.
Before it stood three thrones.
The Guardian occupied the one.
Varun stared at the sight before him, his curiosity overcoming the embarrassment of his unexpected entrance.
The Guardian looked at him.
"I apologize," it said.
Its voice was deep and ancient, carrying strangely through the cavern.
"I had to bring you through that path. Otherwise the location of this cavern might have been revealed to the fog."
Varun looked back toward the tunnel through which he had fallen.
He sighed.
"Fair enough."
He brushed some dampness from his jacket.
"There are important things to worry about anyway."
His eyes returned to the Guardian.
"So... Who are you?"
The Guardian remained silent for a moment.
"My name is Vort."
The name echoed softly through the cavern.
"I am the Forest Guardian of the Mansi tribe."
Varun's expression became more attentive.
"Mansi…"
He remembered the events surrounding the forest and the young boy they had found.
Vort continued.
"I was one of the three Guardians who founded the Three River Circle. With the other two Guardians, I helped bring the three tribes together."
Varun listened carefully.
He understood the words individually.
The history behind them was another matter.
There were many tribes, Guardians, agreements, and ancient events to untangle all at once.
He rubbed the back of his head.
"So... The three tribes came together because of an agreement?"
"Yes."
Varun nodded slowly.
He wasn't entirely sure he understood everything.
He understood one thing.
Vort needed something from them.
It reminded him of what had happened with Simargl in Pskov.
"You need our help, don't you?"
Vort's eyes rested upon him.
Varun continued.
"I'll be honest. Yudhir is much better at figuring out stories, hidden meanings, and plans. If you started explaining some agreement from hundreds of years ago, he'd probably understand it before I did."
He gave a smile.
"I'll still help however I can."
His expression became serious.
"If you're trustworthy."
For the time Vort smiled.
There was something almost amused in his expression.
"You are not afraid."
Varun tilted his head.
"Should I be?"
Vort studied him silently.
It had been ages since the Guardian had encountered someone who could stand before his form without fear.
There was something else.
Something familiar.
He could feel it around Varun.
An influence that did not belong to the forest.
An influence Vort knew well.
"Tell me," Vort said. "What happened to Simargl?"
Varun's expression changed.
"You know Simargl?"
Vort lowered his head slightly.
"I knew him."
Varun then began telling him everything.
He told Vort about their arrival in Pskov, the events that had unfolded there, the trials they had faced, and how Simargl had helped them. He explained how the Guardian had tested them and how they had fought to prove themselves worthy.
He spoke of the gift they had received afterward.
He told him about their ability to sense Zhivava.
Finally he told him what had happened to Simargl.
Vort listened without interrupting.
When Varun finished, the ancient guardian lowered his head.
The luminous plants continued glowing around them.
For moments Vort said nothing.
Then he closed his eyes.
A silent prayer passed through the cavern.
Not only for Simargl.
But also for Alkonost, the Guardian of Novgorod.
Two of the Guardians were gone.
Vort remained still for a moment, remembering them.
When he finally raised his head, the sadness in his expression had not disappeared.
"There is a danger approaching," he said.
Varun's expression hardened.
"What kind of danger?"
Vort looked directly at him.
"Your friends must know."
He paused.
"The Guardians of Pskov and Novgorod have passed."
His voice became quieter.
"Now... Karachun is trying to escape."
Scene 2: The Three Keepers
Vort sat back on the central throne, his great antlers throwing odd shadows on the glowing cavern walls. Varun waited for the Guardian to continue, struggling to get his head around everything he'd just heard.
There was something in Vort's expression that made him believe the Guardian was going to make things harder than he already was.
So Vort leaned back.
Perhaps this is all getting too complicated.
Varun raised his eyebrow.
I don't think that will be a problem.
There was something oddly human about the slight smile the moss-covered figure gave him.
Then he said,
Perhaps listen to an older story.
Varun lowered himself onto the cavern floor.
A story?
Yes. Sometimes the oldest stories can contain the oldest truths.
Varun nodded.
Fair enough.
Vort looked at the plants on the cavern walls. The plants' soft light made shadows seem to dance across the floor.
Long before Pskov had its walls and long before Novgorod became the city of a thousand markets, there were no borders here.
Vort's voice echoed around the chamber.
No roads divided the forests, and no banners showed where one kingdom ended and another began. The land between the mountains and the great northern waters was home to three ancient peoples.
Varun listened.
The River People lived alongside the great waters.
The forest people made their home beneath the great canopy and
Vort's gaze lingered on the cavern walls.
The people of the mountains lived where the land met the sky.
They all spoke different tongues, followed different paths, and prayed to different spirits.
Vort's mouth tightens.
And for many centuries they did not trust each other.
Varun nodded.
Sounds familiar.
Vort gave him a long look.
Maybe people do not change as much as they think they do.
Varun smiled.
The First Keeper—The River
The hunter followed the white bear to the source of the Great River. He raised his spear, but the animal did not run.
Instead, it stood on the riverbank and gazed towards the sky.
The hunter lowered his weapon. The bear spoke.
'You hunt on the river but do not own it.'
Vort's voice almost sounded sad.
'Then who does?'
The hunter asked.
For a moment, Vort's hand hovered over his throne and rested on the carved stone armrest.
'Whoever came before you.'
The bear dipped a paw in the river and walked upstream. The hunter followed, and at the river source beneath a great stone, he found the place where the water came from the earth. On the stone was a mark that looked like a paw print.
Vort stared into the stone walls of the cave.
The bear spoke again.
'The river carries the memories of the world. Take only what you need, and it will carry your descendants.'
The hunter returned to his people, and from then on his descendants became the keepers of the rivers.
Varun nodded.
That one I understand.
Vort smiled.
Good.
The Second Keeper—The Forest
But the Forest People did not believe the River People.
They believed the rivers belonged to the forest.
So the hunters of the forest followed it into the woods until they came across a place where no humans had ever walked.
There they saw an old man.
"He had no footprints."
His beard was covered in moss, his clothes were made from bark, and when he walked...
Vort glanced at the cavern walls.
... the trees moved with him.
Varun looked around, half expecting to see movement.
The hunters of the forest knew they had seen a forest spirit. The spirit looked on them and said,
'You call it wilderness because you have forgotten its names.'
He placed a hand on an ancient tree.
'Every tree remembers a hunter.'
He touched the dirt.
'Every stone remembers a dead man.'
Then he placed his hand on the river.
'... And every river remembers the forest through which it passes.'
The spirit offered the hunters a choice. They could banish the River People and take the waterways for their own or they could become their guardians.
Vort hesitated.
The hunters chose the second option.
The Forest Spirit told them a law.
'When you enter the forest, enter as a guest.' And so the people became the keepers of the woodland.
Varun turned to look at the trees outside the cave.
That sounds like something the Mansi would still say.
It is.
The Third Keeper—The Mountain
The Mountain People heard what the River and Forest People had done and laughed.
They believed the mountains were older than either of the other two peoples. So the greatest warrior among them climbed the highest peak and challenged the spirit of the mountain. He fought the spirit for three days and three nights, but on the morning of the fourth day, he found an old guardian sitting on the peak. The guardian did not challenge him but instead asked:
'Why did you climb?'
The warrior answered.
'To prove that I am stronger than the mountain."
Vort's expression softened.
The guardian smiled.
'And what will you do when you have proved it?'
The warrior could not answer.
So the guardian showed him something from his throne. Beneath him stretched the forests. Beyond them the rivers flowed, and beyond the rivers were the lands of other peoples. The warrior understood.
Vort's voice almost sounded like a whisper.
The mountain was not for conquering. It was for watching over everything beneath it. The warrior climbed back down, and his people became the keepers of the mountain and the passageways between.
Varun was quiet for a moment.
So each people guarded a different feature of the land.
Vort nodded.
The Rivers.
The Forests.
The Mountains.
And for a while the people thought that was enough.
Vort's voice grew darker.
It wasn't.
The Great Winter
At some point during one winter something came through the northern wilderness.
Not a tribe. Not an army. Not an animal.
Something the oldest spirits named simply...
The Devourer of Paths.
The plants flickered as Vort's voice grew colder.
Where it passed rivers froze under a summer sun, the forests grew silent, the animals abandoned their nests, and the mountains vanished under unnatural storms. The River People tried to stop it but failed.
So did the Forest People.
The Mountain People came down from their peaks, but they too were beaten.
Then they finally understood their mistake.
Vort looked straight at Varun.
They had each been guarding only their own world.
The River People guarded the rivers, the forest guarded the forest, and the mountains guarded the mountains. But the land itself...
He slowly opened his hand.
... was a single living thing.
Varun said nothing.
The three peoples finally met where their borders met. Three rivers ran through three different lands, but they never met each other, but they all ran to the same distant waters, and that became the symbol of their agreement.
An elder from each people placed something on the ground. The River Keeper brought water, the Forest Keeper brought earth, a branch from the oldest tree, and the Mountain Keeper brought a stone from the highest peak. Water. Earth. Stone.
And the spirits of the land answered.
Vort looked towards the entrance of the cave.
The white bear came out of the forest, a great mountain bird landed on the ground, and the ancient Forest Spirit appeared among the trees. The three Guardians stood together.
The First Covenant
The three elders spoke.
'Let the river flow to the forest.
The forest to the mountain.
The mountain to the river.'
The words hung in the air for a moment before Vort's voice rang out.
'And none shall rule what belongs to all.'
Varun felt that echo settle deep inside him.
That became the first law of the Three River Circle.
It was not a kingdom, an empire, or even one tribe.
Vort looked towards the three thrones.
A circle. Because a circle has no throne.
No first seat or last seat.
Varun looked down at the throne beneath Vort.
Except you seem to have one.
For a moment there was silence in the chamber.
Vort chuckled.
It was surprising to hear such a sound coming from something that looked like it should have walked out of an ancient forest.
I was the first head of the circle.
Varun couldn't help the grin that formed on his face.
So technically there was a first seat.
Only at the beginning.
Right.
The smile left Vort's face.
Because the circle was never meant to belong to one of us.
Vort turned to look at the three thrones.
Only to all of us.
The seriousness left Varun's face as well.
And what happened to the Devourer of Paths?
Vort turned to look towards the darkness at the edge of the glowing plants.
The oldest stories give it another name.
Vort hesitated before adding:
Karachun.