Scene 2: Nightmares in the Mist
The hidden mountain path grew narrower as Andry and Icha continued climbing.
It was hardly recognizable as a trail at all. Roots twisted across the ground like old ropes, patches of moss covered the stones, and low branches brushed against Andry's shoulders whenever he followed too closely behind Icha. Yet the boy moved through it with surprising confidence despite his injuries, occasionally stopping only to glance toward a particular tree, rock, or bend in the trail before continuing onward.
Andry had already lost count of how many times he would have taken the wrong direction if he had been travelling alone.
Icha, however, never hesitated.
He seemed to know the mountain the way Ruslan knew the streets of Pskov.
Andry watched him carefully as they walked.
The boy was still young—perhaps around ten—and yet there was something strangely practiced about the way he moved through the wilderness. He knew which branches could be pushed aside without making much noise. He knew where the ground became unstable beneath the moss. More than once, he had silently raised a hand to stop Andry before they reached a patch of loose stones.
Eventually, Andry stepped around another exposed root and looked at him.
"You really know this mountain, don't you?"
Icha glanced back.
"Know."
Andry smiled faintly.
"That much I figured out."
Icha turned forward again.
They walked for several more moments before Andry continued.
"You know, you don't have to keep worrying about whether I'm following you. I'm not going anywhere. At least not without you."
Icha looked over his shoulder again.
"Sure?"
Andry's expression softened.
"Yeah. I'm sure. You brought me here because your people need help, didn't you? So I'm going to help them. Whatever happened to your village, we're going to find out what caused it, and we're going to see if we can bring your people back to themselves."
Icha stared at him for a few seconds.
Then he nodded.
"Back..."
"That's right."
Andry gave him a reassuring smile.
"We'll bring them back."
The boy faced forward again.
For a while, neither spoke.
Andry didn't mind the silence.
In fact, he was beginning to understand that with Icha, silence wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. The boy simply didn't seem to use words unless he absolutely needed them. Instead, he communicated through small movements—a glance toward a particular direction, a hand raised to warn him, a nod, a shake of the head.
Andry was slowly learning to pay attention to those things.
It reminded him of Ruslan when he had been much younger.
Back then, Ruslan had barely spoken more than a few words at a time. Andry remembered sitting beside him while Ostap worked, trying to figure out what the little boy wanted simply by watching where he looked.
The memory brought a faint smile to Andry's face.
"You know, I have a little brother who used to be like you."
Icha glanced back.
"Brother?"
"Yeah. Ruslan."
Andry chuckled softly.
"He talks a lot now. Trust me, probably too much. If you ever meet him, don't let that innocent smile fool you. He'll ask you a hundred questions before you've even finished answering the first one."
Icha's expression changed slightly.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
Andry noticed.
"So you do smile."
Icha immediately looked away.
"Didn't."
Andry laughed.
"You definitely did."
"No."
"You did."
Icha shook his head.
Andry grinned.
"Fine. I'll let you win this one."
The tiny exchange disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but something had changed between them. The distance that had existed when Andry first found the boy beneath the pine roots was slowly becoming smaller.
Then Icha stopped.
Andry nearly walked into him.
"What is it?"
Icha raised one finger.
"Listen."
Andry immediately became serious.
He stood still and listened.
At first, there was nothing unusual.
Only the wind moving through the trees.
Then came another sound.
A faint crack.
Something stepping on a branch.
Andry's hand moved instinctively toward his weapon.
"How many?"
Icha slowly shook his head.
"Don't know."
Andry narrowed his eyes.
The forest ahead looked empty.
Too empty.
He lowered his stance.
"Icha, stay behind me."
The boy didn't move.
Andry glanced at him.
"I mean it. Whatever comes out of there, don't rush forward. You're injured, and we don't know how many there are."
Icha stared into the trees.
"Village..."
Andry understood immediately.
"People from your village?"
Icha nodded.
Then the first figure emerged from the trees.
A Selkup tribesman.
His clothing was torn and covered in dirt. His face was pale, and his eyes were strangely empty. Several others followed behind him, moving slowly at first before suddenly rushing forward.
Andry stepped between them and Icha.
"Stay back!"
The first attacker swung a wooden weapon.
Andry blocked it with his arm and released a burst of Ash Zhivava.
The attacker was thrown backward, crashing against a tree.
Two more came from the side.
Andry spun and swept his leg across the ground, releasing ash that spread beneath their feet. Their footing disappeared, and both stumbled.
But there were more.
Much more.
Icha stepped forward.
Andry immediately turned.
"Icha, wait!"
The boy raised his hands.
Something changed in the air around him.
Mist began forming.
But Andry immediately noticed something strange.
The mist wasn't coming from the forest.
It wasn't rising from the ground.
It wasn't gathering around the trees.
It was coming from Icha.
A faint shimmer of Zhivava moved beneath the boy's skin before spilling outward from his body.
Andry's eyes widened.
"So that's your Zhivava…"
Icha didn't answer.
The mist thickened.
Then another Icha appeared beside him.
And another.
And another.
Within seconds, the forest seemed to contain a dozen identical boys.
The possessed Selkup stopped.
They looked around in confusion.
Andry stared.
"You're creating them…"
Icha's expression remained focused.
"Mirage."
Andry understood.
His magic wasn't controlling the existing mist.
It was creating an illusion from within himself and projecting it outward.
The difference was enormous.
Andry remembered what Ruslan had once explained about the Vnutriki.
They generated Zhivava internally through spiritual will.
Now he was seeing the principle firsthand.
The illusions moved in different directions.
One ran left.
Another moved behind the trees.
A third appeared directly in front of the attackers.
The possessed Selkup swung at it.
Their weapons passed through empty air.
Andry took advantage of the confusion.
His Ash Zhivava spread across the ground, binding the legs of two attackers before he knocked them unconscious with controlled strikes.
"That's it! Keep them confused!"
Icha nodded.
But then one of the illusions suddenly changed.
Its face twisted.
Its body became distorted.
The mist around it darkened.
Andry noticed immediately.
"Icha?"
The boy stared at his own illusion.
It was no longer following his movements.
Another duplicate appeared.
Then another.
But these figures weren't copies of Icha anymore.
They were distorted shadows.
One had a face twisted in terror.
Another looked like a wounded Selkup.
Another was simply a dark silhouette with glowing eyes.
Icha stepped backward.
"No…"
Andry immediately understood.
The illusion wasn't responding to his commands anymore.
It was responding to his fear.
"Icha, look at me."
The boy didn't.
"Icha!"
His eyes remained fixed on the figures.
"Gone…"
Andry stepped closer.
"Listen to me. Those things aren't real."
Icha shook his head.
"Real…"
"No. They're coming from you."
Icha's breathing became faster.
The mist spread farther.
And suddenly Andry found himself standing in the middle of something that looked nothing like the forest they had entered.
The trees stretched impossibly high.
The path disappeared.
Every direction looked the same.
Andry heard screaming somewhere in the distance.
Then another sound.
A child crying.
His heart stopped.
"Ruslan?"
He turned.
For a moment, he saw his younger brother's younger self lying beneath a tree.
Then the image changed.
Ostap.
Then Domna.
Then Mikhail.
Each one appeared for only a moment before dissolving into mist.
Andry clenched his fists.
He knew what this was.
Fear.
His own fear had been dragged into the illusion.
And Icha's fear was doing the same.
Andry closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to breathe.
Domna's voice returned to him from memory.
Control is not the same as suppression.
He opened his eyes.
"Icha!"
The boy looked toward him.
Andry walked through the mist.
"I know you're scared. I know you don't understand what's happening, but you have to listen to me. Don't fight the illusion."
Icha stared at him.
"Fight...?"
"No. That's the problem."
Andry pointed toward the distorted figures.
"They're coming from you. Your Zhivava is responding to what's inside your mind. The more frightened you become, the more you push that fear into the world around you."
Icha's breathing remained unsteady.
Andry continued, speaking slowly.
"You don't need to destroy them. You don't need to run from them either. Just remember what they are. They're thoughts. They're afraid. They're memories. They may look real, but they aren't controlling you unless you let them."
Icha lowered his head.
"Can't…"
"Yes, you can."
Andry stepped closer.
"You don't have to control everything at once. Just control yourself. Take a breath. Feel your own Zhivava. Don't push it away. Don't force it outward. Let it settle."
Icha closed his eyes.
The mist trembled.
Andry remained beside him.
"That's it. Slowly. You're not alone here."
Icha took a shaky breath.
The distorted figures began disappearing.
One by one, the impossible trees faded.
The forest returned.
The possessed Selkup were still there, but the illusion around them had weakened.
Icha opened his eyes.
Andry smiled.
"There you go."
Icha looked at him.
"Fear…"
Andry nodded.
"Yeah. Fear."
He glanced at the surrounding forest.
"I'm scared too, you know."
Icha looked surprised.
Andry gave a quiet laugh.
"Of course I am. I've lost people. I've watched my city fall apart. I've seen my brothers hurt, and I've spent days wondering whether I'd lose someone else. Being afraid doesn't make you weak."
He placed a hand on Icha's shoulder.
"What matters is what you do while you're afraid."
Icha looked down at the ground.
"Protect…"
Andry smiled.
"Exactly."
The boy slowly nodded.
Then he turned toward the remaining possessed villagers.
This time, the mist around him was different.
It was thinner.
Calmer.
Controlled.
Several mist doubles appeared around the attackers, but none distorted into nightmares.
The Selkup became confused again.
Andry moved with them.
Together, they subdued the remaining villagers.
By the time the last one fell unconscious, Andry was breathing heavily, while Icha stood silently beside him.
Andry looked around.
"Well… that could have gone better."
Icha glanced at him.
"Better?"
Andry looked at the unconscious villagers.
"I was hoping we'd reach your village without getting attacked by half of it."
Icha thought for a moment.
"Village... close."
Andry stared at him.
"You knew?"
Icha nodded.
Andry sighed.
"You could've mentioned that before."
Icha looked genuinely confused.
"Mention?"
Andry couldn't help laughing.
"Never mind. Come on. Let's keep moving."
They eventually reached the Selkup settlement.
Unlike the open forest below, the village was built directly into the mountain's natural slope. Timber structures stood among rocks and trees, their roofs layered against the cold, while wooden racks and carved poles surrounded several of the larger homes. Woven garments hung beneath sheltered overhangs, and old markings had been carved into the beams of the buildings.
The Three-River Mark appeared here as well.
Three flowing lines.
The symbol of the covenant.
Yet the village felt wrong.
There was no movement.
No voices.
No smoke rising from cooking fires.
Only the cold mountain wind passing through empty spaces.
Icha stopped.
His expression changed.
"Home…"
Andry looked around.
"This is your village?"
Icha nodded.
Andry's gaze moved across the settlement.
"We'll find them."
Icha looked at him.
"People…"
"We'll find your people too."
They moved carefully through the village.
Several possessed Selkup were still wandering between the houses.
Andry and Icha worked together this time.
Icha created controlled doubles to draw the villagers away from one another while Andry moved behind them, using Ash Zhivava to bind their limbs and knock them unconscious without causing serious injury.
One by one, they restrained them.
Andry dragged the unconscious villagers toward the largest house in the settlement.
"This one?"
Icha nodded.
"Head."
"The tribe head lives here?"
Another nod.
Andry opened the door.
The interior was larger than the surrounding homes. Hunting tools hung along the walls, along with woven garments, carved objects, ceremonial pieces, and old weapons.
And then Icha stopped.
His eyes fixed on something near the wall.
A pale weapon rested there.
It was a curved knife made from hardened pneumatic eagle bone, its inward-cutting edge carefully shaped and its surface covered with ancestral runes. A narrow hollow channel ran through the body of the weapon, while its grip was wrapped in worn leather.
Andry followed his gaze.
"What is that?"
Icha approached slowly.
"Kety-Pū."
He reached out.
His fingers closed around the weapon.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a faint pulse of Mirage Zhivava travelled through the hollow bone.
Mist gathered around his hand.
Andry watched carefully.
"You've used that before?"
Icha shook his head.
"No."
"Then why does it react to you?"
Icha looked at the weapon.
"Mine."
Andry frowned.
"Yours?"
The boy nodded.
"Head... gave."
Andry looked at the weapon again.
Something clicked in his mind.
This wasn't simply a weapon stored in the tribe head's house.
It had been reserved for Icha.
He remembered the special weapons the others had spoken about.
The children of the Three River Circle weren't merely surviving these events.
They had been chosen.
Icha had been chosen.
Andry looked at him differently now.
"You were supposed to inherit this, weren't you?"
Icha remained silent.
But the way he held the Kety-Pū answered enough.
Andry smiled faintly.
"Then I guess your tribe knew something about you that you didn't."
Icha looked down at the weapon.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Andry glanced toward the mountains beyond the village.
"But we're going to find out."
He then noticed something else.
There was no sign of the tribe head.
Andry looked around the house.
"Where is your tribe head?"
Icha pointed toward the mountain.
"Summit."
Andry's expression hardened.
"Why?"
Icha struggled for the word.
"Limpyta."
Andry repeated the unfamiliar name.
"Limpyta?"
Icha nodded.
"Guardian."
Andry looked toward the summit.
The mountain rose above them, disappearing into clouds and pale mist.
"So your tribe head went to the summit to seek your guardian."
Icha nodded.
"Then that's where we're going."
He looked toward the unconscious villagers.
"But first, we make sure these people are safe."
Together, they moved the remaining possessed Selkup into the tribe head's house and secured the doors as best they could. Andry checked each of them to make sure they were breathing, while Icha stood nearby with Kety-Pū still in his hand.
When they finished, Andry stepped outside.
For the first time, he noticed something strange about the mountain.
The mist wasn't moving naturally.
It seemed to gather around the higher slopes before disappearing again, almost as though the mountain itself were breathing.
Andry looked at Icha.
"You said Limpyta is your Guardian."
"Mountain."
"Keeper of the mountain?"
Icha nodded.
Andry's eyes remained fixed on the summit.
"Then maybe the Guardian knows what's happening here."
Icha tightened his grip around Kety-Pū.
"Find."
Andry smiled.
"Yeah. We'll find him."
He started walking.
After a moment, Icha followed.
They began climbing toward the summit, leaving the silent Selkup village behind them.
Andry's thoughts returned to everything that had happened since the camp.
The strange mist.
The possessed Mansi.
The disappearance of the others.
Icha's village.
Whatever had happened here wasn't isolated.
Something had reached into the Three River Circle and disturbed all three of its peoples.
And if the Guardians truly stood at the heart of that ancient covenant, then their silence could not be a coincidence.
Andry looked toward the mountain disappearing into the clouds.
He tightened his grip on his weapon.
"Something is happening to this place."
Icha looked at him.
"Wrong…"
Andry nodded.
"Yeah."
He looked toward the summit.
"And we're going to find out what it is."
The two continued upward, one carrying Ash Zhivava, the other carrying the Kety-Pū that had finally chosen its successor.
Above them, somewhere beyond the mist, the mountain remained silent.
And somewhere even higher—
Limpyta was waiting.