then described how Grandfather Slava took them to the starting point by cart.
“He knew more than he said. I saw him whispering with Zolotarev.”
“And then,” Yudin sighed, “I fell ill and turned back. Part of me was disappointed, but another part… seemed to know it was necessary.”
He looked Maxim directly in the eyes.
“I’ve kept this secret my whole life. Lived in seclusion because I was afraid. Afraid they would come for me.”
“Who are they?” Maxim asked.
“Those who want the gates to stay open,” Yudin replied. “They never abandon their attempts.”
Yudin took Zolotarev’s notebook.
“I can help decode this. But you must understand – this knowledge won’t bring you peace.”
Maxim nodded.
“I’m ready.”
Yudin began moving his hand over the notebook’s pages. Gradually, strange symbols and diagrams began appearing on the paper.
“Here’s a map,” said Yudin. He pointed to one spot. “This is the pass. But there are others. Zolotarev tried to connect them all, create… a portal.”
Itokai, silent until now, suddenly spoke:
“Ancient prophecy speaks of one who will connect all points and become a bridge between worlds.”
Everyone looked at Maxim. He felt the weight of this knowledge pressing on his shoulders.
“What should I do next?” he asked.
Yudin stood.
“You must find the man with the red beard. He knows the next step. But be careful – you’re already being watched.”
Chapter 9 – Shadows of Belukha
After leaving Yudin’s house, Maxim, Anna, and Itokai headed to Vizhay. The old photograph Yudin had given them showed a man with a red beard – the same one Maxim had seen at the station in Moscow.
“Nikolai Ognev,” Maxim read the inscription on the back. Next to it were coordinates of some location in Vizhay.
The village greeted them with silence and desolation. Most houses stood abandoned, their windows boarded up. Time seemed to have stopped here in the late fifties.
They found the house they needed on the outskirts. The old wooden structure had almost merged with the surrounding forest, but someone clearly lived there. A man with a red beard answered their knock.
“I’ve been expecting you,” said Ognev, inviting them in. “Especially you, Maxim. You’ve already started seeing, haven’t you? Seeing through time?”
Maxim nodded, remembering his visions.
Inside, the house was filled with old photographs and maps. On one wall hung a large photograph of Mount Belukha in the Altai Mountains.
“To understand what happened in fifty-nine,” Ognev began, “you need to know what occurred in the summer of fifty-eight. That’s when Igor Dyatlov, along with Yudin and Thibeaux-Brignolles, went hiking to Mount Belukha in the Altai. What they saw there… it changed them forever.”
He took out an old photo album.
“Look here. This is them at the foot of Belukha.”
In the photograph, Maxim saw young Dyatlov, Yudin, and Thibeaux-Brignolles. They looked happy but focused, as if preparing for something important.
“Belukha is a special place,” Ognev continued. “The ancients considered it sacred. But it’s not about mysticism. On its slopes, they found something that later led them to Kholat Syakhl.”
“What exactly?” Maxim asked.
“In one of the caves, a very important meeting took place that determined the group’s future. There they received knowledge, including coordinates. These coordinates pointed to places of power, not just in the Urals, but in other regions,” Ognev paused momentarily, as if remembering something. “They planned to investigate these places… but…”
“But what?” Maxim asked alertly.
“To understand the complete picture, you need to go to Altai, find these places, and see everything with your own eyes,” Nikolai replied, pointing to the map.
“How will we do that?” Maxim asked.
“Zolotarev’s watch. It doesn’t just tell time – it can open a passage to the past. But you need to find the right transition point.”
Suddenly the house grew very quiet. Ognev tensed, listening.
“They’re here,” he whispered. “Leave through the garden. There’s a path behind the house that leads to the river. We’ll meet in two days at the foot of Belukha, at the old alpine camp. And remember – you can’t change anything in the past. One careless word could alter the entire chain of events.”
They quickly and silently left the house. Through the snowy yard, sinking in deep snow, they made their way to the narrow path leading to the river. The cold wind covered their tracks.
“Where to now?” Anna asked when they had reached a safe distance.
“To Altai,” Maxim replied, gripping the device tighter. “We need to find out what they discovered that summer.”
In his pocket, Zolotarev’s watch ticked quietly, as if counting down the moments until their meeting with the past.
Chapter 10 – The Edge of Times
Making their way through deep snow, they reached a strange place in the forest. Among ancient fir trees rose a stone pillar that resembled a human figure. Snow didn’t settle on its surface, as if the stone radiated warmth.
“Here,” said Itokai, stopping reverently. “The Mansi call this place the Edge of Times. Our ancestors said you could hear the voices of the past here.”
Maxim took out Zolotarev’s watch. In the freezing air, the mechanism emitted a strange humming. The hands began rotating counterclockwise, gaining speed with each revolution.
Around the stone pillar appeared a strange glow, like the northern lights but concentrated around the rock.
“A portal,” Anna whispered. “Time grows thin here.”
Maxim stepped closer to the glow. The device in his hands responded with vibration, the symbols on its surface flashing brighter.
They stood around the stone pillar, touching its surface with their hands. Zolotarev’s watch pulsed more intensely, its humming growing into a low vibrating drone.
Suddenly everything was flooded with a bright flash of light. Maxim closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the winter forest had vanished. They stood on the slope of Mount Belukha, bathed in summer sunlight. The air was warm and thin – they could feel the altitude.
“It worked,” Itokai breathed. “We’re in fifty-eight.”
Maxim looked around. The majestic Belukha towered before them, its snowy peak glittering in the sunlight. Below stretched a green valley, cut by the silver ribbon of a river.
“Look!” Anna pointed down the slope.
There, about two hundred meters below them, they saw three people. Even from that distance, Maxim recognized them from the photographs: Igor Dyatlov, Yuri Yudin, and Thibeaux-Brignolles. Young, full of energy, they were animatedly discussing something, occasionally pointing toward the mountain’s peak.
“We need to get closer,”