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Chapter 5 – On the Threshold of the Unknown

Maxim ventured deeper into the forest, leaving the sawmill and sounds of pursuit far behind. The frigid air burned his lungs, and with each step his backpack seemed to grow heavier. But he didn’t stop – fear and curiosity drove him forward.

After several hours of exhausting ascent, the forest parted to reveal a small plateau. Maxim paused, catching his breath. In the distance, among the Ural mountain ridges, lay Mount Kholat Syakhl.

The strange device in his hands came alive. A series of pulsing signals joined its familiar hum, and the mysterious symbols on its surface began to shift. Slowly turning, Maxim held the device before him like a compass. When he pointed it toward one of the distant peaks, the signals grew clearer, more insistent.

Further progress was impossible without skis. He put them on, silently thanking the old man for his foresight.

Fortunately, his serious background in skiing proved invaluable now. The hunting skis, fitted with climbing skins, were unusually wide but gripped the snow well. He moved quickly for the first few hours, driven by fear of pursuit. The winter day waned, the forest grew denser, massive fir trees converged overhead, barely letting through the dim light. The frost intensified, creeping under his jacket, but he couldn’t afford to stop.

As darkness approached, Maxim finally caught his breath and surveyed his surroundings. The sawmill lay far behind, and ahead stretched an endless winter forest. He checked the map – Kholat Syakhl was more than a hundred kilometers away – a long journey ahead.

As night fell, fatigue began to take its toll. In a small clearing between trees, Maxim decided to make camp. Taking a thermos of tea from his backpack, he suddenly realized how cold and exhausted he had become. A long night lay ahead, with several days’ journey still remaining to the Mountain of the Dead.

He hastily constructed a small shelter from pine boughs beneath a spreading fir tree, clearing away the snow. The frost intensified during the night, and even his warm sleeping bag couldn’t completely ward off the cold. He drifted in and out of troubled sleep, starting at every rustle, flinching at the crack of frozen trees.

He set out again at first light. The morning sun painted the snow pink, and fog crept between the trees. The forest seemed endless; kilometer after kilometer Maxim pressed on, occasionally checking his map. The old hunting skis glided softly over the snow, leaving long tracks behind.

Several days passed this way. Each day mirrored the last – long treks through snowy forest, brief rests, and cold nights.

Once, fortune smiled on him. He encountered some kind people on a snowmobile who, upon seeing Maxim, offered to take him to the nearest village. This significantly hastened his progress and allowed him some respite from the long journey.

On the fourth day, the forest began to thin, and ahead the outlines of mountain ridges emerged more distinctly. Maxim sensed he was close to his goal. Somewhere among these stern peaks lay Mount Kholat Syakhl. He took out the device again to confirm his direction, and suddenly caught movement from the corner of his eye. Among the trees appeared a small figure – no taller than a child, but with unnaturally white, glowing eyes. The white-eyed Chud – ancient Mansi legends made flesh.

The being studied Maxim and the device intently, then pointed toward the mountain and spoke something in an incomprehensible language.

With trembling hands, Maxim retrieved a package of sugar from his backpack – remembering Dyatlov’s notes. It carefully accepted the offering and again pointed to the mountain.

“They’re guiding me to my destination,” Maxim realized.

The journey grew increasingly difficult. Snow reached to his knees, the wind strengthening with each step. The device in Maxim’s hands pulsed more frequently, as if sensing the approach of something significant.

By evening, they reached the mountain’s base. At the entrance to a small cave, the being stopped and gestured for Maxim to enter, its movement carrying an air of ancient wisdom.

Deep in the cave, ancient drawings glowed with a dim phosphorescent light. Maxim gazed in amazement at the strange images – human figures, stars, and objects floating in the sky. In the center, like the heart of a sanctuary, rose an altar stone.

The being approached the altar and touched it with its white hand. The device in Maxim’s hands exploded with light and sound – the signals became deafening, symbols on its surface whirling in a frenzied dance.

The air in the cave thickened, pulsing like a living thing. The stone walls dissolved, revealing the infinity of starry sky and the outlines of alien worlds whose existence humanity had never suspected.

Maxim understood – he stood on the threshold of a discovery that could overturn all understanding of reality. Here, in this ancient cave, awaited answers not only to the mystery of Dyatlov Pass, but to questions about the very nature of the universe.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward into the unknown…

Chapter 6 – Gateway to the Unknown

A flash of light blinded him. When his vision returned, Maxim found himself on a snow-covered slope beneath a night sky crisscrossed by the trajectories of fiery spheres. They floated above the horizon as if performing some ancient dance.

The crunch of snow behind him made him turn. There she stood – the same woman from Moscow where it all began.

“You?” Maxim could only breathe.

“I’m Anna,” she smiled with the same mysterious expression as in Moscow. “And I’m here to help you understand.”

The world around them swayed and blurred like melting wax. They found themselves beside a majestic cedar tree, next to a crackling fire. Two young men – Yuri Doroshenko and Yuri Krivonischenko – sat by the flames, shivering from cold, unaware of the invisible eyes watching them.

“Look,” Anna whispered.

Something gleamed in Krivonischenko’s hands – an object shimmering in the firelight with a living, unearthly glow.

“A key to the gates between worlds,” Anna explained in response to Maxim’s unspoken question. “They received it shortly before the tragedy.”

The night sky suddenly exploded with light. Fiery spheres darted about like maddened fireflies. Horror and wonder froze on the faces of the two Yuris as they leaped to their feet.

“The gates are losing stability,” Anna’s voice grew anxious. “And they have neither the strength nor knowledge to control them.”

Reality shifted again. Now they saw the tent on the mountainside – and the panic that overtook the group. There they were, cutting the tent fabric from inside, scattering across the snow, then forming a line. Their struggle was visible, each breath seemingly difficult, but despite the bitter frost and their overwhelming fear, they began descending the slope – each step a battle for survival.

Maxim lunged toward them, but Anna held him back.

“The past cannot be changed, but we can prevent its repetition,” suddenly in her outstretched hand appeared the familiar device from Maxim’s backpack.

“This is one of the keys to closing the gates. Soon you’ll understand how to use it,” Anna looked at him with slight concern in her eyes, as if unable to tell him everything.

When Maxim took the device, the ancient symbols on it flashed, as if recognizing their master.

“How?” he asked.

“You’re from the lineage of guardians. The knowledge flows in your blood. Just trust it.”

Maxim closed his eyes, feeling the device’s energy streaming through him. Understanding came naturally, as if awakening from the depths of memory.

When he opened his eyes, the summit of Kholat Syakhl spread beneath him. In the raging chaos of realities, all times merged at once.

Raising the device above his head, Maxim was ready to meet his destiny. The mystery that had waited more than half a century had finally found one who could unveil it.

Chapter 7 – Keys from the Past

Suddenly Maxim felt his consciousness expanding, encompassing multiple dimensions at once. He saw the history of Mount Kholat Syakhl stretching back thousands of years. Ancient shamans performing their rituals; a secret society founded in the 19th century to study anomalies; Soviet scientists conducting experiments in the 1950s. All these events were connected by a single thread leading to this moment. At some point, this stream of knowledge seemed to break free, and the world before him changed. The very air around him became saturated with some new force, and the space around him acquired an unknown depth.

His gaze now turned toward the majestic forest growing at the mountain’s foot. Among its dark, ancient trees stood Anna, meeting his gaze with understanding. She smiled softly, and her words resonated like an echo from another world:

“Your journey is only beginning. You are one of the guardians. You have an important mission that must change everything.”

Maxim approached her and nodded, understanding that his life would never be the same. At that moment, Anna pulled a worn notebook from her pocket.

“This is Semyon Zolotarev’s notebook,” she said. “It was empty when they found it, but that doesn’t mean it contained no information.”

Maxim took the notebook and ran his hand over the cover. Suddenly images flashed before his eyes: he saw Zolotarev hurriedly writing something, then running his hand across the page, making the text disappear.

“Invisible ink?” Maxim suggested.

Anna shook her head.

“Something more complex. Zolotarev had the ability to encode information in the paper’s very structure. Only those who know the secret can read these writings.”

She pointed to Maxim’s wrist.

“The watch. Zolotarev had two of them. They didn’t just tell time – they were instruments for determining exact coordinates and navigating between realities.”

Maxim raised his hand and was surprised to discover an antique watch that hadn’t been there before.

“How is this possible?”

“You’ve inherited not only the knowledge but also the artifacts of the guardians,” Anna explained.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. An elderly Mansi man in traditional clothing emerged from the forest. He bowed to Maxim and Anna.

“I am Itokai,” he introduced himself. “My people have guarded the secrets of these mountains for centuries. We knew of the new guardians’ coming.”

Itokai told them about ancient Mansi legends, the mountain spirits, and those who came to study the anomalies. He mentioned the second group that was on the mountain at the same time as Dyatlov’s team.

“And now,” said Itokai, “let me show you something.”

He led them to a small cave. Inside, they saw rock paintings depicting people, stars, and strange devices.

“This is the history of the guardians,” Itokai explained. “And now you are part of this history.”

As they studied the drawings, Maxim suddenly felt his consciousness expanding again. He saw the Dyatlov group boarding their bus, heading for their fateful trek. He felt their excitement, heard their conversations and jokes.

He saw Yuri Yudin especially clearly – the tenth member of the Dyatlov group who had to turn back due to illness.

Maxim felt his disappointment and simultaneously an inexplicable relief, as if part of Yudin knew of the approaching danger.

“Yudin,” Maxim whispered. “He must know more.”

Anna nodded.

“Yes, Yudin is a key figure in this story. He didn’t just survive – he was the keeper of memory.”

Itokai added:

“Many searched only for external causes of the tragedy: avalanches, weapons, wild animal attacks. But the real mystery was always deeper, in the very fact of boundaries between worlds.”

Maxim looked at Zolotarev’s notebook, at the watch on his wrist, at the ancient drawings on the cave walls. He understood that each of these elements was part of an enormous puzzle he had to solve.

“What now?” he asked.

“Now,” Anna replied, “we must find Yudin. Only he can help us decipher Zolotarev’s notes and understand what really happened that fateful night.”

Itokai nodded.

“The path won’t be easy. Dark forces won’t leave us in peace. But remember, we’re not alone. The mountain spirits and the souls of the dead Dyatlov hikers will be with us, guiding and protecting us on our way.”

Maxim took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility that had settled on his shoulders. But at the same time, he felt a strange excitement. The Dyatlov Pass mystery was just the beginning of a greater story, and he was ready to uncover it completely.

Chapter 8 – The Mystery of the Red Beard

Maxim, Anna, and Itokai set out to find Yuri Yudin. They knew this man was a crucial figure connected to the tragedy at the pass. However, the further they proceeded, the more they sensed their search might be futile. Local residents avoided discussing the topic, and all information about Yudin was fragmentary and contradictory. Some said he had left long ago, others claimed no one had seen him.

Nevertheless, they pressed forward despite growing doubts. In another village where they decided to stop, they noticed a man sitting by a fire near the road.

As they approached, the man stood and walked over, nodding in greeting.

“Hello, travelers,” he said. “I’m Mikhail Sharavin, a local. Are you looking for something? How can I help?” His gaze was attentive and calm.

Maxim explained they were searching for Yuri Yudin and their urgent need to find him.

“Yudin, you say?” Mikhail squinted thoughtfully. “He doesn’t appear here often. But I know where his house is. You’d hardly find it without help, but I can show you the way.”

Sharavin pointed toward the forest and gave detailed directions to Yudin’s house. He didn’t speak long about Yuri himself, only adding:

“That man doesn’t like excessive attention.”

Yudin’s house stood apart, surrounded by a high fence. When they knocked, the door opened to reveal a gray-haired man with deep wrinkles on his face. His gaze was wary and tired.

“Yuri Efimovich?” Maxim asked.

Yudin nodded, studying the visitors intently.

“You’ve come to learn about the pass,” it wasn’t a question but a statement.

They entered the house. Inside was dark and cool. Maxim went straight to the point.

“Was the 1959 trek your last? Did you never hike again?” he asked.

Yudin shook his head.

“Never. After that trek… everything changed.” He paused, then continued: “You want to know the truth. But are you ready for it?”

Maxim showed him Zolotarev’s notebook and the watch. Yudin’s eyes widened.

“So the time has come,” he whispered.

Yudin began his story:

“Before we reached the starting point, something happened. On the way to Vizhay village, the bus driver dropped us off for a couple of hours – he went about his business in a restricted settlement, promising to return in an hour. To avoid wasting time, the others suggested visiting some facility near the road, one I’d never heard of before. We went. Within twenty minutes, we were there. A man with a red beard met us.”

Another red beard? Maxim was alarmed but didn’t show it. It seemed to be appearing too frequently in his life lately, he thought.

“He gave Zolotarev some instructions,” Yudin continued. “And passed something to the others. What exactly – I don’t know. But after that, everything changed. They became… different.” Yuri Efimovich’s face suddenly changed, and he jumped to another part of his narrative. It seemed very strange – one could feel how difficult it was for him to relive these events.

Yudin 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.