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Prologue
The noise of the city never ceased. Even at night, cars hummed outside, and streetlights filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows on the wall. Matvey felt like an outsider in this cacophony. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, a single thought pounding in his head: "Letter."
It arrived this morning, old and tattered, sent through friends. The envelope smelled of smoke and pine needles. Just one line, written in the trembling hand of his grandfather, whom he hadn't seen for ten years:
"Matvey, if you get this, come. The path calls. Grandpa Ivan will be gone."
He didn't understand the meaning or the urgency then. And a week later, news arrived. Grandfather Ivan had disappeared. The locals said he'd gone into the taiga and never returned. It was as if he'd vanished into the green sea.
And now Matvey was traveling to this remote place, to the village of Sosnovka, from which he had once fled, thirsting for life and opportunity. He was traveling to bury his grandfather, whom he might never find. And he was traveling because he felt that that strange letter held the key.

Chapter 1. Sosnovka
Sosnovka greeted him with the same feeling it had fifteen years ago: the smell of damp wood, smoke, and an endless silence that weighed on ears accustomed to the din of the city. The houses stood crooked, as if rooted to the ground. There were almost no people on the streets.
Marya, the neighbor who looked after his grandfather, was waiting for him. A woman as thin as a twig, with beady eyes.
"Matvey? The spitting image of Ivan in his youth," she sighed, letting him into her grandfather's hut. "It's a shame you didn't live to see him. He's gone, Matvey. He just took his knapsack and walked off along the old path. Back to where he always went."
The hut was just as Matvey remembered it: a massive stove, shelves filled with geology books, a dried herbarium on the windowsill. And the smell—of his grandfather's pipe and dried herbs.
"What path?" Matvey asked.
"And his path. To the Stone. He didn't tell you about it?" Marya asked, surprised. "He spent his whole life searching for it and studying it. He said the path isn't simple. It's alive. It leads some people out, it takes others away."
Matvey dismissed these superstitions. Grandpa had always been an eccentric, a dreamer. A lone geologist obsessed with the legends of the taiga.
He began sorting through his grandfather's things, hoping to find clues—notes, maps. Everything was clean, almost sterile. As if Ivan were preparing to leave. In his desk, Matvey found a thick, tattered leather-bound notebook. A single word was embossed on the cover: "Path."

Chapter 2. Grandfather Ivan's Diary
The notebook turned out to be a diary. Not just a report on his travels, but something like a confession. Matvey began reading and couldn't put it down.
"May 12th. I walked along Medvezhyi Stream. The trail was drowsy today. It didn't want to let me go. The trees were closer together, the branches clinging like hands. You have to be a good listener. The taiga doesn't like fuss."
"July 3rd. I saw tracks. Not of an animal. Of a man. Old, very old. A strange-shaped boot. Like from the last century. The trail is showing me its secrets. But I'm not ready yet."
"September 15th. Today she brought me to the Stone. It's real. Covered in moss, but the signs are visible. My heart sank. Here it is. The beginning and the end. The key to everything. But I need someone else. The one who comes after me. Perhaps Matvey."
Matvey reread the last entry over and over again. "The key to everything." What did that mean? Treasures? A scientific discovery? And why was his grandfather so certain that he, Matvey, was the one who would come?
The diary was full of cryptic references to a "living" path that changed, to the "whispering of cedars," and to a certain "Stone" that served as a portal or door. Grandfather wrote about this not as a madman, but as a researcher documenting anomalies.
Determination slowly grew within Matvey, through the weariness and bitterness of loss. He couldn't just sit and wait. He had to walk this path. Find the Stone. Find his grandfather, alive or dead.

Chapter 3. Entering the Green Kingdom
Having equipped himself, Matvey headed to the outskirts of the village, to the place where, according to his grandfather's description, the Trail began. At first, it was just an animal trail. But after a couple of kilometers, he began to realize that his grandfather was right.
The path really did behave strangely. Sometimes it would be clear and distinct, then suddenly branch off or run into impassable windfalls. Sometimes Matvey felt like he was walking in circles. He remembered his grandfather's words: "You have to be able to listen."
He stopped, closed his eyes, trying to silence the internal dialogue. And then he heard. Not sounds, but rather sensations. A light breeze seemed to pull him to the right. A ray of sunlight fell on a particular pine tree, as if pointing the way. It was surreal.
Matvey followed his intuition. And the path became clear again. He felt like a guest being led. And a guest, as everyone knows, must follow the rules.
On the second day of his journey, he found his first clue. On the trunk of an old cedar tree was a notch—the mark his grandfather had described in his diary. Nearby, under the roots, Matvey dug up a small tin box. Inside was a note:
"Matvey, if you're reading this, you're on the right path. Don't be afraid of the strange. The taiga is a vast organism. The path is its nerve. We follow the nerves of God. Go to the stream with the three giant stones. There you'll find the next sign. Grandfather Ivan."
Matvey's breath caught in his throat. Grandfather knew. Knew he would come. This wasn't just a search trail—it was a quest prepared for him.

Chapter 4. Whispers of the Past
He found the stream with three stones easily, as if the taiga itself had guided him to them. Beneath the central stone lay another box. This time, it contained an old photograph. A yellowed photo: a young grandfather, Ivan, and an unfamiliar man in a uniform resembling that of early 20th-century explorers. They stood embracing against the backdrop of the very same Rock with the petroglyphs. On the back was the inscription: "Ivan and Pyotr. Expedition 1947. We found it. But the price..."
Who is this Peter? What kind of expedition? And what was the price? My grandfather's diary didn't mention it.
That night, Matvey had a strange dream. He was walking along a path, but next to him walked a young old man. And ahead of them walked the same man from the photo—Pyotr. They were laughing, arguing about something. And then the dream turned into a nightmare: screams, panic, running. And a feeling of immense, inexpressible loss.
Matvey woke up in a cold sweat. He realized the path was leading him not only through space, but also through time. Toward solving the mystery that had tormented his grandfather his entire life.

Chapter 5. Stone
A few more days of travel. Matvey had already become completely attuned to the taiga. He'd learned to read its signs and understand its moods. The feeling of loneliness was replaced by a sense of belonging to something great and ancient.
And so, he emerged into a clearing. In its center stood the Stone. Enormous, dark, covered in ancient symbols that were unlike anything Matvey had ever seen before. It was just like the photograph. An almost physical aura of calm and power emanated from it.
And at the foot of the Stone, leaning his back against it, sat Grandfather Ivan. He was alive. Quiet, emaciated, but alive. His eyes were closed, but when Matvey approached, he slowly opened them.
"I knew you'd come," the old man said quietly. His voice was like the rustling of leaves. "Forgive the letter. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come."
"Grandpa... What does all this mean?" Matvey breathed out, falling to his knees next to him.

Chapter 6. The Truth of the Path
Grandfather Ivan told him a story. The story of how, in 1947, he and his friend Pyotr, as young geologists, discovered this trail and this Stone. The Stone, it turned out, was more than just a boulder. It was a concentrated energy point, a "place of power," a portal connecting worlds, or rather, times. It showed the past. The true, unadulterated past.
Pyotr, an adventurer by nature, wanted to exploit this knowledge. Ivan, however, believed that some doors were best left unopened. During an argument, the Stone erupted. Pyotr stepped into the glow emanating from the Stone and vanished. But he didn't vanish into thin air. The Stone revealed Ivan's fate—Pyotr found himself in the past, in 1910, and became the very "missing explorer" Matvey had read about in old reports.
The path wasn't just a road to the Stone. It was a test. It tested the traveler's purity of intention. Only those who walked with an open heart, without greed or power, could reach their destination. Grandfather Ivan spent all these days here, guarding the Stone and awaiting its heir. The heir to his secret and his responsibility.
"She chose you, Matvey," the grandfather said, looking at his grandson. "You've walked the Path. You've heard the taiga. A stone isn't a treasure. It's a mirror. A mirror of the soul and of time. It shows who you are and what you've lost."
Matvey approached the Stone and placed his palm on it. The Stone was warm. Images swam before his eyes: himself, as a little boy, running across the field to his grandfather; the quarrel with his father before leaving Sosnovka; the face of the girl he once loved and abandoned for his career. He saw his entire life, all the losses, all the mistakes. And there was no judgment in it, only understanding.
He didn't find treasure. He found himself.

Epilogue
A year passed. Matvey returned to the city, but not for long. He quit his job, ending his old life. Now he lived in Sosnovka, in his grandfather's hut.
He often walked the Path, sometimes with Grandfather Ivan, who seemed rejuvenated by his grandson's return. Together they studied the Stone, keeping new records. Matvey learned to ask questions of the Stone and receive answers—not in the form of visions, but in the form of insights and understanding.
He no longer felt lost. The noise of the city remained in another world, a world that was now like a dream to him.
One evening, sitting on the porch and looking at the star-studded sky, Matvey asked:
"Grandpa, what happened to Peter? Did he remain in the past?"
Grandfather Ivan lit his pipe and blew out smoke.
"Everyone has their own path, Matvey. His path led him where he was needed. And our path is here. To protect, to understand, and to wait for the next traveler. When the time comes."
Matvey nodded. He looked at the dark silhouette of the taiga, at that very Path that led deep into the wilderness, and he knew—this was his home. His beginning and his end. And this was the greatest treasure he could ever possess. Travels are journeys within, and the greatest secrets are often hidden not in distant lands, but in our own past and in the silence of the world around us.