Бесплатный фрагмент - Muffin the Raccoon and the Mystery of Genus

Prologue. The Last Drop

“You haven’t eaten again, Roxie,” Raghar sighed, taking away the plates with untouched food.

His wife slowly turned her head and looked at him indifferently. Her blue eyes met Raghar’s yellow ones, and for a moment he thought she recognized him. But the next second she turned back to the window where she had been sitting, and her gaze drifted into the distance. The tiger helplessly clenched the pads of his paws.

Moonlight fell upon her fur, turning it from white to silvery. The fur that had once been fluffy and soft now had a greyish tint. “Like ashes from a campfire,” Raghar thought bitterly. Lately she had been looking worse than usual. With each passing day her strength was leaving her. She had grown thin, her fur no longer gleamed as it used to. And her eyes — extinguished ten years ago.

“I’ll be back soon. I need to go see Vella. I will save you, my dear,” Raghar said and left the room.

Roxana didn’t even twitch an ear at his words. She simply sat there meaninglessly, staring out the window.

***

Light snow was falling. It swirled slowly through the air, and when it landed on the traveler’s fur as he climbed toward the ice fortress, it instantly melted. The traveler’s yellow eyes burned with determination. He paused for a moment at the Mountain of Memory, looked at the images of deceased children carved into the stone, and stepped forward resolutely. Today everything had to happen. Waiting any longer was impossible.

At the entrance to the Ice Prison the traveler nodded to two guards in greeting. He took a torch from the wall, wrapped a cloth around his muzzle — to avoid breathing the poison — and entered the chamber where Vella had been imprisoned for more than a hundred years.

The frog sat on a cube of ice like a throne. A magical bluish glow emanated from her blue skin — the very glow created by the poisonous vapors rising from Vella. When the tiger Raghar entered and stopped at a distance from the cage, the frog’s black eyes opened and she looked at him.

The frog was short in stature, barely reaching Raghar’s waist. Blue skin, interspersed with dark spots, created a beautiful pattern across her entire body. In her black eyes one could drown — so much knowledge and wisdom shone within them.

But appearances were deceiving, and every creature living in their world knew how much pain and evil this small being had brought.

“How is Roxana feeling today?” the prisoner asked the tiger with deceptively polite and caring concern in her voice.

The eyes of the newcomer flashed with unfriendly fire. Claws slipped out from beneath his gloves, invisible to Vella. But Raghar immediately pulled himself together and once again put on his mask of indifference — the habit he had developed over the past ten years.

“Don’t pretend you care about her,” the tiger said, placing the torch in its holder and approaching the cage.

He stopped a meter away. The glow emanating from the frog immediately swayed and slowly crept toward him.

“You are mistaken, my friend. Thanks to her, I will soon gain my freedom.”

“No!” This time the tiger could not contain his emotions, and anger burst forth. “Nothing will change for you. The blood of a thousand beasts is on your paws. You will remain here forever.”

“But if only you had brought her to me. If she had inhaled my aroma… feelings would have returned to her. And she — to you.” The frog seemed not to be listening to her interlocutor. “You see, only my poison has kept her from going completely mad all this time. But now it’s no longer enough.”

“Haven’t you experimented enough? Shall I remind you how it ended last time?”

And the tiger fell silent. For Vella was right. He could have returned Roxana, albeit through such a barbaric method. But that would have been only a half-measure. The world needed something else. It was time to return freedom to the beasts. They must awaken from their century-long oblivion.

Vella appeared before him, a small distance separating them. She placed her paws on the bars of the cage. For some time they stood in silence. The frog removed her paws from the metal, leaving behind thick blue slime that glowed dimly in the torchlight. Poisonous vapors reached the tiger’s muzzle, but the bandage reliably protected him. Though he no longer needed protection.

Raghar tore the cloth from his muzzle and greedily inhaled through his nostrils. With each breath, his yellow eyes blazed with a sinister fire.

Vella extended a paw toward him. Without a moment’s hesitation, the tiger reached out his own in response. When their paws touched, something inside the tiger’s chest cracked. Thunder seemed to roar within his head. Raghar fell to his knees and clutched his temples. For the first time in his life, he was overwhelmed by true emotions — feelings that had been accumulating inside him for so long.

Memories rushed back instantly: as a child, he would flinch during thunderstorms at the sound of thunderclaps. He hadn’t known how to feel fear, but that noise had always caused him discomfort he couldn’t understand then. Now he knew: the feelings within every beast hadn’t vanished with the arrival of the Stone of Evil — they had simply forgotten how to express them. And then his father had told him: “Thunder is not the sky’s anger. It is its laughter. It rejoices that the world lives.” And he had stopped flinching.

And now he understood: his anger was also laughter. Because he was alive.

The tiger rose to his feet, carefully scraped the slime from the cage bars into glass vials, tucked them into his backpack, and without a word of farewell, left the prison. The salvation of this world awaited him. The salvation of Roxana.

Vella nodded her head contentedly and returned to her throne. She had been imprisoned here for long years. Ice had bound her magic, leaving only a faint echo of her former power. But soon Chaos would arrive — and who knew, perhaps she would resume her work.

“How symbolic,” she whispered. “The Guardian of Fire will ignite this flame across the entire world.”

Vella smirked and folded her paws before her.

Chapter I. The Uprising

Early autumn morning. The weather still offered warmth, but the winds had already turned cold with the breath of fall. The Autumn Festival was precisely the last chance to bid farewell to the hot days. The organization of the festival and the election of a new Council member were the topics of today’s meeting.

The Hall of Accord was unusually quiet today. The Council members sat around the round table, each lost in their own thoughts. Even the usually talkative Terra exchanged only a couple of routine phrases with Beryl. Conversation between the Guardians had faltered from the very beginning of the meeting, to which they had arrived early, eager to resolve the uncomfortable matter as quickly as possible.

The Guardians of the Stone were so different from one another, yet all shared a common purpose — to ensure the Stone of Evil would never see the light again.

Terra — the elephantess, Guardian of Earth. Massive yet graceful. Her large grey ears had become like old maps, veined with delicate lines. In her dark, deep eyes, like wells, one could drown. Even she, usually wise, patient, but excessively talkative, felt out of place today.

Beryl — the beaver, Guardian of Water. She was short but sturdy, with glossy chestnut fur. Because of her height, her chair stood higher than the others so she could sit level with the rest of the Guardians. Now her attentive amber eyes followed the movement of her short, strong paws as they fiddled with a simple necklace of polished river stones. She had always been quieter than the others, so on a day like this few expected conversation from her.

And finally, the last one present — Kair, the eagle, Guardian of Air. Slender, wings folded at his sides like a cloak of shadows. Dark brown feathers edged with silver occasionally trembled in rhythm with his thoughts. His gaze, sharper than a blade, was as usual fixed somewhere in the distance, toward the open window. No surprise — his thoughts were always in the sky when his body had to remain on the ground.

Around each of their necks hung a piece of the Key.

Only Raghar and Arun were missing. The young lion Arun was occupied with royal duties — he had only recently ascended the throne. The Keeper of the Center was the first of the new generation to assume his responsibilities.

As for Raghar, he was late again after yet another visit to Vella.

“Thank you, Emma,” Terra said, breaking the silence with her trumpet-like voice, and accepted the cup of herbal infusion brought to her.

The weasel Emma, who served in the Ancestors’ Castle, bowed awkwardly and nearly knocked over Kair’s cup. Several drops of water landed on the eagle’s brown feathers. He seemed not to notice, continuing to gaze out the window.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Emma bowed. Today she was unusually untidy and jumpy for her.

“Is everything alright, dear?” Terra asked politely.

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine. I’m just feeling a bit unwell.”

“Then you should take a day off. Otherwise you’ll miss all the fun at the Autumn Festival. The little ones will be disappointed. How are they, by the way? And your husband?”

“Thank you, my lady. Everyone’s alive and well. I’ll be going now.” And the usually talkative Emma bowed hastily once more and hurried to slip out of the Hall of Accord. Before leaving, she approached the incense bowl and added a fresh bundle of herbs.

The weasel’s conversation with the Guardian of Earth eased the tension slightly. The beaver Beryl stopped endlessly fiddling with her necklace and asked the other Guardians:

“Friends, have you already chosen your successors?”

Beryl looked at her companions expectantly. The elephantess took a sip from the cup Emma had placed before her and, her loquacity returning, declared:

“I’m thinking of leaving Tora in my place. She’s certainly wiser than Tira. And not as talkative as I am — oh-ho-ho! The next council won’t leave meetings with headaches — oh-ho-ho!” And the elephantess burst into her famous trumpet-like laughter.

Kair winced — on the Council he rarely managed to concentrate — and replied:

“Without a doubt, Aela will take my place. Besides, she is friends with Vel.”

This phrase once again brought everyone back to the main topic of today’s meeting, and had it not been for Terra, who hurried to lighten the mood, the Council members risked sinking back into their own thoughts.

“Aela — ‘she who carries the voice of the sky.’ You are as poetic as ever, my friend.”

“Thank you, Terra. And you, Beryl — who will you leave in your place?”

But the beaver didn’t have time to answer. The doors to the Hall of Accord swung open, and the last Guardian entered with heavy steps — the Guardian of Fire, the tiger Raghar.

Tall, muscular, with striped fur prematurely faded by the grief he had endured ten years ago. Once orange like a sunset, it had now turned greyish-russet. His yellow eyes burned with fire today — for the first time in many years.

The Guardian of Fire walked to the table and stopped by his chair. He scanned the other Guardians with his gaze, pausing for a moment on Arun empty chair. Yes, the young lion was in no hurry to accept the burden that had fallen to him, trying to catch the tail of his departing childhood. But there was nothing to be done — he and the future Council members had no choice. Just as Raghar and his friends had once had none.

“Friends?” — the tiger thoughtfully scanned the faces of those gathered once more. Where were these friends when he had come to them in despair ten years ago?

“Discussing who will take my place? Or have you already decided everything?”

“E-eh, dear…” Terra stammered.

“We… no…” Beryl tried to say.

And only Kair, without tearing his gaze from the heavenly heights, pronounced:

“My friend, you understand — we must honor the laws. Soon we will retire and must leave successors in our place. But you have no one to leave — your son perished. Therefore, a new Guardian of Fire is needed, whose lineage will bear the burden laid upon him and pass it from parent to offspring.”

As always, dry, emotionless, all business — that was Kair.

Raghar didn’t have time to reply — a voice from the entrance interrupted him:

“What a wonderful morning today!” The lion, with the carelessness characteristic of youth, walked past the Council members and took his place at the head of the table. Not a Guardian, but a Keeper. Like his ancestors before him, he was meant to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Guardians, yet remain above them, as befit the ruler of Relion.

“What are we discussing, friends? The treats for the Autumn Festival? I could offer a few suggestions on that matter. What if we replace the usual pumpkin sweets with something more exotic and unusual? Everyone will be delighted!”

The Council members, except for Raghar, exchanged subtle glances. Terra and Beryl couldn’t suppress their sighs. Arun was still too young, but his father had died of rabies, forcing the young lion to ascend the throne prematurely. He had taken the throne — but hadn’t yet had time to grow up. And that was not his fault.

“Or perhaps there’s progress in the fight against rabies? Raghar, you’ve been working on this — you wouldn’t keep visiting Vella in the Ice Prison for nothing. Can the scholars boast of any new breakthroughs?” At the mention of the disease that had killed his father, a faint sadness flickered across Arun’s muzzle.

“No, my lord. We were discussing my successor,” the Guardian of Fire said, ignoring the lion’s chatter and cutting straight to the matter.

“Ah, hm…” Arun coughed awkwardly. “Yes, Uncle Raghar, we must choose a new Guardian of Fire — you know the tradition. And because I took the throne prematurely, the entire generation of Guardians must be replaced earlier than planned. But you understand…”

The young Arun hesitated, unsure how to continue, and searched the other Guardians’ faces for help. But the tiger finished the sentence for him:

“I have no successor. I understand everything, Arun.”

“Since everyone knows and understands everything, let’s discuss the Autumn Festival first, and then invite Raghar’s successor with his son, who will join the new Council. Or shall we appoint the successor first so as not to keep our friend waiting?” Terra rattled on, trying to lighten the mood.

“Be quiet, Terra,” Raghar cut her off sharply.

Everyone present turned their heads and looked at the tiger. Such harsh words had never been spoken within the walls of the Hall of Accord.

“How dare you?” Kair, always calm, now looked alarmed.

“How often do you visit Vella?” Beryl nervously began fiddling with the stones on her necklace.

Arun’s gaze shifted from one Guardian to another. He didn’t know what to say.

Raghar approached the table, ignoring his companions’ questions. He removed the fragment of the Key from his neck and placed it before him.

“We need to open the casket.”

For a moment, silence hung in the hall after his words. A second later, it erupted in cries:

“Have you gone mad?!”

“We can’t even think such things, let alone speak them aloud!”

“Raghar, has Vella’s poison clouded your mind?”

The Guardian of Fire slammed his fist against the table. His eyes, usually yellow, now burned with the orange fire of fury.

“Enough!!!” And once everyone fell silent in confusion, he continued, calmer now but still ablaze: “Don’t you see that we aren’t living? We are all slowly dying. The Stone didn’t remove all the bad feelings — it locked them inside us, denying them any outlet. And now they’re accumulating within, with nowhere to go, devouring us from the inside. You think beasts are infected with rabies? In truth, it’s all that pent-up darkness with no escape that’s killing them.”

“Don’t you remember what happened during the Great War? Do you want to plunge the world into Chaos again?” Beryl asked.

“All that chaos wasn’t caused by our nature — it was the result of Vella’s experiments. Beasts lived for thousands of years before the Great War, and the world didn’t collapse.”

“We cannot allow that war to happen again. Our ancestors swore it would never return. Are you certain that when the Stone breaks free, the world won’t drown in blood?” Terra looked reproachfully at the tiger.

“The first Council made a mistake. I don’t know what they should have done — perhaps find a way to tame the Stone — but they shouldn’t have stripped all of us of our feelings. This world is doomed: predators are ashamed to be predators, herbivores ashamed to be weak. They’ve suppressed their instincts — one kind became ghosts of themselves, the other hid behind masks of soulless calm. And what’s the result? A mother watches her child drown in a river, stifles her scream, and calmly says, ‘It’s fine, he’ll swim out on his own.’ But he didn’t swim out. My son drowned!! And how many more have suffered because of the Stone of Evil? Roxana lost her mind, unable to cope with guilt, with no way to give voice to her feelings. Arun’s father couldn’t control his predatory nature and succumbed to rabies. And he was a strong and wise beast. How many more must die before you understand? The world must awaken.”

The tiger fell silent. And silence descended once more.

Suddenly, sobs broke the silence. Everyone turned toward Beryl. The sobs turned into weeping. The beaver fiddled with her necklace, then threw it aside and spoke through tears:

“I’m sorry for your Raju. And if my little ones had drowned… how terrified I would be…”

The remaining Council members exchanged astonished glances. Kair looked furiously at Raghar:

“What nonsense are you spouting? We cannot allow the Stone of Evil to gain freedom. Have you forgotten the bones of the young ones at the foot of the Mountain of Memory? Because you lost your son, must we all lose ours?”

There was so much venom in his words that everyone looked at the Guardian of Wind in surprise. Only Raghar stood calmly, his paws folded contentedly across his chest.

“What have you done to us?” Terra asked fearfully. Tears streamed from her large eyes.

The Guardian of Fire approached the incense bowl and tossed in another bundle of herbs. Immediately, a bluish haze rose above it — something the other beasts hadn’t noticed before.

“I merely awakened you,” he grinned predatorily.

“You poisoned us with Vella’s venom, traitor! You betrayed my father and all of us!” the young lion shouted in rage, leaping to his feet and lunging at the tiger.

But the Guardian of Fire surpassed him in both mass and experience. It was no trouble for him to dodge Arun’s charge, seize him by the mane, and hurl him back toward the table where the other Guardians sat.

“Raghar, please calm down,” Terra said, rising from her chair. “Otherwise…”

And with those words, she collapsed back down, no longer able to stand. She looked in astonishment at her limbs, which had stopped obeying her. Then her gaze shifted to the herbal infusion Emma had brought — and everything became clear at once.

“Guardians!” Kair cried out and flapped his wings.

But nothing happened in response, though the Guardian of Air knew for certain that the honor guard never abandoned its post.

“What have you done to them? Have you sunk so low as murder?” Horror trembled in his voice.

The Guardian of Fire shook his head regretfully. To them, he had now become a monster — yet he had only wanted freedom for all beasts. No matter. Time would judge them all.

Raghar clapped his paws and called out loudly:

“Enter!”

The guards whom Kair had unsuccessfully summoned a minute earlier entered the hall, along with several more soldiers from Arun’s personal guard. Besides the military, there were others too. All of them regarded the Council members with hostility.

“What have you done, Raghar?” Beryl was no longer crying — she looked at the newcomers with fear.

“And you’re with him too, Emma? How could you?” Terra noticed the small weasel standing at the feet of the beasts who had just entered.

The weasel Emma guiltily hunched her shoulders but did not avert her gaze.

“I gave them freedom. Freedom to think, to decide. And to feel.”

“How did you bypass the Stone’s magic?” Kair spread his wings wide, shielding the recovering Arun.

“Vella’s venom, in small doses, can temporarily restore feelings. I discovered this while working on a cure for rabies.”

“Don’t you understand?” Terra spoke up. “Vella cannot be trusted. Have you forgotten that the Great War happened because of her? Because of her experiments that spiraled out of control?”

“No one trusts her. I have no intention of freeing her from prison. Her current situation suits me perfectly.”

The Guardian of Fire removed his fragment of the Key and addressed the others:

“Give me your fragments, and I will open the casket myself. Everything that happens afterward will rest entirely on my conscience.”

The remaining Guardians exchanged glances. Raghar’s obvious advantage in strength left them no choice. The elephantess had been neutralized by Emma’s potion, the young Arun was only just recovering from the tiger’s throw — and how could he possibly match the overwhelming power of the Guardian of Fire? The eagle and the beaver posed no threat to Raghar’s small army either.

“Well then, since you won’t cooperate willingly, you leave me no choice. Seize them!” he commanded his followers.

But they did not rush to obey. Feelings had returned to them — but they felt no hatred toward the Council members and wished them no harm. Many of their children had grown up alongside the Guardians’ children, and their parents had long been acquainted.

The Guardian of Air seized the moment of confusion. With a sweep of his wing, he sent the few dishes on the table clattering toward the entrance, then called over his shoulder:

“Arun — run! The casket must not fall into Raghar’s paws!”

Terra found strength to heave herself upward — and collapsed before Raghar’s forces, toppling several beasts and pinning others beneath her massive form. Beril immediately threw herself under the feet of those still standing. A brief chaos erupted. While some struggled free from beneath the elephant’s bulk and others rose after being bowled over by the sturdy beaver, the young ruler — the Keeper of the casket — managed to leap through the window and descend into the courtyard of the Council building.

The tiger leaned out after him and commanded the followers waiting outside:

“Seize Arun! He must not escape!”

When he turned from the window, the Guardians already stood at the room’s center — Kair and Beril on their feet, Terra propped wearily against the table — and faced the Guardian of Fire with quiet defiance.

“You know your fragments alone are useless,” Terra said, her voice strained but steady. “Without the fifth piece — the Guardian who abandoned us long ago — your Key remains incomplete. And Arun has escaped. You have neither him nor the casket.”

“The lion won’t get far,” Raghar replied coldly. “They’ll catch him soon enough. As for the fifth fragment…” A faint smile touched his muzzle. “I know where to find it.”

The Guardians exchanged startled glances. None had heard mention of the fifth fragment — or its Guardian — in over a century.

“But you know a Key of four pieces can still open the casket,” he added, his amber eyes gleaming with challenge as he looked at the Guardians.

Horror widened their eyes. They stared at the tiger, disbelief giving way to dread.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Terra whispered — the thought shared by them all.

The former Guardian of Fire removed the chain bearing his fragment. He approached the other Keepers and, one by one, stripped the fragments from their necks. Then he pressed the four shards together. With a soft *click*, they fused into a single Key — gleaming, powerful, yet incomplete. Raghar hung it around his own neck and turned to Igni — the leopard who was meant to take his place on the Council.

“Assemble a patrol,” he commanded. “Set out for the Forest of Quiet Roots. Find the fifth fragment.”

And in that moment, far away in a quiet woodland where a young raccoon named Muffin still dreamed beneath the stars, the hunt began.

“Understood…” Ignis hesitated for a moment, then knelt and, bowing his head, added: “My lord.”

The tiger grimaced but accepted this new title. If leading the beasts was necessary to free them from their century-long imprisonment, then he would lead.

***

A crowd already awaited him outside the castle. From afar he saw overly animated beasts arguing with the guards. To avoid tempting fate and unnecessary violence, he took the secret passage. He hesitated near its entrance. Arun hadn’t used the hidden tunnel in a long time, and it turned out he had slightly outgrown it.

“How am I supposed to squeeze through this in an emergency?” the young heir muttered in frustration.

“Perhaps because this passage was meant for servants, who are shorter in stature, and not for the heir to Relion’s throne, the Keeper of the Center,” a familiar voice came from beside Arun.

The lion abandoned his attempts to climb into the passage and straightened up. Standing next to him was the old badger Corwin. He regarded his pupil with curiosity. Beside him lay a travel pack and Arun’s sword.

“Teacher, what are you doing here?” Arun asked, surprised and delighted.

“It seems I’m saving your furry backside once again,” the badger chuckled with age-worn amusement. “What happened at the Council? The entire castle is in an uproar — beasts appeared out of nowhere demanding either to hand you over or to let them in. They’re behaving strangely — I’d even say they’re furious, but that’s impossible. After the Great War, all dark emotions were forever swallowed by the Stone of Evil.”

“Raghar has started an uprising. He intoxicated the beasts with Vella’s venom and now wants to open the casket to release the Stone of Evil. I think he already has the Key,” and the young lion recounted everything that had happened in the tower.

Corwin gasped. He adjusted his small spectacles on his nose and fell into thought. After a moment, he spoke animatedly:

“Lyra. You need to go to her.”

“But what about the casket with the Stone of Evil? We can’t let it fall into Raghar’s paws!”

“Oh, my young friend, while you were struggling to squeeze into that passage, I was catching my breath. Earlier I slipped out through it myself and brought along a few things from your personal belongings and supplies for the journey ahead.”

The old badger gestured toward the pack at his feet. Arun joyfully seized Corwin and pulled him into an embrace.

“E-eh, let go, you’ll crush me! You’re not as strong as your father yet, but you’ve certainly inherited plenty of strength,” the badger grumbled with a wheeze.

“So we’re going to the Tower of Silent Scrolls? But what then? Raghar already has his own personal army, and if he managed to intoxicate them, he’ll keep recruiting followers the same way.”

“You’re as impulsive as ever, my young friend. You were in the Hall of Accord too and inhaled Vella’s venomous vapors. Describe it to me — did you feel anything new?”

Arun fell into thought. After a moment, he shuddered, remembering what he had felt in the Hall of Accord.

“When Raghar started shouting, and later when his beasts burst in, I froze. My paws went cold, as if the blood had stopped flowing through them. And my heart beat differently, strangely — not ‘thump-thump,’ but ‘thump… thump…’ A lump of air got stuck in my throat — I couldn’t swallow it or breathe it out. And just before I lunged at the Guardian of Fire, it was as if a red haze fell over my eyes. Everything pounded in my ears, and my chest grew hot, as if someone had placed a burning coal inside. My paws began to tremble, and the lump in my throat turned to fire — not letting me cry out, only forcing a growl.”

“And what do you feel now when you think of Raghar?”

Arun pondered and began listening to his own feelings. What he had experienced in the Hall of Accord was gone.

“I feel sorry for the Guardians — they’re prisoners now. I truly hope nothing happens to them. Though, wait… when I think of them, I get that same feeling I had when my paws went numb and the lump appeared in my throat. It comes when I wonder… what if something happens to them. And when I think of Raghar…” Arun thoughtfully rubbed his chin with a paw. “I feel pity too, but stronger — it echoes as actual pain in my heart. I’m deeply sorry for what happened to his son, Raju. They told me we played together as children, but to be honest, I don’t remember. They even said that on that fateful day, we went to that lake together. And I feel sorry for Roxana too.”

“But you don’t feel the heat in your chest or trembling in your paws?” Corwin helped Arun untangle his feelings.

“No, definitely not — I don’t feel that at all.”

“Then Vella’s venom has only a short-lived effect. You began experiencing negative emotions under its influence, but once you moved away and time passed, they faded again — or perhaps your pure heart neutralized them. That means we can fight them, and not all is lost.”

“Wait, Corwin. But if that’s true… could Raghar be right? Could beasts learn to cope with their emotions, to live even while feeling darkness?”

“Arun, don’t even think about it. When the Stone of Evil appeared out of nowhere on that fateful day, its purpose was to prevent the chaos that had ravaged our world from ever returning. Dark feelings will come back — and someday it will all happen again. Has life been so terrible for us without wars and killings all this time?”

“No, of course not, Corwin…” Arun guiltily tucked his head into his shoulders, just as he did during lessons when the old badger scolded him for unfinished assignments.

“Alright, alright, my boy,” the badger softened, looking at his ward. “In any case, we must reach safety as quickly as possible. Let’s go to Lyra, and then we’ll decide what to do next.”

Arun nodded gratefully to the badger. After all, he was still too young, and the burden that had fallen upon him prematurely was heavy to bear.

Chapter II. Forest of Silent Roots

The young raccoon froze before a tree marked with a white cross. His ears trembled slightly, and his nose twitched amusingly. Though Nix and Pyatak had left the mark for their pursuers, Muffin knew his friends could easily resort to trickery to throw the guards off their trail. Nix always played dirty when he took on the role of bandit.

But Muffin wasn’t so easily fooled — not like the girls on his team today, Bead and Luna. Remembering his current playmates, the raccoon frowned in annoyance. Of all the luck — to end up with two girls on his team, and Bead at that, his younger sister who had only just learned to climb trees without falling.

“Ah, too bad Dawn couldn’t make it today,” Muffin thought regretfully. Dawn was a bit older than him, so her mother kept calling her away to help more often, leaving her less and less time for games. Soon Muffin and Nix would have little time left too. The raccoons would become teenagers, and their parents would load them down completely — with chores, gathering berries and roots, and Nix would also have to collect herbs — his mother was the village healer. That was why the friends hurried to play and run through the forest as much as they could while they still had the chance.

On the other hand, it was probably good that Dawn wasn’t here today. Muffin grew shy around her, started stuttering, and acted downright foolish. Which Nix and his sister Luna immediately took advantage of, cracking their silly jokes. Bead, Muffin’s youngest sister, tried to cheer him up, but only made things worse.

And now, lost in thoughts of Dawn — of the funny black circle around her left eye — he’d lost the trail. Someone bumped into his back.

“Oops, Muffin, sorry. I got distracted,” Bead’s voice came from behind.

The raccoon turned. His little sister, having bumped into him, had toppled onto her bottom and now looked up at him with comically wide eyes. Muffin smiled. Bead was absent-minded like no one else in the village, and growing older hadn’t brought her any more attention to detail.

“Caught their scent?” Luna emerged from behind a tree.

Unlike their younger sister, Luna was thoughtful and wise beyond her years. But her excessive dreaminess interfered with her studies. Old teacher Mick constantly grumbled at her when, after asking the same question several times in a row, he couldn’t get an answer from the girl lost in her daydreams.

“You’d scent them too, if you weren’t trailing lavender everywhere,” Muffin grumbled. “Why’d you rub lavender on yourself again, Luna? For Nix?”

Luna blushed, and little Bead hurriedly launched into her favorite rhyme:

“Luna and Nix, tili-tili tatti, bride and groom so spatty.”

The names in her little chant changed in turn: Luna and Nix, then Muffin and Dawn, or Pyatak and Moly — depending on who in their group had become the latest victim.

Luna frowned and gave Bead a light tap on the back of the head, barely touching the fur on her crown. But the little one immediately pursed her lips, ready to burst into tears.

“Quiet, both of you,” Muffin hushed his younger sisters. “We’ll never catch them like this.”

And he returned to the task his sisters had interrupted. Nix’s and Pyatak’s scent disrupted the steady aroma of fresh pine needles. Muffin realized Nix had resorted to trickery, knowing his friend had the best nose in the whole village. This wouldn’t work — they’d never find their friends relying on these marks.

Muffin remembered that Pyatak, named for the speckled mask on his muzzle, had come that morning holding a bilberry pastry in each paw — ones his mother had packed for the journey. The raccoon twitched his nose again, sorting through the tapestry of scents until he caught what he needed — the aroma of dough and bilberries. There it was! Before his mind’s eye appeared a thin wisp of smoke leading in the opposite direction from the mark on the tree.

“This way!” Muffin waved to his sisters and darted into the bushes.

They found their friends not far off. The raccoons lay sprawled on the grass, their muzzles smeared with red juice, surrounded by bilberry bushes.

“Well then, why aren’t you even hiding?” Bead asked plaintively.

Pyatak, who lay clutching his rounded belly, lazily drawled:

“Waiting for you lot to catch up killed all the fun of playing. But then we spotted bilberries — so we decided to have a snack.”

“You just ate two bilberry pastries this morning, glutton,” Luna rolled her eyes skyward, prompting Bead to giggle.

“What can you do? We’re growing creatures — we need to eat constantly,” Nix declared importantly.

“The way you eat, you should be the size of a bull by now. Where does it all go?” Muffin smirked.

“History is silent on this matter,” Bead repeated with solemn importance a phrase she’d overheard somewhere.

“History! History lesson! Old Olwin will skin us alive!!!” Nix suddenly remembered and leaped to his feet.

The friends exchanged glances. How could they have forgotten? Today was Remembrance Day, when old Professor Olwin — as he called himself and demanded all beasts address him — would once again recount the history of Relion.

“And besides, today’s lesson is supposed to be about the Great War,” Luna gasped, paws flying to her muzzle.

“Run!!” Nix, the nimblest and fastest of them, shot off toward the village first.

The friends immediately followed his example and dashed after their companion, who had already vanished into the undergrowth.

When Muffin had nearly reached the edge of the bilberry clearing, his younger sister’s cry stopped him:

“Wait for me!”

Bead had already fallen behind — what would happen by the time they reached the village? The older raccoons always forgot about Muffin and Luna’s little sister. Muffin’s shoulders slumped — he now had no doubt that, unlike his friends, he would definitely be late for the lesson they’d already forgotten about.

“Go on ahead of me,” Muffin said resignedly to his sister, stepping aside to let her pass.

“Thank you, Muffie, you’re always so caring,” Bead stopped beside her brother and kissed him on the cheek, then raced off toward the village with all her might.

This softened the blow of his impending encounter with Professor Olwin, which would inevitably begin with a lecture now. Seeing her brother upset about falling behind the others, Bead picked up speed, leaped onto a tree, and ran along a thin branch. And, as always, one of her paws slipped, and with a squeak she tumbled backward.

Muffin was ready. He coiled like a spring and caught his sister midair. Landing on the ground, he gently released his teeth and set the whimpering Bead down.

“Climb onto my back and hold on tight with your paws,” he said wearily.

His chances of making it to history class on time were vanishing with each passing moment, and now, with his younger sister on his back, he definitely wouldn’t catch up.

***

When they crept out of the bushes onto the Meadow of Knowledge, where old Olwin usually held his history lessons, all the beasts were already gathered. His friends were already sitting there too, as if nothing had happened, at the edge of the meadow. Nix winked at his friend and drew a finger across his throat — a sign that Muffin was in for trouble now. And indeed, the professor was staring intently at the latecomers.

“Oh, let me get a better look at this wonder-raccoon,” Professor Olwin pretended to adjust his spectacles and, amid the laughter of the other young beasts, continued: “Could it truly be the great hero of Relion — Muffin himself — gracing us ordinary forest dwellers with his presence? Whom did you save this time? Our village, or perhaps the Keeper of the Center and the Guardians of the Stone, or maybe the entire realm of Relion at once?”

Muffin stood shamefaced and silent. Everyone in the village knew the raccoon often daydreamed and imagined himself a great hero — at the very least like the ancestor of raccoons who had once tamed the Stone of Evil.

Bead came to his rescue, already seated beside Luna:

“Muffin saved me today. I fell from a branch, and he caught me in midair. Then he carried me all the way on his back.”

“Well then, if that is truly the case, my young friend, I offer my apologies for my improper remarks toward you.” And the old marmot bowed apologetically to Muffin, flustering him even more.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing…” the raccoon mumbled under the giggles of Nix and Pyatak and sat down between them and the girls.

Dawn was there too. She gave the latecomer a slight smile, and at that smile he instantly forgot all the professor’s teasing and his friends’ laughter. Muffin awkwardly smiled back.

“Well then, now that everyone’s here, we may begin today’s history lesson.”

Sighs rose from all sides. Only Muffin waited for the start with genuine interest. The lesson about the Great War was one of his favorites.

Olwin tapped his stick against the stone lying beside him, and all sighs immediately ceased. The professor nodded in satisfaction and began the lesson.

“More than a hundred years ago, our world was completely different. Not as it is now — » he hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word — “gentle and peaceful. It was full of dangers. Predators hunted their prey, some even for amusement rather than sustenance. Herbivores lived in fear, but because of that they grew stronger and more agile…”

“You sound almost regretful about those times,” Nix interrupted the professor. “Was it good that beasts killed one another?”

“Do not interrupt me,” the marmot replied calmly, entirely unruffled by Muffin’s friend’s question. “You may debate such matters during ‘Important Conversations’ class. For now, listen and remember.”

Nix made a displeased face, but Olwin, ignoring him, continued the lesson:

“So it was — beasts were as nature had made them. Whether that was good or bad, it simply was, and we cannot change it now. Until Vella came…”

“And who is Vella?” someone among the little ones asked cautiously — those who hadn’t yet heard the story of the Great War.

“Vella — the poison dart frog. Many call her a monster, while others say she merely wished to stop feeling so alone.”

“And why did she feel lonely?” This came from little kindhearted Bead. She always felt uneasy when someone was suffering.

“You see, little one, poison dart frogs have a unique trait — their skin emits vapors that are mostly poisonous to all others. Therefore they live apart from other beasts. So Vella lived with her family far from the rest, but for some reason she was left alone in childhood. No one could help her, for the moment any beast drew near, they would begin to lose their minds to rage and fury. To Vella’s credit, she could not accept this fate, so she secluded herself in a place later named Vella’s Gardens, where she cultivated medicinal plants capable of neutralizing her poison. Years passed, and as she believed, she created an antidote. But by then, perhaps her mind had already grown clouded. How else to explain what she did next? Vella entered the capital, her entire body emitting poison, and the beasts who inhaled those vapors changed. All that was good within them vanished, leaving only hatred. And thus the Great War began — merciless and meaningless. Friend turned upon friend, brother betrayed brother. Upon the Field of Great Suffering, born from the pain of a thousand fallen and washed by the tears of mothers mourning their children, the Stone of Evil emerged — a pulsing knot of darkness. The future Council and the lion-king attempted to seal it away, but it repelled them again and again, sensing their fear and feeding on the pain of other beasts.”

“And how did they manage to subdue it?” one of the young beasts asked.

“A young raccoon who had lost his entire family was able to approach the Stone of Evil — and it did not repel him. Because the raccoon did not fear it. Forever will beasts remember the hero’s words: ‘I am not afraid of you. You are part of us, but today we will choose differently.’ And the stone grew calm. Then the lion-king brought forth a casket into which they sealed the Stone, locking it away forever. The Key was divided into five parts and given to the Guardians, who later formed the Council. But the raccoon refused to become the fifth guardian, for he understood that saving the world did not lie in suppressing feelings. He took his shard of the Key, and they named him the Keeper of the Threshold.”

“And what happened after they sealed away the Stone of Evil?” Luna asked.

“Upon appearing, the Stone of Evil had absorbed all the dark feelings of the beasts. Therefore, after it was locked away, everyone forgot what anger, fear, hatred, and envy were. Yes, beasts felt hollow at first, but the War ended, and in time they learned to live this way.”

“And what became of Vella?” Nix asked curiously.

“At first the beasts wished to execute her. Wrapping cloths around their muzzles, they seized her — but realized no one felt hatred toward her. And the executioner said: ‘I cannot kill a living creature — there has been too much killing today already.’ And so the Council imprisoned her in the Ice Prison.”

“And the Keeper of the Threshold? He was our ancestor, wasn’t he?” Muffin asked hopefully.

“Well, certainly yours, great hero,” the marmot teased, and everyone laughed. “In truth, no one knows which raccoon settlement the Keeper of the Threshold founded. Every village claims to be descended from him. That concludes today’s lesson. Homework — recite the ‘Code of Purity’ five times.”

The beasts sighed wearily and began to disperse. Only Muffin remained, once again lost in thought about the Keeper of the Threshold.

***

That evening, after dinner, Muffin lay on a hillock near the village gazing at the stars. He thought about today’s history lesson. He had heard the tale of the Great War hundreds of times and knew its events by heart. But today, for some reason, new thoughts arose in him — ones he had never considered before.

Usually, everything concerning the Great War revolved around the Keeper of the Threshold. He was Muffin’s idol, though every elder in the village told his story differently. To the young raccoon, he had always been a brave, noble savior of their world. Muffin never doubted for a second that it was the Keeper who had founded the Forest of Silent Roots — despite having absolutely no proof. The adults and his friends laughed at him, but his faith remained unshakable.

So what new thoughts had visited the young raccoon today? He wondered whether he could have lived in that world — the one before the Great War. What would he have been like if the Stone of Evil had never swallowed all the dark emotions? And beyond himself — what would the world itself have been like?

He lay there, gazing at the stars, thinking about war. About the Eternal War. About the Keeper of the Threshold. And he wondered — could he have calmed the Stone too? His ancestor had approached it without fear and tamed it.

But he didn’t even know what fear was. A word — just an ordinary word: f-e-a-r, four letters — and no emotion behind it.

Could he even live in a world where forbidden feelings existed? Anger, fear, hatred, envy, jealousy — for him, as for all the living, these were merely words.

The raccoon tried to imagine an enraged wolf or tiger lunging at him, muzzle foaming with red froth dripping from its fangs, eyes bloodshot. No… Better let it lunge at Bead — he’d surely be afraid for her. Though no, better at Dawn.

Now the predator loomed over her, raising its paws as if to say: “I’ll eat you, rabbit.” Muffin giggled — the rabbit before the beast was no longer Dawn, but a frightened doe. Why a doe? Just a moment ago it had been a rabbit… Blast it all. Even the doe looked frightened — so fear was when ears drooped and the head tucked into the shoulders? Then all beasts must feel fear before Professor Olwin and Teacher Mick. The predator in Muffin’s thoughts looked at him in surprise — where had the raccoon gone?

At this, Muffin laughed even harder and rolled across the grass, clutching his aching belly.

“Look, Dawn, our friend’s gone mad. Maybe it’s rabies?” Nix’s voice came from above him.

“What’s gotten into you?” That was Dawn’s voice.

“I swapped the raccoon for a doe in front of the predator,” Muffin gasped between fits of laughter, rolling even more uncontrollably.

His friends exchanged puzzled glances, and Nix even twirled a finger beside his temple. Muffin finally stopped laughing and explained what had been happening in his head.

“Why would you even think about that? You’ve heard a thousand times about the world we lived in before the Great War. Do you want that horror to happen again?” Dawn looked at him with surprise and reproach.

“I was just curious — wondered what it would be like?” Under her gaze, Muffin wilted. He’d hoped his friends would support his idea and start pondering along with him. “Can’t I even wonder anymore?”

Dawn was taken aback by his sharp tone. Yes, it had sounded too harsh. She pretended to study the stars, turning away from him and Nix. His friend rolled his eyes — “what do you expect from girls” — and placed a paw on Dawn’s shoulder to calm her. She turned and smiled at Nix.

This little scene unfolding before Muffin stirred an unpleasant feeling inside him. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he thought he wouldn’t want Nix to be his friend. In fact, it wouldn’t be bad if he left the forest altogether — just as he often said he wanted to (lately Nix had been talking more and more about becoming a traveler — after all, the world wasn’t limited to their village and the Forest of Silent Roots, which were practically the same place. The forest where the raccoons’ village lay was barely larger than the village itself).

He also thought that Dawn wasn’t as beautiful as he’d believed. And besides, she constantly criticized him and questioned all his ideas. Why, Tosa was prettier and hung on Muffin’s every word. Luna, who was her friend, had even joked once at breakfast that Tosa kept a wooden plank with Muffin’s portrait carved on it.

But then Dawn turned her gaze to Muffin and smiled at him — and all the thoughts that had swarmed in his head just a second earlier instantly vanished.

“Alright, don’t be mad, silly. Truce?” And she extended her paw to him.

“I wasn’t mad,” Muffin grumbled and held the offered paw slightly longer than necessary. How he wished he could hold it like this forever, sitting on this hillock gazing at the stars. “Besides, I don’t even know what being mad means. Did you forget?”

“Oh, stop it, you two — here we go again,” Nix lightened the mood, squeezing between his friends and throwing his arms around their shoulders. “So what did you decide — could you survive in that world, buddy?”

“I couldn’t even imagine what it’s like — to be afraid,” Muffin spread his paws. “I tried, but you saw how it ended.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about something else? Maybe you’re actually a fearless hero, like the great Keeper of the Threshold, and you’re afraid of nothing? Okay, okay, don’t get worked up — I’m joking. Let’s imagine together.”

“This should be truly interesting: two blockheads, as Professor Olwin loves to call you, trying to think,” Dawn laughed — and immediately yelped in pain as Nix plucked a hair from her fur. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“What did you just feel toward me? Maybe anger or hatred? How would you describe those feelings?” Nix attempted a wise expression on his muzzle, mimicking their old teachers.

“I felt that you’re an idiot. And since you’re an idiot, I should stay far away from you,” Dawn made a face, rubbing the spot where her friend had pulled the hair and cautiously stepping back a couple of paces.

“Well, the experiment failed,” Nix pretended to be disappointed, then immediately turned his gaze to Muffin, poking him with the plucked hair. “And what do you say, colleague?”

“What should I say? You pulled a hair from Dawn, not from me. And I’m forced to agree — you’re an idiot the likes of which the world has yet to see.”

“Sure, sure,” Muffin’s friend chuckled and winked at him. He’d long suspected his secret crush on their mutual friend.

Muffin pretended not to notice the smirk and Nix’s silly gesture. Dawn saved him.

“And you, Nix — what would you feel if, say, during a lesson Professor Olwin or Teacher Mick praised everyone else but once again told you that even the littlest kits are smarter than you?”

“ — So what?” Nix snorted. “Big deal — what good are your smarts anyway? It’s far more important to climb higher than anyone else in the trees or leap from branch to branch. Or to have a nose like Muffin’s — better than all the rest. Your studying is just a useless waste of time.”

“Ah, so you’re jealous that Muffin has a better nose than you?” Dawn seized the opportunity.

“No, jealous of what? It’s better for me — he’s always with me. Less effort when I need to find something.” And Nix slapped his friend on the shoulder.

“Then another situation. The upcoming Autumn Festival…”

“Oh, yes! All the prizes will be mine again — I’ll gather sweets and gifts,” the raccoon dreamily rolled his eyes, imagining yet another victory in the contest.

“Don’t interrupt. And — nope — Muffin wins everything. How would you like that?” Dawn smiled slyly.

“No, that can’t happen. I’m nimbler, faster, and stronger,” Nix replied smugly.

“What’s this ‘faster, nimbler’? I just can’t be bothered,” Muffin grumbled. “But Nix is right: I’m better at some things, he’s better at others. There’ll be enough sweets for everyone. He’ll win another contest, and I won’t mind helping Mom around the house to get sweets anyway.”

“Exactly. Even if that happened, there’d be enough sweets for all — and besides, we always share with each other anyway. I’d give most of my prizes to you, my friends. But imagine this — you’re not chosen as Autumn Queen at the dances. Tosa is. What would you feel then?”

Dawn pondered, wrinkling her nose adorably, and after brief consideration replied:

“I’d be happy for her. She’s my sister, after all, and very beautiful.”

“The experiment is a total failure,” Nix concluded. “In the old world, we wouldn’t have survived — or we’d have been outcasts.”

“So what’s wrong with that? Being friendly, kind, and caring? We’re friends after all — and practically one big family,” Muffin said cheerfully and added: “And even if dark feelings returned, our kindness and friendship would easily defeat them.”

“Yes, that’s true, Muffie,” — at the tender nickname Dawn gave him, a foolish grin spread across Muffin’s muzzle — “By the way, has anyone heard anything about the Autumn Festival? There’ll be new contests and unusual prizes.”

And just like that, the friends forgot all about dark feelings, the Great War, and the Stone of Evil — for those things belonged to a distant past, far away from their quiet, peaceful world. Besides, they’d decided their friendship could overcome any evil. Right now, discussing the upcoming festival was far more interesting.

***

At that very moment, in the City of Silence, on its main square — the Square of Tears — drums were being beaten and fires lit, from which rose strange bluish smoke.

On the final step of the staircase leading to the Ancestors’ Castle stood the former Guardian of Fire, now bearing the name the Awakened. Raghar gazed at the orderly rows of beasts before him, gathered at the base of the stairs. Hundreds of animals had assembled here today — not only predators. Those who wished to awaken from their slumber, to breathe fully once more, to become whole.

Smoke from the fires drifted among the beasts. As they inhaled it, their eyes ignited with fire. Predators clenched their paws; those who could unsheathed their claws, retracted them, and unsheathed them again. Others stamped their hooves against the cobblestones. Bulls and rhinos’ eyes grew bloodshot from the fumes.

A moment later — brawls and scuffles broke out among the crowd.

“ENOUGH!!!” the tiger’s roar shattered the silence like thunder. “I awakened you not so you would tear each other’s throats out. I gave you freedom not so you would plunge the world into chaos once more. Responsibility rests upon you — as the first to reclaim yourselves. For now, you will maintain order in the city. Later, when you learn to master your emotions and teach others to do the same, you may return to your families and live full lives.”

The quarrels among the beasts ceased at once. The tiger’s voice, together with the blue smoke, exerted a magical effect upon them — they wished to obey him and never considered disobedience. As one organism, they dropped to their knees and bowed to the Awakened.

Raghar sighed. This was not at all what he had wanted when awakening them. But for now he needed a personal army — sooner or later Arun would rally his subjects and seek to reclaim the Key. Unless the tiger found it first.

Let it be this way. Let them call him the Awakened. When he granted them the freedom that would no longer require Vella’s venom to sustain, they would live ordinary lives.

The tiger entered the castle, his new bodyguards trailing behind him like shadows.

From the roof of one of the houses, an old crow observed the entire ritual. When the tiger disappeared into the Ancestors’ Castle, the crow clicked his beak regretfully, spread his dull wings, and took flight — he had to reach his old friend living in the Forest of Silent Roots in time to warn him.

***

Several days later, the old crow landed heavily on the fence surrounding a small homestead. The fence had stood here almost since the dwelling was first built — not for protection, but merely for propriety, to mark personal boundaries. Who would need protection here in the forest, surrounded only by kin? Besides, when the house was built, all dark feelings had long since been locked away inside the Stone of Evil.

Branwen wearily shook his wings, shaking off exhaustion, and croaked hoarsely.

“Oh my, who do we have here?” a voice came from the small dwelling.

A moment later an old raccoon emerged. He squinted against the sun, his grey-silver fur increasingly taking on an ashen hue. Over his shoulders he wore a vest knitted from sheep’s wool — he’d sent his son to trade for wool with the sheep on the field bordering the Forest of Silent Roots the previous winter, and his daughter-in-law, skilled with needles, had quickly knitted him proper clothing. Lately old Cori, as the raccoon was called, had been shivering even in warm weather.

“Branwen, is that you, feathered fool?”

“And who among noble birds would be so kind as to keep company with a worthless old raccoon?” Branwen fluttered down to Cori and raised a wing in greeting.

“What brings you here? Surely not for the Autumn Festival? It’s still too early, and such a long flight…”

“Water,” Branwen croaked hoarsely. Politeness had prevented him from asking to drink immediately before greeting his friend, though his throat burned with thirst.

“Perhaps a herbal infusion? Berry juice? Compote?” Cori hospitably began offering his old friend.

“ — Later, maybe later — just water now,” Branwen begged hoarsely.

The raccoon went inside, inviting the crow to follow, but the bird remained outside, nervously ruffling his feathers. When Cori returned with a cup of water, Branwen drank it greedily and gestured for more. Only after the third cup did he shake himself, scattering droplets from his plumage, exhale deeply, and say:

“Trouble, my friend. Trouble.”

“What happened?” the raccoon asked in surprise.

“Raghar, the Guardian of Fire, has seized the Key and wants to release the Stone of Evil.” And the crow briefly recounted the events of recent days: what had occurred at the Council meeting and afterward.

“Don’t panic. You yourself said the young ruler managed to escape — meaning the tiger hasn’t gotten the Stone yet. Right? When you flew away, Arun was still free?”

“No one knows where he’s gone. From conversations I overheard among Raghar’s followers, when they reached the Ancestors’ Castle, the servants said Arun hadn’t appeared. They searched — and indeed, his belongings in his chambers were untouched. But the casket was gone. And old Corwin, Arun’s teacher, has vanished too.”

“Hm, that’s good news for now. What about the beasts who haven’t yet fallen under Raghar’s influence?”

“Should you even be worrying about that, you old fool?” Cori asked in surprise. “Don’t you understand that…”

“Wait…” the raccoon interrupted the crow. “Let’s take this step by step. Why are you so restless?”

“I felt fear, Cori,” the crow whispered, lowering his voice. Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat at the memory, he continued just as quietly: “When they lit the fires, I — old fool that I am — should have stayed high on the roof where the smoke couldn’t reach me. But I wanted to learn more about what was happening. I had to descend lower… and when I inhaled the smoke, I became afraid. I remember my grandfather’s stories — that feeling is unmistakable.”

“What frightened you, my friend?” Cori asked as gently as he could.

“At first I learned Raghar had sent a detachment this way. I was afraid for you. Then, when I felt that fear… I grew afraid of what will happen when the Stone of Evil sees freedom again.”

“Stop! Here — *here*?” Cori only just grasped the meaning of Branwen’s words. “Why? Does he know everything?”

“Apparently so. Raghar isn’t a fool. For years he’s studied ancient scrolls, spoken with Vella, sent scouts to every corner of the world. He needs the fifth fragment of the Key.”

“That’s actually good,” the old raccoon mused thoughtfully.

“Have you lost your mind completely? What’s good about it? Soon a detachment of predators will arrive here. And what if they haven’t yet mastered these new feelings? It could end very badly for you — and for the whole village.”

“Well, no one knows the fragment is with me. And I won’t reveal that secret even under threat of death. You know — but I trust you have the sense to fly as far away from these lands and this Stone business as possible. Still… the fact that the tiger seeks the final piece of the Key means he hasn’t completely lost his mind — you remember what happens if you open the casket with the Key alone, without a neutralizer?”

“But you understand this is merely his backup plan — his best option. From his actions, it’s clear he *can* open the casket with the Key alone.”

“Yes, and that’s certainly a drawback. But let us hope the rightful ruler of Relion will intervene. Now — what of the beasts who haven’t yet fallen under Raghar’s influence?”

“Fires burn constantly, but most beasts — both predators and herbivores — are in no hurry to succumb to the venom’s influence. They hide in their homes, wrap their muzzles, many have fled the city. By the time I flew to you, Raghar’s followers had already begun forcibly capturing the ‘unawakened.’”

“Then our hope lies with the lion — that despite his youth, he won’t cowardly flee, but will gather an army, reclaim the Key, and restore the Council. And the Guardians? Are they unharmed?

“Raghar left them untouched — placed them under house arrest. Didn’t even send them to prison. They remain at home under watch.”

“The tiger behaves with surprising nobility. Why did he orchestrate all this? If he’d simply succumbed to Vella’s venom and gone mad, I could understand. But his actions are rational — I truly don’t comprehend it.”

“What rational actions, raccoon?” the crow bristled. “He wants to unleash the Stone of Evil — isn’t that the first sign of madness?”

“ — Alright, that’s not the priority right now. The main thing is they don’t get their paws on the last fragment.”

“Shhh… I don’t want to know anything more about this. Such knowledge will bring trouble to anyone who knows even a little about the Key.”

“You’re absolutely right, my friend. I won’t put your life at risk. So — will you have something to drink?”

“Do I have time for infusions? I’ve moistened my throat, warned you — now I must fly far away, to a place where the wind won’t carry Vella’s venom.”

“By the way — are you under its influence?” Cori asked his friend curiously.

The crow fell silent for a moment, listening to his own feelings. Then, out of habit, he shook his wings — as he had recently shaken off water droplets, only now he was shaking off unpleasant memories.

“No. Everything’s as it was before that day in the square,” he said confidently.

“Good. That means the venom has only a temporary effect and must be maintained. But we shouldn’t rule out a cumulative effect either. Probably no one alive could tell us about the venom now — except Vella herself. And she certainly wouldn’t help anyone, not even with stories.”

“Not yet… unless the Stone is released…” And the friends fell silent, afraid even to speak such a possibility aloud.

For several minutes they stood there, each lost in their own thoughts. The pause stretched, and the crow was the first to break it.

“Take care of yourself, old friend. I must fly. I hope you’ll still have time to treat me to your infusion someday, and we’ll spend many evenings talking.”

“Of course I will,” the raccoon said, embracing his old friend tightly in farewell. “After all, good always triumphs. We just need to wait a little and endure — and everything will be set right.”

“Only this time we may not be facing evil… his motives are too unclear,” Branwen said enigmatically, thinking of Raghar. Then he fluttered his wings once more in farewell and took flight.

Cori stood for several more minutes, gazing in the direction his friend had vanished. Then he started, as if remembering that every minute was precious, and hurried into the house.

Chapter III. The Night Trouble Came

Muffin woke up in a wonderful mood and allowed himself a few extra moments lounging in bed. Today he was free to do as he pleased — if, of course, his parents didn’t invent new chores. The raccoon ran through possible tasks in his head and happily concluded that today he was as free as the wind.

Through the door to his room drifted the aroma of pancakes. Muffin twitched his nose — yes, pancakes for breakfast. Regretfully, he tossed aside his blanket and hurried to the table: whenever his mother baked, there was a real risk of going hungry. No one would eat his portion, of course, but counting on seconds was unwise.

The whole family had already gathered in the kitchen. His mother, wearing an apron, was still cooking pancakes, skillfully flipping them from the skillet directly onto the stack rising on the table. Luna was spreading butter on them — though only every other one, since she fairly divided the pancakes between herself and the others: one for her mouth, the next for everyone else. His father sat at the head of the table, paws holding the latest issue of the *Roots Herald*. Muffin had always wondered what news a village newspaper could possibly contain when all gossip instantly reached every ear — but the villagers cherished this connection to the wider world. So each week they eagerly awaited the new edition of the *Herald*.

Bead, as always, sat fussing over her food. Even her father, judging by his satisfied expression and empty plate smeared with syrup, had already polished off a respectable number of pancakes.

“Bead, eat up,” Alma — Muffin’s mother — scolded her youngest daughter for the umpteenth time.

“I am eating,” Bead whined plaintively and again tried to peek at her father’s newspaper.

“Barhan, finally say something to her, or she’ll spend another two hours staring at a single pancake.”

The head of the household sighed in annoyance — he was tired of this daily battle with his youngest daughter over food. He folded back the corner of the newspaper to reveal his face and looked sternly at Bead.

“Eat up, or your mother will serve you insect larvae instead of pancakes.”

The girl squeaked in fright and began nibbling at her pancake. Her enthusiasm didn’t last long, however, and within a couple of minutes she was occupied with anything but breakfast.

“There’s our sleepyhead,” Alma smiled tenderly, spotting Muffin in the doorway. “Come join us before everything gets cold.”

The raccoon didn’t need to be asked twice — besides, the kitchen aromas had his stomach growling loudly. In a single leap he reached the table and, without even sitting down, reached for a pancake — but his father’s stern voice stopped him instantly:

“Did you wash up? Clean your paws?”

The young raccoon sighed resignedly and hurried outside to wash before everything really did get cold and eaten without him. His father watched his son go with satisfaction — at least someone in this house still listened to him.

Today the weather was perfect. Not a single cloud in the sky, not even a hint of autumn’s chilly wind. The sun, sensing it would soon yield to autumn’s heavy grey clouds, generously bestowed its warmth.

Snorting, the raccoon splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and scrubbed his paws clean — just in case his parents decided to check. A butterfly landed on his nose just then, and while he shooed it away, he stepped straight into the puddle beneath the washbasin. Now he had to wash his paws again — this time from real dirt, not imaginary germs.

When he returned, the pancake stack hadn’t grown, though his mother had already finished cooking. Muffin shot an annoyed glance at Luna, who leaned back in her chair, blissfully clutching her belly. *"Glutton,“* her brother thought with irritation and hurried to take the seat beside his sister. He immediately grabbed three pancakes for himself and generously spooned blueberry jam into his plate — the little jar was already half empty. Muffin shot another displeased look at Luna. She winked at him and, unseen by their parents, stuck out her tongue.

“Bead, are you going to eat or not? How much longer must we fight over this?” Alma asked her youngest daughter, her voice noticeably sharper now.

Muffin glanced at Bead’s plate: during the time he’d spent on his morning routine, not a single bite had disappeared. “Well, at least I won’t go hungry because of her,” the raccoon smirked to himself and gulped down the first pancake in one go.

“Muffin, where are you rushing to? Slow down,” his mother turned her attention to him now.

“ — Sorry,” Muffin replied through a mouthful of food, but slowed his chewing.

It was clear Bead had thoroughly spoiled her mother’s mood — as she did at nearly every meal. But she’d calm down soon enough.

“Mom, Dad, why is Muffie called *Muffin*? Did you run out of normal names when you were picking his?” Bead piped up, as usual occupied with everything under the sun except eating her food.

Muffin nearly choked on his pancake at such audacity. What was wrong with his name? It was a perfectly fine name. And what about hers — not Dawn, not Luna, not Tosa, but *Bead*.

“I’ve got a perfectly normal name,” he grumbled at his younger sister, balling his paw into a fist.

Bead merely stuck out her tongue and turned her attention to the other family members — she clearly had no intention of surrendering to the hated meal.

“When Muffin was born, it was during the Great Famine,” Luna announced solemnly, recalling her brother’s passion for legends and tales — anything “grand” and epic. “Everyone was terribly hungry, absolutely starving. They could think of nothing but food. So they decided to name their firstborn Muffin, which translates to: ‘He Who Brings Food To The Table.’ And just as they were about to eat him — berries came into season…”

Bead gasped. Muffin kicked his giggling sister under the table. Their mother came to the rescue:

“When Muffie was born, he was a tiny brown bundle — just like a chocolate muffin. So that’s what we named him.”

“How booooring and ordinary,” Bead sighed and resumed poking at her plate.

“Eat up — when I eat, I’m deaf and dumb,” Muffin hissed at the youngest raccoon in the family, reminding everyone of Bead’s chronic problem.

“That’s enough bickering,” their mother frowned — a gesture she considered the height of sternness, though the children only burst into laughter together.

“So what are everyone’s plans for today? Not counting Bead — she’ll be at breakfast until midday, then straight to lunch, and so the cycle continues.” Alma sighed and, instead of eating herself, began spoon-feeding her daughter.

“I’m going with Cedar and her sister to gather leaves for autumn bouquets. We want to make the most beautiful bouquet for the Autumn Festival.”

“ — With Dawn?” Muffin even stopped chewing at the name that always stole his breath. “What would she want with you little ones?”

“Well, not with you and your silly friend Nix, that’s for sure. She’d drool all over you, and your dumb friend’s dumb jokes would give anyone a headache,” Luna said cheerfully and stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“What do you mean, drool? Muffin, do you have excessive salivation? That’s very serious — answer me,” Alma immediately grew concerned.

Muffin wanted to kick his sister under the table again, but she’d wisely hidden her paws — and his brother’s foot hit the chair leg instead.

“Ouch,” he squeaked in pain.

Bead promptly joined the conversation about Dawn:

“Even *I* know Muffin’s pining for Dawn — tili-tili tatti, bride and groom so spatty,” she chirped happily, skillfully dodging another spoonful of breakfast Alma was trying to force into her.

“Shut up,” her brother hissed, recovering from the pain.

“Don’t speak so rudely, young raccoon,” his father looked up from his newspaper, peering over the edge of the *Herald*. “And if you like a girl, tell her straight out — don’t be shy. I told your mother right away.”

His mother snorted, remembering how Barhan used to stutter the moment she appeared — not to mention actually starting a conversation with her. But she didn’t betray her husband.

“But what if she says she doesn’t like me — or laughs at my confession? I’m just asking hypothetically, in case she *did* like me — but she doesn’t, really,” the son asked cautiously.

“Well then, no big deal if that happens. Don’t take it to heart — there’ll be another ‘Dawn’ who won’t say that and won’t laugh at you.”

“An even better one than the real ‘Dawn’, ” little Bead winked at her brother.

“I never said she likes me — I’m just asking out of curiosity,” the raccoon pretended to be deeply absorbed in his breakfast.

“And what about you, Muffie — what will you do today?” Alma smoothly changed the subject from the uncomfortable topic, saving her son.

“ — Not much planned. Nix and Pyatak went to the pond, but I don’t feel like joining them — I’d rather lounge around and read.”

“Just like old Cori… You’d be better off going to the pond with the boys while it’s still warm,” Alma sighed.

“Nah, they’re going fishing, not swimming,” her son waved a paw dismissively.

“Well then, can I ask you for a favor?” His mother had finally managed to feed Bead and set down her fork. “I wanted to bake a blueberry pie today, but it won’t be ready before evening. Could you take it to Grandfather? You could have dinner with him too — he actually asked you to stop by and help him with something.”

“To Grandpa Cori?” Muffin brightened immediately. He adored listening to the old raccoon’s stories about the Keeper of the Threshold and the Great War. “So I can stay overnight too? I’ll go in the evening so I don’t have to come back late. Besides, what if his ‘help’ drags on until night?”