The Dyatlov Pass Incident. Mystery of the Fireballs

Itokai grabbed Maxim’s arm:

“He’s speaking of the sacred mountain… warning… ‘Don’t go there…’”

At that moment, the glowing object began slowly descending. Its tail curved, forming a luminous arc in the sky. Tibo still floated in the air, his figure with outstretched arms casting a strange shadow on the mountain slope.

“Quick, take the picture!” Yudin shouted. “While they’re both here!”

Dyatlov aimed his lens to capture both Tibo and the mysterious object in the sky. At that moment, something strange began happening with the light – it seemed to condense around Brignolles’s floating figure.

“What’s happening?” whispered Maxim, gripping the device in his pocket tighter. It vibrated more intensely, almost burning his hand.

Tibo suddenly spoke again, but now his voice sounded different – as if someone else was speaking through him, someone more ancient and powerful:

“The time will soon come… Kholat Syakhl… nine steps… the sacred mountain calls…”

His words echoed off Belukha’s slopes. The next instant, the comet-like object shot upward and vanished into the sky, leaving only a glowing trail.

Tibo slowly descended to the ground. He looked exhausted, but his eyes burned with a strange fire.

“What was that?” asked Dyatlov, running to him. “What did you see?”

“I… I don’t remember,” Tibo rubbed his temples. “It felt like someone was speaking through me. And visions… many visions.”

“What visions?” Dyatlov took out his notebook, ready to write.

“A mountain… different from Belukha. Dark, with a flat top. And nine figures in the snow…” Tibo spoke slowly, as if trying to hold onto fleeting images. “Something is supposed to happen there. Something important.”

“Kholat Syakhl,” Yudin said thoughtfully. “You said that name while floating. We need to find out where exactly this mountain is.”

Maxim, Anna, and Itokai exchanged glances. They knew which mountain it was and what would happen there in less than a year.

“We need to organize an expedition,” Dyatlov said decisively. “Find this mountain.”

“Igor,” Yudin placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s first understand what’s happening here. Tibo has only just started… manifesting these abilities. We need to understand their nature.”

“Let’s take another photograph,” Dyatlov suggested after a pause. “For memory. Shall we build a pyramid?”

“Can you repeat… what happened just now?” Dyatlov asked Tibo. “For the photograph?”

Tibo nodded, though it was clear he hadn’t fully recovered from his strange trance.

“Hey, everyone!” Dyatlov called to the other group members who were nearby. “Let’s take an unusual photo!”

Soon the whole group gathered. They began building a human pyramid against the backdrop of the majestic mountains: two participants stood on their hands at the sides, two more positioned themselves in the center, three people formed the second row above them, and Tibo with his guitar was to take the highest position.

Maxim, Anna, and Itokai continued watching from their hiding place. Tibo, now familiar with his new abilities, easily ascended to the top with his guitar. As before, he seemed to lose weight, barely touching his companions’ shoulders.

The ninth group member adjusted the camera on its tripod. From above, under the cloudless sky, a strange afterglow still fell upon them – a trace of the vanished luminous object.

There was something strange about the photograph taken at that moment. Yes, everything looked normal – a cheerful tourist pyramid against the mountains, everyone smiling, Tibo with his guitar at the top. But looking closer, it wasn’t clear exactly how he was staying up there, what he was standing on.

“Perfect shot!” exclaimed the photographer, returning to the group.

“We’ll need to print several copies,” said Dyatlov, helping his companions dismantle the pyramid.

“Igor,” Yudin called quietly when everyone started dispersing. “We need to talk. About what’s happening with Tibo… and about this mountain, Kholat Syakhl.”

Maxim watched as the three – Dyatlov, Yudin, and Brignolles – moved aside and began speaking seriously. Tibo looked thoughtful, as if still under the impression of his strange experience.

Maxim, Anna, and Itokai carefully moved closer, trying to hear the conversation.

“It gets better each time,” Tibo was saying, looking at his hands. “As if I’m learning to control it. But the main thing – the visions. They’re becoming clearer.”

“What exactly do you see?” asked Dyatlov.

“A mountain… dark, with a flat top. And some lights above it, like the one we saw today. But there’s something else…” Tibo paused, searching for words. “As if the mountain itself is trying to say something. Warn us.”

“About what?” Yudin asked quietly.

“I don’t know. But it’s connected to the number nine. I keep seeing nine… something. Figures, signs, I can’t tell exactly.”

Dyatlov took out a map and unfolded it:

“We need to find this mountain. Kholat Syakhl… Should be somewhere here, in the northern part of the ridge.”

“Strange,” Yudin ran his finger over the map. “This place… there are two mountains. Kholat Syakhl and Otorten to the north.”

“Which one is it?” Dyatlov looked up from the map.

“In the visions, I see Kholat Syakhl,” Tibo answered. “The mountain with the flat top. I’m certain. There… there’s something there. Something ancient.”

A strange sound suddenly came from above – a low hum similar to that made by the luminous object. All three looked up at the sky but saw nothing.

Maxim felt a chill run down his spine. He knew this expedition would take place. And he knew how it would end.

Chapter 12 – Crossing Paths

The Dyatlov group began descending to their camp. Maxim, Anna, and Itokai waited a while before moving down themselves, taking a different route – they needed to reach the old alpine camp where Ognev would be waiting for them in two days.

“Look,” Itokai suddenly stopped, pointing to a neighboring slope. Another hiking group was visible there. In the lead walked a tall, powerfully built man in his forties. Even from a distance, his movements betrayed a military bearing.

“Is that…” Anna squinted. “Semyon Zolotarev?”

“Yes,” Maxim nodded. “A war veteran, hiking instructor. One of the future participants of that trek…”

They froze, watching as Zolotarev’s group descended the parallel slope. His gait carried the confidence of a man who had seen war. He led his group, occasionally stopping to survey the surroundings carefully.

“Strange,” Anna whispered. “It’s as if he’s searching for something.”

Itokai remained silent, but his gaze, fixed on Zolotarev, grew even more attentive.

Suddenly both groups – Dyatlov’s and Zolotarev’s – began converging. Their paths intersected at a small mountain lake.

“We need to get closer,” Maxim whispered. “This meeting… it’s important.”

They carefully approached the lake, concealing themselves behind large boulders. From here, they could clearly hear the voices of both groups.

“Hello,” Dyatlov spoke first. “Heading far?”

“To Belukha,” Zolotarev replied, appraising the group of young hikers. “And you, I see, are returning from there?”

“Yes, third day here. Amazing places,” Dyatlov studied the experienced hiker with interest. “Which route are you taking to Belukha?”

“From the Urals. I work as an instructor at the Kaurovka base. Semyon Alekseyevich.”

“We’re from UPI, hiking club,” Dyatlov introduced his companions. “I’m Igor, this is Yura, and this is Tibo… Thibeaux-Brignolles.”

At the mention of this name, Zolotarev suddenly tensed. His gaze pierced into Tibo’s face, as if trying to recall something. A strange silence hung for a moment.

Chapter 13 – Shadows of the Past

Tibet, 1935

The young guide stood at the foot of one of the world’s most majestic peaks. His attention was focused on the group preparing to depart. This was no ordinary expedition. Germans. High-ranking ones. Though he had led many difficult routes and guided various travelers, he had never encountered people quite like these.

His selection wasn’t random. He was one of the best guides, with a reputation for leading groups through the most difficult and dangerous passages that even the most experienced explorers preferred to avoid. His knowledge of local trails, unmatched endurance, and ability to read the mountains made him a valuable ally for any expedition.

This group was special. They represented an organization called Ahnenerbe – a mysterious scientific society that grew more enigmatic with each passing year. Officially, Ahnenerbe studied culture, history, and artifacts connected to ancient civilizations. However, rumors that the organization also sought occult knowledge known only to initiates made him uneasy.

“Herr Briniol,” the tall German in black uniform addressed him. “Wir sind bereit.” (in German: “We are ready.”)

Joseph Brignolles – brother of Vladimir Iosifovich Thibeaux-Brignolles – adjusted his backpack and nodded. His thoughts momentarily drifted to Volodya, now serving his exile in Russia.

“Follow me,” he commanded in German and moved forward along a barely visible trail.

Ahead lay an ancient monastery, lost high in the mountains. Joseph didn’t know that there, within those ancient walls, awaited an encounter that would change his entire family’s destiny. An old hermit monk, keeper of ancient prophecies, was already preparing for this meeting.

The group slowly advanced up the mountain trail. The Germans were well-prepared, but the altitude took its toll. Each step became increasingly difficult.

“Herr Briniol,” the expedition leader, Dr. Schäfer, addressed him. “How far to the monastery?”

“Two hours’ journey,” Joseph replied, scanning the mountain peaks. Something strange hung in the air today. A tension, as if the mountains were waiting for something.

By noon, they reached the ancient walls. The monastery appeared abandoned, but this was deceptive. Joseph knew hermits lived here, guardians of ancient knowledge.

An old monk met them at the gates. His faded eyes seemed to look through time.

“We have been expecting you,” he said in perfect German, surprising the expedition. “Especially you, Joseph Brignolles.”

Joseph froze. He had told no one his full name.

“Come with me,” the monk directed the Germans to the inner courtyard, where other monks awaited them. “And you, Joseph, I ask to follow me. We must speak privately.”

Dr. Schäfer wanted to object – group separation wasn’t part of their plans, but something in the old monk’s eyes stopped him. The Germans exchanged glances and headed to the inner courtyard, where scrolls and ancient texts they so eagerly sought awaited them.

The monk led Joseph down a narrow corridor that penetrated deep into the mountain. Oil lamps cast strange shadows on the ancient walls.

“I know you seek answers,” the monk spoke without turning. “But today you will receive knowledge you did not seek.”

They entered a small cell. In the center stood a low table bearing a worn leather-bound book.

“On the fifth of June this year,” the monk spoke quietly, but each word seemed to imprint itself in the air, “your brother will have a son. A child whose destiny is already written in the book of time.”

Joseph wanted to speak, but the monk stopped him with a gesture.

“This boy will possess a gift that manifests once in several generations. He will be able to see what is hidden from others. Feel what is inaccessible to ordinary people.”

“How… how do you know about my brother?” Joseph tried to hide the tremor in his voice.

The monk opened the ancient book. Strange symbols and drawings were visible on the yellowed pages.

“There are places of power,” the monk continued, running his finger along the lines. “Sacred mountains where the boundary between worlds grows thinner. Belukha in the Altai. Kailash here in Tibet. And there is another mountain…” he paused momentarily. “Your nephew will find it. And this will change everything.”

“Which mountain? What are you talking about?”

“Kholat Syakhl,” the monk’s expression darkened. “I see… I see snow and cold. Nine figures. And among them – your nephew. His gift will lead them there. But…” he fell silent abruptly, as if seeing something terrible.

“But what? What will happen?”

“Fate is unchangeable when paths are already drawn,” the monk raised his eyes to Joseph. “But we can prepare him. The first step – his name. The boy must be named Nikolai.”

“How can I tell my brother? He’s in exile, I can’t contact him.”

“Your brother has the right to family visits. Write to his wife. She will understand. A mother’s heart feels truth.”

The monk withdrew a small bundle from the folds of his robe.

“Take this, it’s for Nikolai,” he handed it to Joseph. “When the time comes, your nephew will play a great role and return this treasure to where it belongs. It will help him understand his gift.”

Joseph unwrapped the cloth. Inside lay a strange stone with symbols carved into it.

“And now,” the monk rose, “it’s time for you to return to the expedition. The Germans must not know of our conversation. They seek ancient knowledge, but not all knowledge is meant for everyone.”

“Wait,” Joseph clutched the amulet in his hand. “You mentioned a terrible event at Kholat Syakhl. Can it be prevented?”

“Some events must occur to keep the world in balance,” the monk moved toward the exit. “Your nephew will play his role. Just as you now play yours.”

The voices of German researchers could already be heard beyond the door…

Chapter 14 – In Search of Power

In the days that followed, the expedition pushed higher into the mountains. Joseph led the group through places unknown even to local guides. His ability to find ancient paths, sense weather patterns, and unerringly determine safe routes amazed the German researchers.

“Remarkable,” Dr. Schäfer observed, watching Joseph literally read the mountains. “He seems to be part of these mountains himself.”

On the seventh day of their journey, they discovered an entrance to a cave temple hidden in the rocks. Inside were ancient manuscripts that filled the Ahnenerbe scientists with reverent awe. The texts contained knowledge about natural forces and hidden human capabilities that modern science hadn’t even imagined.

“Herr Briniol,” Dr. Schäfer was elated. “You have rendered an invaluable service to the Reich. Your talents will be reported to the Führer personally.”

Joseph nodded in agreement, but his mind was elsewhere. The amulet needed to reach someone in his brother’s close circle, and he already had a plan. In Lhasa, he knew a reliable merchant whose caravans regularly crossed the Soviet border…

*************************************************

Upon returning to Lhasa, Dr. Schäfer informed Joseph of Ahnenerbe leadership’s decision.

“You are invited to Berlin, Herr Briniol. Reichsführer-SS Himmler himself has taken interest in your abilities. We depart in three days.”

Joseph expressed gratitude for the honor. He had little time. That same evening, he met with the merchant Chen in a small teahouse on the city’s outskirts.

“Old friend,” Joseph handed him the bundle containing the amulet. “I need your help.”

Chen listened carefully to the instructions. His caravan would soon begin its journey, and the road to the Soviet border was long. From there, the amulet would need to reach trusted hands.

“Don’t worry,” Chen said. “I know safe paths and faithful people. Your treasure will find its owner.”

Before departing, Joseph wrote a letter to his brother’s wife. In it, he asked her to name their future son Nikolai, explaining that this name held special significance for his destiny. He couldn’t reveal all the details but was confident that as a mother, she would sense the importance of his request. The letter was sent, and Joseph felt relief, knowing he had done everything possible.

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