Cinderella and Alangazar

Her fingers brushed the map,

but her gaze was fixed on Ertoshstuk.

“Approved,” she said, and in her smile,

something human trembled.

“Just… promise me. Come back.”

He nodded, just barely.

Not loudly. So as not to betray

the real reason he wanted to return.

Something deeper than command.

Deeper than duty.

He wanted to return —

for her.

They packed quickly.

Silently, smoothly.

Herbs, ropes, dried berries, knives, amulets.

The Blue Giant fastened his icy horn to his belt,

and the White one tucked a handkerchief into his pack —

embroidered by his little sister.

At the last moment, someone else joined them —

a girl from the artillery company.

Ria. Thin as a birch sapling,

but sharp with her sling —

as if the stones knew where to fly.

“If the dead are memories,” she said,

“then I know how to fight memories.”

And no one disagreed.

The dungeon did not greet them with a growl —

but with breath.

Slow.

Deep.

It was cold there.

And echoing.

Drops fell from the ceiling —

each one counting down to something important.

The walls were covered in moss, glowing green.

It pulsed, like living skin.

The air was thick —

as though the world itself moved slower here.

Ertoshstuk ran his hand along the stone.

“Here,” he whispered, “I once ate bread from ashes.

Here I defeated a giant for the first time.

But now…

it’s different.”

He wasn’t looking at the walls.

He was looking inward.

Torchlight trembled.

Behind him, the Blue Giant sang softly —

a song in an old language.

The White Giant walked silently.

And Ria – her sling at the ready.

Ahead lay darkness.

But not emptiness.

Within it – their past.

And their future.

At the third bend, the tunnel narrowed.

The stone beneath their feet was slick as ice.

The air thickened.

Torchlight flickered, as if afraid to go on.

And then – silence tore open with a rustle.

From the darkness, the dead emerged.

Their eyes shone – not with life, but emptiness.

No pain. No fear. Only silent purpose —

as if some wicked will drove them forward.

Ertoshstuk stepped ahead.

In his hand – a sword, old and scarred by battles —

the same one that had once saved his life.

Now it felt heavy,

but within that weight – the strength of everyone he had ever protected.

He cried out – not in rage, but in loyalty.

A cry like a heartbeat:

“For the living! For the light!”

And charged into battle.

The White Giant didn’t hesitate —

with a thunderous roar, he ripped stones from the wall

and hurled them at the advancing dead.

Each strike – an earthquake.

And the Blue Giant…

He sang.

Not words – power.

Not song – spell.

His voice stirred the stones,

as if the earth itself remembered how to beat.

The battle was long.

Blood – dark as night.

Blows – deep as fate’s tolling bell.

Ertoshstuk fought not with blade – but with heart.

He let not one undead touch his friends.

He was the shield. He was the flame.

And when the last guardian fell,

dissolving into dust,

a treasure hall opened before them.

But the silence there – was different.

Earned.

Peaceful. Like a temple.

Chests of gold.

Blades gleaming like dawn.

Ancient books – spells forgotten by time.

But most of all…

Among the ashes and light lay a scroll.

On it – words that made Ertoshstuk’s heart tremble:

“He who is unafraid

can protect the whole world.”

He looked at it for a long time.

Then picked up the scroll and said, quietly but firmly:

“We are not thieves. We are warriors.

We do not steal.

We guard.”

He took only what he could carry on his back.

And left the rest untouched.

Thus ended their journey.

And thus began their return.

To the light.

To Cinderella.

To those waiting at the gate.

And to a new chapter in a wondrous story,

where courage mattered more than gold,

and a heart – was stronger than any sword.

Chapter 3: Night

Night descended softly,

like a velvet blanket.

Stars spilled across the sky —

silent, as if afraid to disturb

those sitting by the fire.

The flames crackled —

warm, cozy, like home.

The fire danced in Cinderella’s eyes,

reflected on Alangazar’s cheek,

and cast light on Ertoshtuk’s shoulders

as he sat with a mug of tea in his hands.

Fox had settled closer to the fire,

wrapped his tail snugly around himself

and squinted slyly.

– “One day,” he began,

and even the flames seemed to pause to listen.

– “It was just like a fairy tale!

I was walking through the forest – calm, slow.

Suddenly – wham!

There it was, hanging from a branch:

long, juicy… a sausage!

Like a holiday garland!”c

He clicked his teeth for effect.

– “So I didn’t hesitate – chomp!

Right into my mouth.

I thought: ‘Well, fate sure has a delicious sense of humor!’”

Laughter fluttered around the circle,

like a breeze across the grass.

—

“But let me tell you – the joy was short,

as short as a rabbit’s tail,”

Fox continued, now warmed up.

—

“Out of the bushes – bam!

Come Wolf, Tiger… and Lion.

Three faces. All serious – like tax collectors.

They stare at me and say:

‘Hey, Fox, what’re you chewing so politely?’”

Cinderella smiled, hugging her knees.

Alangazar snorted, anticipating the twist.

– “I’m no fool, of course. I tell them:

‘This isn’t food! It’s a magic scarf!

I bite it – I’m full. I wrap it back up – I move on!’”

– “Oh wow!” Ertoshtuk snorted.

– “And then…” Fox drew out the pause,

glancing at each of them.

– “While they were feeling my ‘scarf’ and dreaming about it,

I – zip! – into the bushes. With the sausage!

They’re probably still looking for the recipe…”

Laughter sparkled through the air,

like flying sparks.

Alangazar slapped his knee:

– “You sly fox!

A sausage-scarf – that’s genius!”

– “A clever nose always knows where dinner’s warm,”

Fox said meaningfully,

and took a satisfied sip of tea.

The fire shimmered.

A star fell.

The night embraced them all.

And in the silence after the laughter,

there was space for warmth.

For friendship.

And for fairy tales.

The Story of the Ertoshtuk

– “The key is cleverness!” said Fox proudly, eyeing everyone,

and then nodded toward Ertoshtuk.

– “And you, dungeon hero – got a story for us?”

– “Tell us,” Cinderella chimed in.

– “Yes, please,” whispered Fox, getting comfortable.

Silence fell over the fire like a veil.

The flames quivered, as if awaiting a story.

The stars leaned closer, holding their breath.

Ertoshtuk looked up. His voice was calm, deep – like an old well.

– “Long ago, in a distant village,” he began,

– “lived a little girl. Her mother passed away early,

and her father, not wanting her to be alone, remarried.

But the new wife was cold as ice

and cruel as the February wind.”

– “There are too many like that,” sighed Cinderella,

placing a hand on Fox’s shoulder.

– “Yes,” Ertoshtuk nodded.

– “The stepmother made the girl work from dawn till dusk.

A kind word was rare —

like gold. Precious and unreachable.

And when her father passed,

she was truly alone.”

The fire crackled gently, not interrupting.

Even the crickets seemed to quiet down to listen.

– “One night, while everyone slept,

the stepmother woke the girl

and ordered her to fetch water

from a far-off well.

The girl didn’t complain —

she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders,

picked up two heavy buckets,

and walked barefoot down the damp path.”

– “How brave,” whispered Fox,

nestling closer to Cinderella.

– “The night was dark. Only the moon

lit her path with silver light.

And she walked, humming softly to herself.

Tears dropped onto the grass,

like pearls from the thread of fate.”

—

“But the stepmother wasn’t just cruel —

she was a witch.

She ordered the clouds to cover the moon.”

– “Did it get dark?” Alangazar asked,

wide-eyed, afraid to miss a word.

– “It did.

The darkness fell like a curtain.

The girl stumbled,

fell, spilled the water,

hurt her foot.

She sat down, clutched the bucket…

and cried – not from pain,

but from grief and exhaustion.

Because kindness wasn’t coming back.”

No one spoke. Only a twig crackled in the fire,

like a gentle sigh.

– “But her tears were so pure,

so true,

that the Moon awoke.

Through the thick clouds,

she stretched out a ray,

parted the darkness —

and lit the path.”

The moonlight swirled down,

wrapped around the girl,

embraced her like a mother,

and lifted her into the sky.

– “Took her?” whispered Alangazar,

shielding his eyes from the fire.

– “Yes.

Since then, the girl lives on the Moon.

She cares for the stars,

washes them with dew,

so they shine brightly.

And when you see the kindest, quietest little star in the sky —

that’s her, watching you and smiling.”

A long silence rested over the fire.

A kind, glowing silence.

Cinderella gazed at the sky,

and a tiny tear sparkled on Fox’s cheek.

– “That was beautiful,” Cinderella whispered.

– “Warm… and sad.”

– “Thank you, Ertoshtuk,” said Fox,

scratching behind his ear to hide his emotion.

– “You’re not just a warrior.

You’re a true storyteller.”

The fire sighed, the stars whispered.

And in every heart around the fire —

a drop of light remained.

The light of that girl on the Moon.

The Story of Alangazar

Alangazar slowly rose from the log. The firelight flickered across his broad face. He looked around at his friends, straightened up, and announced solemnly:

"Now listen to my tale. It’s a story my great-grandfather used to tell me when I was little.

Oh, what a giant he was!

He was so strong—

when he washed his hands, rivers changed their course!"

Everyone laughed, and Alangazar, pleased with the reaction, went on:

"When he was young, he wasn’t just strong—he was curiously strong. One day he decided to find out who was stronger: him… or a human.

Just out of curiosity!

So he walks through the forest and sees a hunter.

Looks ordinary. Skinny, even.

But there’s a spark in his eye."

"He caught him?" Fox gasped. "Like a rabbit?"

"Almost," Alangazar chuckled. "Great-granddad walks right up and says,

‘Alright, strongman—let’s test our might!’

And the hunter, without blinking, replies,

‘Who are you? Show me what you’ve got first.’"

"And did he?" Cinderella asked, her eyes shining.

"Oh, he sure did!" the giant declared proudly.

"With one hand, he yanked a tree out of the ground.

With the other—bam!—he hit a cliff so hard it cracked, and birds flew screaming from the trees!

Then he jumped—

and landed with such force he sank knee-deep into the earth!"

"Wow!" Fox breathed, her paws pressed to her chest.

"And the hunter?" Ertoshtuk asked, narrowing his eyes with interest.

Alangazar smirked:

"The hunter just brushed some dust off his shoulder.

And says: ‘That’s nothing. Let me show you real strength.’

He stomps his foot—

the ground trembles—

and from under the roots—blorp!—

comes bubbling up this white, foamy liquid."

"Eeek!" squealed Fox. "What was that?!"

"The hunter says,

‘Now that’s strength! I cracked the earth so hard, even its brains came out!’

My great-granddad’s eyes went wide, his back hunched—

and he ran! Ran so fast the wind couldn’t catch him!"

Everyone burst out laughing. Someone even clapped their hands.

"But what was it really?" Cinderella asked, laughing through her surprise.

"It was," Alangazar roared with laughter,

"ayran!

There was a goatskin nearby.

The hunter had stomped on it—pssshh!

It took great-granddad years to figure out the trick.

And when he did, he laughed so hard the neighbors' pinecones dropped from their trees!"

"Unbelievable!" Fox said in awe. "So sometimes wit is stronger than strength!"

"Ever since then," Alangazar winked,

"Great-granddad always sniffed the air before a contest—

just to check if it smelled like ayran!"

Laughter broke out again. Someone slapped their knee, another sipped their tea.

The night was clear. Stars shimmered kindly above.

The fire crackled softly, as if it too held onto these old, joyful stories,

while one by one, the storytellers shared their light with their friends.

How Cinderella Wanted to Become a Fairy

Cinderella adjusted the shoulders of her uniform, smiled softly, and looked at the crackling fire.

The flames reflected in her eyes – as if they, too, were waiting for a little magic.

– Well then, – she said, – my turn. Want to hear how, as a little girl, I dreamed of becoming… a fairy?

– A fairy?! – Alangazar, Ertoshtuk, and Fox cried out in chorus. – But you’re a commander!

– Yep, a commander, – Cinderella nodded. – But when I was six, I was sure I’d grow up to be a fairy, just like my godmother.

True, I had no wings, no wand.

But I had imagination – more than an entire enchanted army put together!

– Go on, go on! – Fox curled her tail tightly with excitement.

– I found an old broom, wrapped it in tinsel, and stuck a pot on my head – instead of a helmet.

Threw mom’s bedspread over my shoulders – like a real fairy cloak.

And off I went through the village… to make miracles!

The first giggles started by the fire.

– First, I tried to enchant the neighbor’s goat. I wanted her to fly.

So I tied some balloons to her…

But she clearly wasn’t ready for takeoff.

She jumped straight into the laundry bucket!

– Ha! – Ertoshtuk snorted. – That’s the “Fly-and-Dip” spell!

– Exactly! – Cinderella laughed. – Then I decided to turn our chicken into a princess.

I smeared glitter on her head, and hung mom’s beads around her neck.

The chicken got offended, ran into the barn – and started such an egg-party, the whole village came to watch!

– And your parents? – asked Fox, wiping tears of laughter.

– My stepmother wanted to scold me at first…

But when she saw me standing proud in a pot, draped in tinsel, next to a sparkling chicken – she just threw up her hands and laughed.

With everyone else.

And right then I thought:

Maybe I won’t become a real fairy…

But if I can make people smile —

isn’t that magic too?

Alangazar nodded with respect:

– I agree. A cheerful heart is stronger than any spell.

They all fell quiet for a moment.

The fire crackled gently.

The night wrapped around their camp like a soft, fluffy blanket.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

And above them – high as childhood dreams – the stars shimmered softly.

The Prince’s Funny Tale

The Prince stretched, adjusted his cloak, and smiled:

– Since everyone’s sharing stories… I guess I have to confess something too.

When I was little, we had… a rooster in the palace.

A regular rooster.

But for some reason – he decided he was the Guardian of the Throne.

– A rooster? Guardian of the throne?! – Alangazar roared with laughter.

– Yep! He guarded the throne room and wouldn’t let anyone in. Not even the king!

If someone came too close – he’d charge, flap his wings, and crow like he was challenging them to a duel.

– And what did you do? – asked Ertoshtuk, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

– I put on armor, a helmet two sizes too big, grabbed a wooden sword, and marched out to face him.

Picture this: me, an eight-year-old knight, against the rooster of doom!

We circled each other…

I tripped and fell,

and he – sat on my head.

Like a champion.

The servants laughed for a week straight!

– So who won in the end? – Cinderella giggled.

– My mom.

She came in, tossed the rooster a handful of grain – and he surrendered immediately.

That’s when I realized… sometimes, kindness wins where strength fails.

Especially if it comes with breakfast.

Laughter rippled around the fire. Even the flames seemed to crackle with joy.

The Prince’s Gentle Fairy Tale

The Prince grew quiet for a moment. His voice softened:

– When I was very little, I used to have the same dream.

I was in a garden, filled with glowing trees,

and there was a bird singing.

But it wasn’t a song – not really.

It was telling a story.

– What story? – asked Fox, tilting her head.

– A story about a girl with a kind heart.

She helped others – even when she was struggling herself.

And the bird said:

"When you find her, you’ll be truly happy."

The Prince looked at Cinderella and smiled gently.

– And then… I met her at the ball.

And I understood:

Sometimes, fairy tales don’t live only in dreams.

Cinderella blushed just a little,

but smiled back – warm and real.

The fire grew quieter, cozier.

Like it, too, felt the truth of a tender moment between true friends —

and something more.

The Story of the Blue Giant

The Blue Giant lived in a place where the sky was reflected in the earth.

The grass there wasn’t green, but turquoise.

And even the trees shimmered with a blueish glow.