Rituals of Forgotten Centuries

Death is the boundary that the Universe constantly crosses.



On a dying planet, where the horizon was submerged in violet radiance, a ritual began. Centuries, millennia had passed since life first appeared here, and even more—millions of years—since the moment the planet formed in cosmic space. This ritual was far from the first; on the contrary, it was one of countless others. But who knows, it might become the last. Those who glorified ancient gods praised the sun and stars, called upon and prayed to supreme powers, sought to ensure that life would continue. After all, in the end, the meaning of life lies simply in existence, and any being, every organism merely does not want to die. It lives as long as possible before its time arrives. The time appointed for the planet was long ago; and although it had not seen wars or large-scale cataclysms that erase everything in their path, this very stability gradually led to decay, decomposition, and extinction. And even the numerous rituals at first did not rectify this situation. Now they were hardly anything but relics of the past, yet a necessary relic—a ray of hope in the darkness of the endless cosmic night.



Limbs rose toward the dark gray sky with its depressive shades, beating out a intricate rhythm upon the gloomy earth covered with withered grass. Voices, unlike anything—not resembling anything but themselves—gave birth to a strange, piercing, hypnotic howl directed towards the only moon in the sky. Then, music sounded—as beautiful for them as it was alien, abhorrent, intolerable for someone else—and a song flew over the dying planet. This song had neither beginning nor end, and its sources lay neither here nor in the former world but somewhere very, very far away, so far that ordinary words could not describe it; perhaps even not in this reality. The creators, the ancestors of the song had either sunk eons ago into a wordless, voiceless darkness of timelessness or lived still, impervious to ordinary sight and other mundane feelings.



However it may be, the music resounded, and the song flew. And there lay something akin to an altar resembling an egg of flesh and blood, enveloped by a ghostly violet glow. Gradually, this glow transformed into shine. The "egg" pulsed, beat like a heart. The notes drawn forth by the beings rose to unattainable heights and fell to bottomless depths. The "egg" vibrated, trembled as if in a seizure, swayed and spun… and vanished. Vanished from this world. From this reality.



A delighted, joyful, expectant howl rang out, having nothing to do with musicality, albeit unheard by anyone prior. No one but them. Silence attacked, pounced on the dying world like a killer, and enveloped everything around. The planet froze in anticipation.



---



Vsevolod patrolled the forest on watch. A familiar ritual for him, daily and unobtrusive. The ranger's rifle hung on his back—just in case: after all, venturing into the woods without a weapon is extremely dangerous, although Vsevolod had never found himself in a situation where it could be needed.



The ranger's life was boring and monotonous, but Vsevolod had grown accustomed to the measured, silent existence; moreover, he leaned towards it. He derived pleasure from solitude and communicating with nature. In a world filled with cataclysms and disasters, it was so pleasant to be away from problems, knowing that nothing could happen to him—at least, nothing unusual or unnatural. Vsevolod knew and loved nature, and it responded reciprocally.



Early autumn was upon them. The sun was lazily descending toward the edge of the world. It was getting colder. Vsevolod was finishing his patrol; he had already turned toward his cabin, mentally noting that another day had passed, and nothing had happened in the forest or nearby—which was thanks to him, the ranger… when suddenly something unusual caught his eye. It attracted the attention of the man like a living person in a dead city does or, for example, a sentient being somewhere on Mars. Completely out of place, IT lay just off the path where Vsevolod was walking, glowing.



The ranger did not know what it was, but one glance was enough to understand: whatever it was, it shouldn’t be here. Moreover, he had never seen anything like it in his life.



When he cautiously approached, a bit frightened and not understanding why, he confirmed his guess. Something foreign, unearthly glowed amid the autumn grass—with some otherworldly purple light. Vsevolod bent down to see the find better. It turned out that the unknown object not only glowed, but also pulsed as if it were breathing.



Vsevolod stopped, scratched his head, and pondered: what could it be? He had never encountered anything remotely resembling this. Something like... an egg, but seemingly made of flesh. There was no talk of a shell, so he dismissed the version that this was indeed somebody's egg. It was unlikely that there was a yolk beneath the flesh, he thought; Earth was full of wonders, but not so absurd and nonsensical.



“Perhaps a new type of mushroom?” the ranger suggested. “Or a piece of some animal's body? But why does it pulse? And glow?... Or maybe it's a mutant animal?”



Lost in doubts and contemplation, Vsevolod did not notice how the sun disappeared below the horizon and darkness descended, accompanied by cold. Finally, when he snapped out of contemplating the mysterious object, he noticed it. The dense violet light surrounding the object lying on the ground was insufficient to make out what it represented, so the ranger reached into his pocket for a flashlight. He retrieved it, switched it on, and illuminated the egg-shaped find. Under the yellow electric beam, the "egg" appeared to pulse faster and glow brighter, and the purple color seemed to intensify. But perhaps it was just an illusion.



Vsevolod looked around for a stick and found a suitable one a couple of meters away. Taking it in hand, he poked the glowing "egg" with the free end. It felt as if a tremor passed through the stick, and the glow… intensified even more?



The ranger shook his head. It can't be! What silly fantasies!



Well, okay, fantasies—but still, what was he seeing before him?



Vsevolod tossed the stick aside and stepped closer to the pulsating "egg." He wanted to touch it with his hand but hesitated: what if it’s poisonous? What if it's soaked in toxins? Or bites him? Stings him?



Vsevolod forced a chuckle, convincing himself that nothing of the sort could possibly exist in nature, at least not in his forest, so there was no danger.



Finally, overcoming his indecision, he bent down and touched the "egg" with his fingers. To the touch, it was... smooth. Smooth and pleasant. And somehow familiar, perhaps. As if he had once, maybe a very very long time ago, touched something similar. He couldn’t help but compare it to a hairless, newborn puppy. Yes, that's what the surface of the "egg" felt like: the skin of an animal, not yet covered in fur.



Vsevolod slipped his palm under the mysterious find and, lifting it from the ground, carefully held it under his arm. The vibration emanating from the "egg" immediately spread through the ranger's body... but here's the amazing thing: it did not cause discomfort or evoke uneasy, let alone terrifying thoughts. Instead, it warmed his soul, as if he—Vsevolod—was doing something good and useful.



Shining the flashlight ahead, Vsevolod headed home. The light emanating from the astonishing "egg," which he held under his arm, painted the surroundings in either fantastical or mystical purple tones. Yet he feared to switch off the flashlight: whatever his unexpected and perhaps fortunate find was, he needed to be cautious. Besides, it was more familiar to navigate through the forest with such a known, mundane flashlight in hand. The Moon shone down—just as yellow as the electric beam piercing through the approaching woodland darkness. The only satellite of the planet where Vsevolod had been living and working for over fifty years seemed to observe what was happening with interest, grinning knowingly with all its craters and seas.



Upon arriving home, the first thing Vsevolod did was flip the switch and place the mysterious "egg" on the kitchen table directly under the light of the hanging lamp. For a moment, it seemed to him that the find had grown in size, but he attributed it to optical illusion and shock.



He took out his smartphone and photographed the "egg" from all sides to capture this incredible object, whatever might happen to it later. After putting away his phone, Vsevolod sat down on a chair and began to examine the "egg" from all angles. He twisted it, felt it, lifted it, lowered it, continuing to analyze.



Where did it come from? What is it? What should he do with it now?..



Having arrived at no conclusions, Vsevolod went to bed, forgetting to turn off the kitchen light where the "egg" lay.



In the morning, when he woke up and came to check on the extraordinary find and perhaps unravel its mystery, Vsevolod was in for a surprise.



No, the "egg" still lay on the table, but its size had increased several times. It barely fit on the tabletop now. Shocked, Vsevolod didn’t immediately notice that he forgot to turn off the light the night before. He flipped the switch, not taking his eyes off the gigantic "egg"—and suddenly noticed an inexplicable phenomenon. In electric light, it was not that noticeable. Moreover, Vsevolod hadn’t paid attention to it when he brought the "egg" home because it was still small. Now, however, he clearly saw that the sunlight streaming into the room was stretching towards the "egg," drawn to it like metal shavings to a magnet.



Not believing his eyes, Vsevolod, to test this incredible theory, again flicked the switch and peered closely. Indeed! The stream of light cascading from the ceiling thickened, accelerated, and tilted, falling sideways onto the giant "egg" lying on the table. And it kept absorbing—with its violet glow—the electrical and solar rays as if—it might be true—drawing life from them. And it pulsed harder; and—grew!..



Vsevolod's mouth dropped open in astonishment.



His first impulse was to call someone, show off the remarkable find, tell them, ask about it: perhaps someone knows something, has encountered something similar, could help him... Although it was unlikely, very unlikely. And there arose fears that this "egg," this inexplicable, unimaginable entity, could be taken away—of course, for their own benefit, to enrich themselves. And what would be left for him?..



Or to read about the find online? Now, that was a more reasonable thought. Fine, he would figure that out later.



First, Vsevolod raced for his smartphone and snapped several more hasty, blurry photographs of the item lying on the table, but that hardly occupied the ranger's mind now; his thoughts were elsewhere: what would happen to the "egg" next, and what should he do with it?



“Sell it,” a commercial instinct inherent to almost everyone spoke within Vsevolod. "Of course, sell it! To some zoo. Or a private collector. They'll snatch such a wonder out of my hands!"



While he was preoccupied with thoughts of enrichment, a terrible crash erupted. Vsevolod looked towards where the "egg" had lain just a moment ago and saw that it had doubled in size again—and under its weight, the kitchen table collapsed! And the "egg" continued to expand in width and height right before his eyes!..



Thus, previous plans were buried beneath the crushing necessity, and Vsevolod dialed the emergency services number.



They answered almost immediately. Stumbling and flustered, the ranger introduced himself and described the situation as best as he could. Judging by the tone of the responder, he wasn’t believed. But Vsevolod continued to insist, nearly shouting. He assured the emergency operator that he was sober and ready to provide his own photographs or show the found object via video call. Skepticism still laced the operator's voice.



Then there came a sound from the direction of the "egg." It was highly likely that the person on the other end of the line heard it too. However, what agitated and prompted him to rethink was not this but the desperate scream of the caller. The one who identified himself as a ranger and possessed an unprecedented find cried out in a voice that was not his own, and judging by the subsequent sounds, he dropped the phone. The emergency operator attempted to reach Vsevolod, but to no avail. And then something truly horrific began—some auditory madness and terror…



It was the scream and suspicious noises, rather than the strange and frightening story from the ranger, that prompted the operator to report the incident up the chain. Rescue workers, police, and medical personnel rushed to the scene, suspecting a crime, possibly murder or attempted murder.



Several hours later, detectives burst into the solitary house steeped in silence and anonymity. At first, they found nothing: the hallway was empty. But then the arrived personnel began searching the rooms, and in one of them—in the kitchen, where the wooden remnants of a broken table lay scattered on the floor only caught their attention—they discovered something that made everyone's hair stand on end.



An unseen creature, two meters tall—or perhaps even taller—stared at them with several glowing eyes, even in daylight. It extended limbs toward them, which due to lack of a better term the detectives referred to as arms. All grotesque, disproportionate, and naked, save for short, coarse gray fur, it instilled terror just by its appearance. And when the creature—this abomination, this monster—let out a growl, some officers thought they might lose consciousness from fear.



But the most experienced officer, Major Petrov, a war veteran and esteemed investigator, remained composed and shot at the monstrous thing. The creature was knocked aside, crashing against the wall and sliding down it.



For several seconds, no one moved, including the bizarre creature; it seemed to have lost consciousness. Hoping for this, Major Petrov, gesturing his colleagues to keep close, slowly approached it. The creature breathed steadily and was alive, judging by its heaving deformed chest, but it seemed to pose no threat. A puddle of fluorescing purple liquid—likely the creature’s blood—had spread beside it. Using several pairs of handcuffs borrowed from the arriving agents, Petrov restrained the abomination and, satisfied with his work, stepped aside to observe the results of his efforts.



He didn’t know what kind of beast he had clashed with; in fact, he was generally unimaginative, which greatly aided him in his work where stalking and capturing were required instead of indulging in fantasies. Many considered Petrov a born investigator, but even he, a man without imagination who had seen many atrocities in his years of service, was unprepared for what the future had in store for him.



It wasn’t the absurd and horrifying creature itself that impressed the major, nor even the photographs on the smartphone found nearby with a shattered screen—but the blood around the mouth of this creature. And the bloody trails on the floor near the spot where it stood when the detectives burst in.



“The ranger isn’t anywhere to be found,” one of the young officers said.



Petrov couldn’t help but spit.



“It seems we now know where he is.”



And he pointed to the bloodstains on the floorboards.



Petrov did not consider the possibility that Vsevolod might not have been devoured. That the entity found in the abandoned cabin was indeed the ranger himself. However, significant positions are not always held by unimaginative people, and some held relevant suspicions.



However, numerous analyses and experiments conducted on the unknown creature revealed no resemblance between the bizarre beast and the missing person. Meanwhile, the blood on the floor of the ranger's house clearly belonged to its owner.



An immediate order was issued to remain silent about what had occurred; this especially applied to informing the media and third parties. Ranger Vsevolod Bobrov was to be considered missing; a false rescue operation was even arranged to divert attention, which, naturally, led to nothing.



Meanwhile, the captured gray creature was secretly held underground, at a special secret military base. It was watched vigilantly, both personally and through cameras. It refused any food, and when offered blood and meat, it didn’t even look its way.



Instead, the creature preferred to squat and trace on the dusty camera floor with one gnarled "finger." This continued for several days until one of the observers realized that it was trying to communicate with them; perhaps depicting something.



The military continued their surveillance, even more meticulously than before, yet the creature remained motionless, sketching on the slabs.



Eventually, the military command held a discussion and came to an unconventional decision. One day, between “visits” from doctors and scientists eagerly studying the unseen being, the monster was given a piece of charcoal. Nearby, with a tranquilizer gun at the ready (which was used whenever the need arose to move the detained), stood a soldier prepared to shoot at the first sign of danger.



But the carnivorous creature showed absolutely no signs of aggression. It awkwardly picked up the piece of charcoal with its flexible joints-fingers and began to draw on the slabs.



Those among the observers who suspected the presence of an advanced brain and communication abilities in the creature rejoiced: a strange, nonsensical, and nightmarish contact was brewing, considering what had transpired, but a genuine interspecies connection.



The creature sketched on the floor for some time before tossing the charcoal aside; it seemed the work was done. Baring what could be teeth or fangs, or something incomprehensible, it stared straight at the ceiling camera as if waiting… or calling for something.



When the image on the monitor, where the captive was visibly clear, was magnified, everyone present erupted in cries of astonishment and joy because what the terrifying two-meter "being" had drawn on the floor turned out to be nothing less than a flute with several holes on top.



The notion started knocking on the door of the observers’ perception, but they still hesitated, still did not want to acknowledge it. Only when the creature in the chamber raised its fearsome hands and twirled them near its mouth, evidently imitating something, was it finally understood: it wanted to make music! It had drawn a musical instrument it needed for some purpose, and judging by the charcoal depiction on the floor and the motions of the monster, it resembled an ordinary flute.



Acquiring a flute in the modern world is pretty simple. Under the watchful gazes of dozens of people, one of the soldiers tossed the requested item into the cage, after which the researchers watched with even greater excitement at what was unfolding. Video cameras were rolling, capturing everything onto digital tape. Something was about to happen next…



For a brief moment, lasting only half a minute, the creature remained still—only gazing at the flute lying before it; looking as if it could not believe what had happened—even though can one really say anything definitive considering the deep, emotion-laden, red eyes with which the monster regarded the musical instrument? Then it finally reached out and took the flute in its “hand.” Initially clumsy, its movements grew nimbler, more precise, more masterful with every second. Much to the surprise of the observers, this comparison sprung to their minds—it resembled a true musician.



The creature placed the flute to its mouth, took a deep breath... and played. What those watching heard could not be classified as music in the original sense of the word, at least in terms of earthly understanding of music. The creature played on one colossal exhalation. The sounds it produced from the ordinary flute could not have been born from it—some mixture of wheezing, sobs, growls, grumbles, buzzing, and who knows what else. But all together they formed a dense amusic fullness. Such would be the chorals of a far-off, distant planet, a planet so alien to human reason that its possessor could neither imagine it nor describe it. Chorals performed by one single being. Or is it a being? Does this purely human word accurately reflect the essence of the absurd two-meter figure with its wide maw and countless bloody eyes?



The “music” emanating from the flute—or perhaps only through it—sank into, embedded into, screwed into the people’s minds—and overwhelmed them. It hypnotized them. Behind that invincible influence lay something else, someone else's foreign will… Truthfully, those hearing could do nothing.



And then, in an instant, the melody ceased; cut off like a waterfall plunging into an abyss, like a lie coming to war, like life succumbing to death. The space filled with unimaginable—not pleasant and not disgusting—sounds became the domain of an inexhaustible silence.



And emptiness. Because all who listened to the “musician” and the melodies borne from it, native to the places from whence it came, suddenly disappeared. They dissolved, dematerialized, vanished. The “maestro” evaporated too. That part of the secret, guarded by the finest soldiers and protective measures of the military base, where the supernatural concert took place, became deserted, emptied, and forever enshrined in an atmosphere of doom and perdition.



Meanwhile, the creature with the flute and dozens of people appeared in an entirely different place, situated outside the conventional confines of space and time for humans—on a dying planet, where the horizon was embraced by violet glow.



The newcomers were immediately surrounded by a crowd of gray, two-meter-tall, red-eyed monstrosities. And it became clear: the race of flutists would not perish and would continue the struggle for existence, for the food brought home by their envoy would last for a long time…