The city of Tomsk slumbers in its cradle of snowy taiga as winter draws to an end. The temperature hovers around –25°C, and one’s breath freezes the moment it leaves the mouth. Dreaming of escaping that frozen hell is often the best way to endure it. Late February always carries that faint promise.

  In the middle of the night, the radio becomes the best of companions. Perhaps the program isn’t the most popular—but it is certainly the most unusual.

  Her voice —soft yet deep, calm yet enigmatic— transforms this former professor of Slavic literature into a kind of shaman of the airwaves. Every broadcast of The Soul of the Forest begins with her ritual phrase:

  — “When the forest sleeps… the ancient voices awaken.”

  Then comes the program’s haunting introduction: a distant Siberian wind, followed by deep chimes, and finally an ethereal melody on a harp.

  — Tonight, my dear listeners, the taiga speaks to us once again—through the voice of one of its most distinguished daughters.

  The music returned, filling the air with the solemn hymn Heyr Himna Smieur, blending mystery with Slavic instrumentality and soul.

  In his small room at the military residence, he listened in silence. Ever since he had been declared unfit for command, his life had been reduced to routine and paperwork. He had never been the same again.

  — Tonight you join us to step a little outside academia and tell us about your latest book, The Soul of the Taiga, rooted in the shamanic traditions of the Siberian peoples.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  — This book I wrote in memory of my mother. To me, she was more than a mother—she was a guardian of the invisible.

  — I’d like to know more about these blue spirits.

  — Although there are no historical records, we’ve reconstructed a narrative inspired by their cosmology. The surviving remains speak of a deeply symbolic spiritual world.

  — What kind of remains?

  — Some bodies have been found tattooed with mythical animals. Horses were buried with masks to guide the soul, and pendants were used for magical purposes.

  — And how do these practices relate to the blue spirits?

  — In the unwritten legends of the Altai, there is mention of the Dukh-G?kh. It is said they descend during the winter twilight to watch over the bloodlines of tribal chieftains.

  — So they appear mainly during snowstorms?

  — Yes. That’s why the shaman used the Tyngyr-Kh?l, the circle for capturing the spirits of the wind. If the spirits wish to enter, they will. If not, they whistle and drift away.

  — And what about their saving spirit?

  — They are ambivalent entities connected to the passage between life and death. Ancient breaths of the sky. There are no documented cases of them acting as saviors… but it is possible.

  Once again, the music took over. The solemn voice returned to close the interview:

  — Between the taiga and the spirits, we bid farewell to our friend. May the Dukh-G?kh walk beside you through the night.

  He lay on his bed when a sudden chill brushed his body. It had felt real —as if those words had conjured it. He remembered the accident: the abyss, the blizzard, the fall—and then that moment suspended in midair, held by a blue spirit.

  As those memories passed through him, the producer knocked on the glass.

  — Someone’s on the line. He insists he’s had contact with the blue spirits.

  — All right. Put him through.

  Her voice returned to the air, serene yet charged with intrigue:

  — We’ve received countless messages but this call is something special.

  A man’s voice broke through the static:

  — “I was saved from death… by a blue spirit.”