Waldemar and the Mirror Path

More about Waldemar and the Mirror Path

After Waldemar left the suitcase with the golden vines behind him, the narrow jungle path led him deeper into the heart of the forest. The air was damp and heavy; every breath tasted of moss, blossoms, and rain. He heard the roar of distant waterfalls, the screech of colorful birds, and the mysterious whispering of the leaves above his head. But something had changed. Ever since he had looked into the suitcase and seen his own reflection, he perceived the world differently. The rustling in the undergrowth no longer sounded like mere coincidence, but like voices whispering to him. The sunbeams dancing among the leaves drew patterns on the ground—patterns that almost looked like signs. Waldemar stopped. Before him lay a strange spot in the forest: the ground was smooth, almost polished, and in the center rose an arch of crystal-clear water, stretching upwards like glass. It shimmered in the light, and behind it, Waldemar recognized... himself. He stepped closer. The reflection moved in sync with him, but it wasn't identical. This Waldemar image carried no backpack, no hat—only himself. A Waldemar without all the burdens he carried. "The Mirror Path," he murmured, the words seeming to be whispered to him. Cautiously, he raised a paw and touched the smooth surface. It felt cool, vibrating slightly, as if it were breathing. Then the surface opened like water, and Waldemar stumbled through it. Suddenly, he found himself on a path made entirely of mirrors. On either side rose tall surfaces that showed him—at different moments on his journey. There he saw himself meeting the Very Hungry Caterpillar, meeting Mollie at the bus stop, laughing with Max the teddy bear. Every stop on his journey was reflected, vividly, as if it were still present. Waldemar continued cautiously. The mirrors didn't just show the past—some showed the future. He saw a figure he didn't yet recognize: an old frog with a crown, waving to him. He saw a house built of books, where candles flickered like stars. And he saw himself, older, but wearing the same red hat, surrounded by friends. The further he went, the clearer it became to him that this path wasn't about reaching a destination, but about testing himself. The Monkey King had said the key lay in his heart—and here, between the mirrors, Waldemar learned that his heart consisted of all the encounters he had collected. At the end of the path stood another suitcase. But this one was different from all the ones before: It was transparent, made of pure glass, and inside it shimmered a small flame, burning warm and calm. Waldemar knelt down and placed his paw on the glass. No lock, no tendrils, just himself and the fire. Carefully, he opened the suitcase. The flame rose, hovered over his forehead, and settled in his chest as if it had always belonged there.