The Apple Heart, entrance to the jungle

More about The Apple Heart, entrance to the jungle

The walkway was narrow, overgrown with moss and slippery from the damp night air. Above him, the canopy of leaves whispered, and somewhere in the distance, water dripped from an invisible spring. Only the panther's footsteps, barely audible, and its soft, deep breathing accompanied the wanderer who dared to follow this strange path. The heart of leaves that opened within the red apple shone like both a promise and a warning. No ordinary gate, he knew the moment he saw it. It was a threshold created by powers that were neither human nor benevolent. The apple, as large as a house, rested in the middle of the forest, and through its heart, a path opened into a landscape that didn't belong to this world. The panther raised its head. Its eyes glowed amber in the twilight, yet it seemed not like a predator, but rather a guardian. He waited, testing to see if the hiker would hesitate. A rustling sounded through the leaves, and with a supple movement, the black figure took a step forward. The muscles beneath its fur flexed like the strings of a bow. The panther seemed to be inviting—or challenging. The hiker remembered the words of the elders in the village. There had been talk of a gate, called the Heart of the World, which revealed itself only to those willing to leave a part of themselves behind. Many had sought it, but hardly any had returned. And those who had returned home had carried the glimmer of the foreign in their eyes, as if they were always gazing into a distance no one else could see. He took a deep breath and continued on. The planks creaked under his weight, as if the walkway itself were testing his worthiness. Beside him, the panther now strode in a steady rhythm. No sound of resistance, no hiss, only the presence of an ancient, silent accompaniment. As they reached the opening in the apple, he was greeted by a scent, sweet and heavy, not of fruit, but of blossoms that did not grow in this world. Beyond the heart portal began a path of light and mist. The trees there bore leaves of glass that rattled in the wind, and the ground was covered in sparkling dew that was not water. "This is the beginning," whispered a voice, as gentle as the rustling of leaves, yet as powerful as a clap of thunder. The wanderer did not know if it came from the heart of the apple, from the clouds, or from the panther himself. His courage burned, like a torch in a dark night. He knew that every step would take him further from everything he knew. But he also knew that this was not a path of return, but of transformation. The panther sat down beside him, its amber eyes resting calmly on its face. For a moment, he thought he saw reflections in it: images of endlessly stretching forests, waterfalls cascading in starlight, and doors opening into every shape of the world. He lifted his foot, placed it on the luminous path—and entered.