Yaroslav Solntsev
ZZZMMM Illustrations

"Ask, and it will be given to you;

seek, and you will find;

knock, and the door will be opened to you."

(Matthew 7:7)

Dear readers,

Here’s a small set of illustrated scenes from the original book – kind of invitation to peer through a window into the adventures awaiting you in the ZZZMMM trilogy. If a particular illustration stirs your imagination, pause for a moment. Close your eyes. Picture what lies beyond its edges. Before you know it, the story will begin unfolding within you. For every image here is more than a reflection of the book’s events – it’s a key to unlock your own creativity.

This album was crafted with a double portion of love: to help you see the characters as the author envisioned them, and to feel the emotions hidden between the lines. No need to scrutinize descriptions – just play the audiobook, put on headphones, and let yourself drift into a world where art comes alive through the narrator’s voice.

In the future, we plan to make these pages even more vibrant – with music, the whisper of wind, the clash of battles, and other layers of storytelling. But if you can’t wait… let’s create it together! Start by recording your own voiceover, curating an illustration album, or reimagining the tale in any form. Let the story take on new colors – your colors.

Happy travels to a world where inspiration knows no bounds!

Yours,

Yaroslav Solntsev.

Prologue.

Planet Earth. Russia. The Black Sea Coast. Thirty Years Before the Transition.

Anna lay with her eyes closed, letting the warm sunlight caress her skin like the brushstrokes of an invisible artist painting summer not on canvas, but directly onto her body. A gentle breeze wrapped around her slender frame, carrying the salty perfume of the sea and a sense of boundless freedom. Occasionally, the piercing cries of seagulls mingled with children’s delighted squeals as they raced across the wet sand. The rhythmic crash of waves – like the ocean’s own breathing – lulled her, a mother’s lullaby.

This blissful drift toward sleep was shattered by an excited shout:

"Look, a dolphin! Over there – another one!"

The cry disrupted the lazy rhythm of the beach, sparking sudden chaos. Some bathers, gripped by vague alarm, scrambled toward shore as if fleeing some unseen threat. Others, lost in carefree joy, kept swimming and splashing, oblivious. Those on land jumped up, rushing to the water’s edge to marvel at the creatures whose fins sliced through the waves like blades, their bodies weaving effortlessly with the tide.

The dolphins paid no mind to their audience. They were busy hunting. Around them, schools of tiny fish darted like sparks in sunlight – plunging deep, leaping clear of the water, startling swimmers. For these fish, the world had become a frantic dance of survival, every moment potentially their last.

Then, as if wiped away by a hand, Anna’s drowsiness vanished. She, who had always dreamed of seeing dolphins, realized she’d missed the most thrilling moment.

"What now?" flashed through her mind.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, its pulse throbbing in her left temple as her legs carried her after the retreating pod. She barely noticed scrambling over a rocky outcrop until she found herself on a ledge overlooking a picturesque lagoon. The dolphins had used it masterfully – herding fish into this natural trap before feasting. Their ingenuity was breathtaking. Then, as suddenly as they’d appeared, they were gone.

Anna inhaled deeply, as if trying to hold the fading magic inside, and turned slowly toward her belongings. That’s when she saw him: a young man sitting in a crevice on the same ledge, still gazing at the now-empty stage where nature’s drama had unfolded.

The intrusion of a stranger during such a private moment struck her like a slap. The indignant words "Aren’t you ashamed to spy?!" nearly escaped her lips – until she understood. He’d been there all along. She’d missed him entirely, her eyes fixed seaward, chasing dolphins.

The lagoon was encircled by steep, inaccessible cliffs, which explained both the absence of other people and the strange stillness of the air.

"How did you get here?" Anna asked the young man, who had risen to his feet. She felt a flutter of embarrassment – he was taller than she’d expected.

"Same way you did," he said, almost apologetically, gesturing toward a narrow crevice in the rock. "It’s hidden – you can’t see it from the beach, or even up close. I’ve been coming here for a week, escaping the crowds. Seems no one else knows about it. And the dolphins…" He spoke quickly, as if afraid he’d be interrupted. "They arrive like clockwork, same time every day. Like they’ve got some built-in chronometer."

They stared at each other, the silence teetering on awkward – then suddenly, they laughed.

"Misha," the young man said, offering his hand. His gaze lingered on Anna with open admiration – she was always radiant when she laughed, her voice like a bright melody.

"Anya," she replied, smiling. Just then, the sun slipped from behind a cloud, as if nature itself were grinning, saturating the world with color.

As Anna glanced around, she noticed something new: rough-hewn steps carved into the stone, descending invitingly toward the water’s edge – a silent summons to plunge into the lagoon’s crystalline depths…

The week slipped by like a fleeting breeze, carrying away the days and leaving only sweet memories in its wake. Each morning, they returned to their hidden lagoon, where clouds drifted overhead like great white ships, where seagulls and cormorants made unexpected appearances, and where dolphins staged unforgettable performances. Evenings were spent watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon, painting the sky in the vibrant hues of sunset – scarlet, orange, pink – as if some unseen hand had brushed a masterpiece across the heavens just for them.

With every passing day, they discovered more about one another, finding unexpected connections in even the smallest things.

"What’s your favorite color?" Anna asked suddenly.

"I love all colors," Mikhail answered without hesitation.

"And scents? Which scents do you like?"

"So many things – from the rich smell of tomatoes on the vine to the delicate fragrance of a rose bush," he replied instantly.

"I love the scent of fresh lemon leaves," Anna said, pulling one from her purse. "I always keep one with me. But to make it perfect, you have to add a hint of floral jasmine and creamy honey – then it becomes something close to the top notes of Chanel No. 5." She handed him the leaf.

"Now this scent will always remind me of you," Mikhail said softly, tucking the lemon leaf into his shirt pocket with a shy smile.

But above all else, they shared a fascination with the starry sky. Together, they would pore over a celestial atlas, deciphering the mysterious patterns of constellations. Anna often wondered where Mikhail had managed to find such a rare treasure. The flashlight, powered by a large flat battery that lasted for several evenings, proved indispensable. They would sit for hours, alternating between studying the atlas pages and gazing up at the shimmering celestial bodies, savoring every moment of their enigmatic journey through the vast expanse of the universe. To them, it all held a special, profound meaning.

The final evening marked a turning point, dividing their lives into "before" and "after." That day, the sea was eerily calm – a silent mirror, smooth as glass. Not a ripple, not a single splash disturbed its surface. Only crimson clouds and the golden orb of the sun, slowly sinking into the horizon, painted the sky. Its reflection on the water created the illusion of two suns gliding majestically toward each other, like two dancers in a final, breathtaking act.

As twilight faded into night, the sky unfurled a velvet canopy studded with countless stars. The air remained warm, yet there was an unmistakable tension – a premonition of an approaching storm. Sitting shoulder to shoulder in the stillness, they could hear each other's heartbeats. Their gazes, once again, were drawn to a peculiar star in the constellation Cassiopeia. For three nights in a row, it had captivated them with its unnatural flickering. A brilliant blue star, like a precious gem, cast an eerie glow around it, pulsing as if alive. Each flare of light seemed to carry a hidden message – a fragment of an invisible code, a transmission from a distant world buried deep in the cosmos.

Drunk on the romance of the moment, with all the fiery impulsiveness of youth, they swore a passionate vow to stay together – "until that distant star burns out."

The star itself seemed to hold its breath, like a dancer pausing before her final bow. Slowly, it began to unfurl its radiant petals, blossoming into a colossal celestial flower. Then, at the peak of its brilliance – it detonated.

A blinding flash. A million glittering shards. The cosmos rained fire.

Mikhail and Anna stood frozen, shock rooting them to the spot. A pain – sharp, alien – lanced through their very cores, as if something had pierced their hearts, each beat now a deafening gong echoing through their skulls.

Tears came unbidden, a flood breaching its dam. At first, there was only the crushing weight of irrevocable loss. But then – a flicker. Something strange and delicate pushed through the darkness: the whisper of something new. Unfamiliar, yet brimming with promise. Like the first snowdrop defiantly blooming in a winter thaw, its fragile petals a silent oath of spring.

The walk home felt like a dream. Thoughts dissolved into exhaustion. Only one urge remained: to collapse onto soft pillows, shut their eyes, and surrender to oblivion – to escape the incomprehensible visions that had shattered their world.

Chapter 1. Swan Lake.

Lipetsk and Rostov Regions.

The moment she saw the majestic swans, Vika couldn't resist – she dashed toward them without hesitation, chasing even when they suddenly soared into the clouds.

She was, quite literally, on cloud nine. Pure exhilaration overwhelmed her as she darted through the air, accelerating to impossible speeds one moment and coming to an abrupt stop the next, just to catch her breath. Effortlessly, she could shoot upward or plunge downward flying felt limitless. If she wanted to take in the entire landscape, she'd rise higher; if something caught her eye, she'd swoop down in an instant to examine the tiniest details. Movement required no effort at all. A euphoric blend of awe, happiness, and pure joy surged through her.

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