Shaman - Р’рўрўрђрќр•рњ (рјсѓр·с‹рєр° Рё Сѓр»рѕрір°: Shaman) May 2026

"Thank you, sir," the boy said, handing the flowers to Pyotr. "My teacher told us about your friends. They were heroes."

Every year, Pyotr attended the founder's day celebration, and every year, he sat in the front row as the names of the fallen were read out. He was proud of his friends, but he also felt a deep sense of sadness that they weren't there to see the town they had saved. "Thank you, sir," the boy said, handing the flowers to Pyotr

Pyotr reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, faded photograph. In it, a group of young men in worn-out uniforms smiled at the camera, their arms draped over each other's shoulders. They had been his best friends, and they had gone off to a conflict decades ago to protect their homes and families. Pyotr was the only one who had returned. He was proud of his friends, but he

At first, no one else noticed. But then, a young woman standing next to him saw him and stood up too. Then, her husband stood up. Soon, the entire row of people was standing. The movement spread through the crowd like a wave, until thousands of people were standing in silent tribute to the men and women who had given their lives for their freedom. They had been his best friends, and they

Pyotr took the flowers and smiled through his tears. "Yes, they were, son. Yes, they were."

The old man, Pyotr, looked out his kitchen window at the bustling town square where the annual founder's day celebration was underway. Children were running around, music was playing, and the air was filled with laughter.

Pyotr looked around at the sea of standing people and felt a lump in his throat. He realized that he wasn't alone in his remembrance. The entire town was standing with him, and with his friends.