PIMKI: BOOK ONE — THE SECRET OF THE FADING SPARKS

PROLOGUE: A BIRTHDAY PRESENT — ATTENTION!

Do you know where birthday presents really come from?

They aren’t bought in a shop. No. The most important miracle flies in from far away.

In the merriest corner of the Universe, where stars blink like garlands, there is a small, bright planet called Pim-Star. And on it live the Pimks — fluffy, kind creatures with sparkling tufts. Their Great Mission is to give presents to children on their birthdays.

Every toy you have ever found on the morning of your celebration was once invented here. But for a toy to become Magical, a special magic is needed — a Spark of Happiness. A Pimk blows on their paws, remembers their funniest pranks and warmest friendships, and from their fluffy tail fly golden-pink sparks. That Spark is the soul of the present. Without it — it is just a thing. With it — it is a best friend, a protector from boredom, and a guide into the world of wonders.

Special Pimk-Couriers, the Bravest of all, open star portals and deliver these precious parcels while everyone sleeps.

That is how it has always been. Year after year, century after century.

But one day, the first crack appeared.

From the most protected Wonder Vault, one present disappeared. Then another. Then a whole batch. No break-in, no sign. And with them, the Spark of Happiness inside faded too.

A quiet panic crept across Pim-Star. If the presents kept disappearing, children would be left without the most important holiday miracle.

But four friends — Pimks named Tick and his companions — felt more than just the loss. They sensed a bitter, alien taste in the air. The taste of sorrow. A sorrow so lonely and so hungry that it had decided to steal someone else’s happiness just to warm itself.

This was no simple theft. This was an alarm signal.

And if they didn’t figure out who was stealing birthdays, and why, then one morning children across the Galaxy might wake up... and find no present at all.

That could not be allowed.

Even if it meant setting off on the most terrifying journey themselves — to the Edge of the World, to the place from which this universal sadness comes.

Because miracles don’t happen by themselves. Behind every surprise hidden under the bed stands someone’s courage, someone’s work, and a huge, sparkling heart.

CHAPTER 1: THE MYSTERY OF THE SHELF WHERE WONDERS VANISH

Part 1: The Pimk Who Forgot How to Jump

The Floating Cloud Bridge was Tick’s favourite place on all of Pim-Star. It wasn’t just a path, but a whole springy ribbon of pink mist that wound between giant Lollipop Trees, whose branches smelled of caramel and orange. The rules of the bridge were simple and beautiful: you couldn’t walk on it — you had to jump. The moment you pushed off with your paws, the bridge bounced merrily, tossing you upward, and you could fly from branch to branch like a fluff carried by the wind of joy.

But that day, Tick wasn’t jumping.

He sat at the very edge of the bridge, his hind legs tucked under him, his front paws fiddling with smooth, round pebble-peas. On each of his paws were three chubby fingers that could nimbly grab donuts, build towers from cloud-cotton, and, as now, nervously fidget with something while thoughts swirled in his head like alarmed bees.

His gaze was fixed on the distance, on the dome of the Wonder Vault, shining like a bubble of rainbow. There, the finished presents filled with Sparks of Happiness were supposed to be kept. But it was from there that they were disappearing.

And Tick’s tuft was not right today. Usually it stood up in a mischievous whirl, shimmering with all colours. Now it was flattened and — most alarming of all — was letting out tiny, greyish bead-sparks. They flew out with a quiet, sad “pss-pss” and immediately died in the sweet air that smelled of candy.

“Where do they go?” thought Tick, and from that thought his chest grew cold. “They can’t just dissolve! Maybe someone took them to play? But then they’d return them... Or maybe they left on their own because they got sad?”

From that thought his tuft quivered and released a whole fountain of bluish sparks — the colour of light panic. No, that was impossible. The toys were charged with the purest Spark, they were supposed to radiate happiness here, in the Vault. Tick knew this for certain. He himself had once been one of the best Bravest — those who delivered such presents to children on other planets.

Part 2: The Secret File from the Mission to Planet Earth

Tick frowned, and his big eyes, shining like two wet river pebbles, grew serious. He remembered his last charge — a boy named Leo from the far blue planet Earth. Tick had chosen his present so carefully: not just a toy car, but a whole junior space explorer’s kit with a magnifying glass, because he’d peeked and seen how Leo drew stars and spaceships. Tick had put all his love for discoveries into the box, blew on his paws, and from his tail flew the brightest golden sparks. He was sure he had brought magic.

But then... then one day he looked into the Observation Mirror (a small, almost forbidden device that allowed you to peek for a second into the world of a child who had received a present). He saw Leo. The boy was examining the magnifying glass with interest, turning it over in his hands, but on his face there was not that very same, dazzling, ear-to-ear, sparkling smile for which everything had been started. There was only a light curiosity. As if the main magic battery in the present... was missing.

“But I did everything right!” Tick protested mentally, and his tuft twitched. “The Sparks were the most genuine there could be!”

And now whole batches were disappearing. Not just like that. Tick was sure of it. His inner fidget — the one that always pushed him to check “what if?” — whispered: this is not a coincidence. This is a sign. To ignore it was impossible.

Part 3: The Great Donut Heist

From his thoughts, Tick’s stomach growled so loudly that the echo came back from the nearest Lollipop trunk. That was a sure sign — time to refuel. Luckily, Tick had a plan for such an occasion. Or rather, a stash.

Yesterday, sensing a restless night, he had hidden in the hollow of an old Chewing Gum Tree (it smelled of mint gum) a spare box of donuts. With berry filling. The very best.

The thought of a sweet life preserver dispelled the sadness a little. “First I need to check the stash,” he decided, “and only then think about the disappearances. On an empty stomach, no mysteries can be solved!”

He put the pebbles aside, nimbly pushed off from the bridge, and, doing a perfect somersault in the air (Tick was the best at this on all of Pim-Star — he could spin like a top), landed silently on the soft, fluffy carpet of cloud-cotton under the tree. His heart beat with anticipation. He stuck his paw into the familiar hollow, felt the smooth wooden wall... and nothing more.

Emptiness.

— Oh-oh-oh, no! — escaped Tick in a quiet whisper. His ears with tufts drooped. — Don’t tell me they... disappeared too? The mysterious thief got to my donuts?!

But then in his head, like a little lightning bolt, a guess clicked. He sharply pulled out his paw and sniffed. Yes, the hollow smelled not only of mint, but also of a barely noticeable smell of... mischief. And then he remembered! Yesterday, when he was hiding the treasure, out of the corner of his eye he had noticed a familiar movement. From behind the neighbouring trunk, a fluffy orange tail with a white tip, like a paintbrush, had flashed for a second.

Part 4: Suspects — Three Tailed Tricksters!

— Tsvir! — grumbled Tick, and his tuft, instantly changing colour, released a sheaf of orange sparks — the colour of indignation and understanding. — Of course!

Tsvir, Bulk, and Mig. Three little hurricanes in the shape of Pimks. They were Tick’s nieces and nephew and were his most devoted fans (which showed in how they copied his somersaults, albeit clumsily) and his most frequent headache. They had even come up with a loud name for themselves — the Tricksters.

Their dream was great: to grow up quickly and become Brave Couriers like Uncle Tick. But for now, the only training available to them was endless pranks, peeking, and organising tests of “agility and wit.” That is, stealing donuts, setting water traps from fountains, and trying to “deliver a parcel” (usually a pinecone) by the most roundabout path through the whole garden.

Tsvir, the owner of that very orange tail, was a genius of searching. He could find anything and anywhere by the faintest glint or forgotten smell. Bulk, the chubbiest of the trio, adored bragging and competing. And quiet Mig with her huge, attentive eyes... she said nothing, but saw and remembered everything. She was a living archive of all their pranks.

“Fine,” Tick sighed mentally, and his tuft softened, releasing a couple of warm yellow sparks. “Donuts are not a catastrophe. The Tricksters may be pranksters, but their hearts are in the right place. They would never touch a real Spark. That’s not their style.”

But it was precisely this thought that brought all the anxiety back, magnified a hundredfold. If the donuts were stolen by familiar rascals, then the disappearance of the toys was the work of someone else’s unfamiliar and possibly very unkind “paws.”

He felt cold even in the warm air of Pim-Star.

Part 5: The Birth of a Super-Idea: Find the Birthday Thief!

Tick shook himself, making his tuft sparkle again — now with a decisive steel gleam. Sitting and grieving was not his style. He was a hereditary fidget. If something was wrong, you had to dig, check, shout out to the truth, even if for this you had to deviate slightly from the rules (for example, from the ban on disturbing the Observation Mirror once again).

“The donuts can wait. Business first,” he said firmly to himself, squaring his shoulders. “I need to find Zoom. If anyone can find even one clue, a trace, a hint in this sweet air, it’s her.”

Zoom was his best friend — smart, attentive, and as tireless as he was. Together they were an excellent team.

Tick gathered his courage to go in search of her. He took one last look at the Wonder Vault, and it seemed to him that far, far away, at the very edge of the rainbow dome, a shadow had trembled for a moment. Not from a cloud, but some other, denser and colder one. But maybe it only seemed so?

Tick didn’t yet know that he was right twice over. Right about the seriousness of the disappearances. And right that it only seemed so.

In the farthest and most forgotten corners of space, where even the stars shine reluctantly, Something woke up. Ancient as emptiness itself, and infinitely, unbearably lonely. It had no paws, no eyes, but it had long, semi-transparent tentacles, woven from silence and sorrow. It was hungry. And its hunger was not satisfied by donuts or games. Its hunger could only be satisfied by someone else’s bright, living joy. The very joy that sparkled in the tufts of the Pimks and was kept under the dome of the Vault.

It had already sensed the smell of happiness coming from Pim-Star. And it began a slow, inexorable movement.

And the first on its path stood a Pimk with a restless tuft and a decisive gleam in his big eyes, who did not even suspect that his little investigation was about to become the beginning of the greatest adventure in the life of all Pimks.