As a spring storm lit up the sky over the valley, Lena stood at the window of her attic room. Built of red brick, the Gryffs' estate, which had belonged to her family for centuries, seemed to breathe the damp air of stormy nights itself. The gloomy gardens stretched all the way to the line of the old woods that had nearly claimed her cat the day before. Today, Lena felt that something was different. Her room, full of books, sketchbooks and muslin curtains, was suddenly populated by the light of a lightning bolt that cut the sky in half. At the same instant, the clock in the hall struck midnight. Lena turned, instinctively slipping her hand under her pillow where, as every night, lay a leather-bound notebook - an heirloom from her grandmother. Every night for the past few days, something had written in it spontaneously. Today, again, one word appeared: "Get out". At first, she thought it was her younger brother's doing, but when she showed the notebook to her friends Igor and Hania, they too saw the word, which a moment ago seemed to be non-existent. Intrigued, they arranged to meet that night, even though it was raining and thundering. Lena slipped out of the house, circled around to the north side, where rose bushes formed a hedge like a corridor, damp and smelling of wet earth. Already waiting there were Hania with an old torch and Igor with a rucksack in which he had what he described only as "the essentials of a boredom slayer". The friends slipped through the bushes, passing a fountain with an overgrown lion's mouth, until they reached an ornamental garden pavilion. This place always seemed strangely alive to Lena - especially at night. As soon as their feet touched the stone floor, the air thickened, as if they were bringing a storm with them. Hania's torch blinked, then went out. Suddenly the gardens rippled - silvery streaks of light ran through the roses, and a sound like a broken whisper rang out in the distance. Igor stood still, unable to take his eyes off the circle of vines surrounding the pavilion. It was then that Lena noticed that one of the roses was holding something in a cup that shone with a pale blue light. Instinctively, she reached out her hand - and felt a hard twig encircle her wrist. She was sure that the rose thorns had appeared, yet she felt no pain. On the contrary - she felt as if the garden had invited her inside a misty, unknown world. The door of the pavilion, hitherto padlocked, opened wide with a slam. A delicate jasmine fragrance came from inside, and a light flashed, the source of which they could not discern. Igor was stopped by an invisible resistance, Hania hesitated, but Lena took a step forward. As she crossed the threshold, the garden outside began to dissolve into mist. Inside the pavilion, amidst the soft shadows, the silhouette of a person Lena did not know - or should not know. The silhouette smiled, as if she had been waiting there all her life....