It was a chilly, foggy evening when Anka and Michael went to an abandoned railway station on the outskirts of the city. The old brick hall, overgrown with ivy and graffiti, had stood forgotten for years, but on this night something in the air smelled of mystery. - Ready? - Michael asked, clutching the torch in his sweaty hand. - 'Always,' replied Anka, although her voice betrayed a slight tremor. Together they walked through the broken door, careful not to step on the creaking shards of glass. The interior was dark and cold, and the echo of their footsteps echoed off the empty walls. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Michael noticed a strange glow coming from the former waiting room. They walked closer. In the middle of the room, on the old tiles, pulsed a bright, circular light, as if someone had spilled milk and irradiated it with moonlight. The air trembled and the silence was disturbed by a quiet hum. - This... portal? - whispered Anka, and her eyes lit up with excitement and anxiety. Shadows began to appear on the walls, which seemed to dance to the rhythm of the flickering glow. From the other side of the portal an indistinct whisper could be heard, as if someone was calling them by name.... Spellbound in place, they did not yet know whether to take a step forward or run away without looking back. Each second seemed to drag on forever, and the light suddenly shone brighter, revealing the outlines of something - or someone - on the other side of the portal. Would they dare to cross the threshold of the unknown?