In Brzasek, a town under a cliff, dragon flights were celebrated long ago. Now all that's left are painted ribbons on lampposts and empty legends. Nina was fourteen years old and an apprentice in the town library above the harbour. She found a card in an old register, overburnt and smelling of cloves and smoke. In the margin was a drawing of a shell, signed: Last Nest under the Peak. She held the page up to the light and noticed the thin lines like a map. In the evening she climbed the path to the stone ridge where the crevasse began. She carried a torch, a flannel rucksack and a whistle from her grandfather, a lighthouse mechanic. On a piece of paper someone had written three rules: don't stray, don't call out, don't look. From the bottom of the crack came a murmur, similar to a distant motorboat on a wave. When she touched the rock, it was warm, as if a hidden heart was throbbing inside. Something hard rattled under her shoe; she picked up a crystal shell the size of a plate. - 'Are you playing explorer again? - whispered Maks, jumping out from behind the boulder-strewn wall. She didn't ask him for help, but he always heard when she was planning an expedition. She handed him a shell and a card; he turned pale when he saw the congruent signs. - If it's the Nest, why hasn't anyone been looking for it? - he asked quietly. - 'Because people prefer fireworks to the truth,' she replied, turning the whistle on its lowest tone. The air trembled, as if the earth had responded with the same thing, only deeper and longer. Thin veins of metal flared in the gap, arranging themselves in circles like breaths. They squeezed through the narrow corridor until the walls became smooth as glass. At the end lay a round boulder, cracked, with a pulsing light in the crevices. Nina lifted the shell; the mark on the paper and the cracks fit like a puzzle. The whistle beeped on its own, though no one blew any more, and the boulder responded with a crack. From the depths came a quiet clatter, faster and faster, as if someone was counting the seconds. Maks squeezed her shoulder as the whole vault trembled and the light suddenly dimmed. Just above them, an eye, larger than a lantern, opened and blinked once. And then, out of the darkness behind them, a long, stony shadow unfolded.