Deep in the great Boer, just on the edge of the small village of Dębowica, Simon and Jagna loved to meet after dark. That night, the moon hung low over the trees and the wind whispered among the leaves, as if telling the legends of the ancestors. The whole village was getting ready to celebrate Kupala Night - a festival when the worlds of humans and spirits intertwined closer than usual. Szymon, the blacksmith's fifteen-year-old son, had a restless heart and a head full of stories about ghouls, mermaids and waterbenders. Jagna, a peer and childhood friend, was the daughter of an herbalist - she knew every nook and cranny of the forest and every herbal scent. When the singing around the campfire was over, they slipped quietly out of the village boundary, carrying only linen bags with amulets to protect against the creatures of the forest. They reached the murky river, where the garlands let down by the girls flowed with the current. "My mother said not to stay in the forest too long that night," Jagna whispered, looking around uncertainly. "Ancestral souls can be either kind or capricious." Simon smiled, although he also felt a strange chill on the back of his neck. "I've always wanted to see a rusalka," he chuckled with feigned courage. "Maybe today we can." They sat in silence for a while, listening to the murmur of the water. A light flashed in the distance, soft and greenish, hovering slightly above the currents of the river. Jagna squeezed the amulet. "It shouldn't be here," she said, looking at Simon with wide eyes. The wind had picked up, bringing with it the smell of wet earth and old smoke. In the distance, among the reeds, something moved. Simon suddenly felt that they were not alone. A tall, shining figure was hovering above the water, and with every passing moment the light grew brighter. It seemed to be standing just above the surface, looking straight at them.... Suddenly from the darkness comes a quiet singing, so beautiful and penetrating that Simon and Jagna's words froze on their lips. The world around them seems to freeze. Should they come closer or flee to the village? Simon looks at Jagna - her eyes glittering with emotion and fear. And then, from the reeds on the other side of the river, a second figure emerges, this time shrouded in mist. The singing becomes more intense and the air thickens with energy. The friends must decide what to do, because something - or someone - is waiting for them to move....