The damp June air poured in through the open window. Lena looked at the street full of night lights that spilled over the cobblestones like liquid gold. She had never lived in such an old building-with bricks still remembering times no one wanted to talk about out loud. Three weeks ago, she had moved in here with her younger sister, Klara, and with each passing night their imaginations played more and more strange tricks. What bothered them most was the attic. Although the building manager claimed it had been closed for years, the girls could hear quiet footsteps from upstairs, the shifting of something heavy, sometimes even muffled laughter. One evening, when Lena was returning from university, she met her neighbour from across the street-Ark at the door, who always carried a notebook with incomprehensible sketches. When Lena told him about her observations, he only smiled crookedly and said: "It's not an attic, it's more like a floor above." Before she had time to ask what he meant, he was gone. On Friday, Lena, Klara and their college partner, Michal, gathered in the kitchen with a plan to finally resolve the attic issue. Under cover of darkness, they climbed the steep, creaking staircase that hadn't seen a renovation in decades. Each step carried an echo, as if an empty space stretched beneath their feet. At the end of the corridor stood an old door with peeling paint. Lena slipped the key she had "accidentally" found in the drawer of the previous tenants. The door gave way with a rasp, and an air cooler than the night outside gushed from inside. The attic was full of dusty furniture, scattered books and... a mirror. But this was no ordinary rectangle mirror. It had a broken frame, and there were fine lines on the glass that could not be rubbed off. As Lena got closer, it seemed to her that in the reflection she could see not only herself and her company, but also hazy figures standing somewhere behind them. Michael reached for the torch to get a better look at the scratches on the glass. Just then the lamp near the ceiling, hitherto dead and black, suddenly flashed with light. The door behind them slammed shut with a bang. Lena turned around slowly, with her soul on her shoulder. On the surface of the mirror, a new shape appeared - a distinct hand that did not belong to anyone present. As they approached the mirror, a quiet whisper came from the darkness, and the air around them began to vibrate, as if someone wanted to communicate something to them. They did not yet know whether they should run away or take a step forward....