A narrow path strewn with white pebbles led across a darkening glade - straight to an iron gate, behind which loomed the silhouette of an old mansion. None of the local residents approached the place after dark, but Lena, Igor and Patryk were not ordinary residents. They had always been drawn to what others feared. Now, armed with torches, a backpack with a notebook and a camera, they stood at the gate, looking around nervously. The moon hung over the house, cut by a thin cloud - as if someone had left a scratch on it. - Ready? - whispered Lena, clutching in her hand a small key found in her grandfather's old trunk. - 'Always,' replied Patrick, and pushed open the gate, which gave way with a protracted rasp. Inside the garden, herbs and weeds grew above their knees. The heavy smell of damp and dust hit them. As they approached the door of the residence, they felt a shiver down their spine - the upstairs window flashed briefly with a yellow light, which immediately went out. Igor picked up his camera. - 'Did you see that! Lena was silent. She carefully put the key in the lock and turned it. The lock gave way and the door opened with a creak. The inside of the house was drowning in darkness, but somewhere on the stairs she could hear deafening, slow footsteps.... The friends looked at each other, holding their breath. Would they decide to go inside to discover who - or what - was staying in the mansion under the cracked moon?