Morenwald stretched to the north like an endless green, undulated by the mist of morning dew. Among the tangled branches and old moss, everything seemed to be waiting - for someone or something to disturb the silence that had lasted for centuries. Iris knew that by crossing the colourful gates of the forest, she had already changed. The stories of Morenwald were varied - the old women of the village whispered about the glows that appear between the trees during the new moon, and the young laughed at the ghost stories, inventing their own, bolder legends. On this night, however, there was no one with her. Just her, a faded backpack and the silent promise she made to herself as she gazed at the starry sky. She had spent her seventeenth birthday looking at the Morenwald forest wall through the kitchen window. Now she was taking steps along a path barely visible in the luna light. She shuffled between fallen trees, past old stones on which lichens were arranged in strange symbols. Her heart beat faster as the dense boughs began to absorb the light and the air became cooler. Iris had the feeling that every few moments the world around her changed - the animal tracks became deeper, and the echo of her own footsteps resounded strangely. She had heard stories of 'silent guardians', beings who watch over the balance of the forest, but only now did she feel their presence. Amidst the rustling leaves and the breath of the wind, she heard something else - a melodious laughter, cut off abruptly, as if someone had interrupted it halfway through. She turned towards that sound, her heart telling her that she shouldn't. But her legs seemed to carry her on their own, deeper, to a place where the moonlight did not reach. After a few minutes of walking, she came upon a clearing. In the middle, overgrown with ivy and lichen, stood a stone tower that was not on any map. The door to it was ajar. The sweet smell of herbs and dampness wafted around it, and the air vibrated with invisible energy. From the darkness inside the tower came rhythmic sounds - as if someone was playing an old rhythm on invisible drums. Iris came closer, reaching out her hand towards the cold surface of the stone. She whispered something under her breath, though she herself didn't know what - perhaps a plea for courage, or perhaps she was trying to remember every detail before going inside. At that very moment, as her hand touched the lock, the door opened wider with a shrill creak. A light emerged from inside the tower, blinding the girl for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, she saw in the threshold the silhouette of someone or something she had not expected....