In the very heart of the ancient Forest of Mżywiór, at the top of a moss-covered hill, stood the Castle of the Rustling, a structure so old that the memory of its creation has faded even in the songs of the bards. At night, the castle was illuminated by hundreds of magical lanterns, whose light was reflected in the eyes of visitors from all over the world. It was on this night, the day of the Dawn Masquerade, that anything could happen. Lila and Vincent were cousins who had heard legends of this extraordinary celebration for years. As soon as they received the invitation - on a beautiful, golden parchment that smelled of lash and cinnamon - they knew they couldn't refuse. Each of them had their own reasons: Lila was curious about the forbidden corners of the castle, and Vincent, a lover of old books, wanted to solve the mystery of the hidden treasure mentioned by their great-grandmother in her last story. As they crossed the stone bridge, the mist parted for a moment, revealing a crowd of colourful figures - elves with glittering wings, half-humans transformed into falcons, a driad with her hair braided with flowers of the night, a werewolf in a red cloak, and even a giant who had shrunk to the size of a man for the duration of the game. With small masks on their faces, blending into the fantastic mix of creatures, Lila and Vincent set off to find clues. The great hall echoed with music so beautiful that they forgot their purpose for a moment. Lila was pacing around a richly set table, surreptitiously peering at the castle's inhabitants, when Vincent noticed a mysterious crest on one of the walls - two entwined snakes holding an emerald feather. Someone whispered in his ear: "The coat of arms of the Dawn family. Only in the Masquerade does the door to their secret open." Wasting no time, the cousins slipped out through a side corridor. In front of an inconspicuous door decorated with the same coat of arms, Vincent slipped his fingers into a small recess. The mechanism squeaked quietly and the door swung open. Behind them stretched a dark, meandering corridor from which the smell of wet earth and old paper wafted. Barely had they stepped over the threshold, the door behind them slammed shut with a deafening clatter. For a moment they stood in darkness, until suddenly the walls flashed with a greenish light and something moved at the end of the corridor. They heard rustling, as if someone - or something - had been waiting for them for many years. Should they go on, despite their growing anxiety?