It was a deep spring night and the wind was whipping through the fields surrounding Grabina. In the moonlight, three friends stood on a creaking bridge: Marek, Lena and Bartek. Each of them had a torch in hand, and provisions and warm sweatshirts in their rucksacks. Behind their backs, the village was still asleep, but here, on the edge, another world was beginning. Their destination was an old mill. Abandoned for years, it held a wealth of secrets and it was these that attracted the young daredevils. Legend had it that on each first night of the new moon, whispers could be heard inside and even shadows could be seen by those without owners. The locals avoided the mill by a wide margin - but Lena laughed at their fear, Marek feigned courage and Bartek .... simply didn't want to be worse. - Ready? - Marek looked around at his friends. - Sure enough. - Lena moved first through the scrubland that covered the old courtyard. The grass was so tall that it sometimes disappeared from their sight, dry leaves crunched under their feet. When they reached the door, Lena knelt down to undo the lock. Inside there was a chill and a musty smell. They traced the walls with the light of their torches, looking out for traces of the former inhabitants. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling, and somewhere in a corner a frightened bat buzzed. As they ascended to the first floor, an old board groaned under their feet. In the middle of the floor lay a dust-covered, closed box. Bartek breathed deeply and reached for the lid. Already, he was about to lift it when a soft, drawn-out whisper came from the darkness. Someone - or something - had clearly moved in the depths of the mill. They held their breath, not knowing what to do. Small pieces of plaster began to fall from the ceiling, and an icy gust blew through the gaps in the boards. The three friends froze in stillness. Behind their backs something rustled and the door downstairs closed with a slam. And then...