At the end of Amber Street stood a house with an attic that smelled of summer, old wood and apples. On this day, Zosia was climbing up the narrow steps, carrying her cat Almond under her arm. Almond was brindle like tree bark and had a single white whisker that always twitched when it was curious. - Watch your head! - called out from downstairs Grandma. - Just don't mess around, sweetheart. Zosia put her foot on the last step and slipped under the low roof. Rays of sunlight streamed in through a small window and swirled in the dust like tiny goldfish. Against the wall stood a box covered with stickers of colourful islands. On one of them someone had written in small letters: "The attic likes rustling". - Rustling? - whispered Zosia, and Almond answered her with a meow that sounded just like the crunch of a dry leaf. The box squeaked quietly as Zosia lifted the lid. Inside lay rolled maps, feathers, beads and jars with labels on which fancy letters said: "Morning Whispers", "Wind for Later", "Scent of Rain". One jar was smaller than the rest and had a silver cap. The label was yellowed but clear: "Light to the Night - open at the whispers". Zosia lifted the jar to eye level. Something glittered inside, as if a sliver of moonlight was swaying in the dark water. As she twisted the jar, silent sparks ran across the room, and Almond trembled with that one white whisker. - 'Light to the Night,' Zosia repeated. - I wonder if it's heavy. It was light, almost like a feather. On the silver cap someone had scratched tiny dots and dashes forming the phrase: 'Don't open it when the stars are asleep'. - So when to open? - Zosia looked out of the window. It was still afternoon, but the sun was beginning to hide, as if it too felt like peeking into the box. A sound came from downstairs: - Zosia, dinner's coming up! - Good! - she exclaimed, but she didn't feel like coming down at all. She sat down on the soft rug by the window and held the jar to her cheek. It was cool, yet warmth oozed from within - as gentle as a feather's breath. The wind stirred the curtain. A string of overlapping colours swept across the tiny window: pink, orange and a hint of purple. Zosia closed her eyelids and heard something that had not been there before - a quiet "ding... ding...", like bells hidden in the grass. Almond put up his ears. Zosia looked at the label: "open at whispers". Was it already? The whole loft became very soft and quiet, as if the night had sat down next to it and wrapped itself in a blanket. Suddenly, the lettering on the label flicked and the letters rearranged themselves, forming a new sentence: 'First say: good night, then listen'. Zosia swallowed her saliva. - 'Good night,' she whispered into the glass, feeling that she was doing something very important and a little strange. It happened immediately. A light moved in the jar. It didn't spill out, it didn't escape - it began to arrange itself. It was like a milky, silver vapour from which a crumb of a boat had blossomed. The boat had a flag with the letter "Z" and a bell at its bow. When the bell sounded, the smell of cinnamon and fresh apples hung in the air. - Do you see that? - Zosia touched her finger to the glass. Almond carefully poked the jar with his nose. The light responded. It made a path in it, thin and silver, leading like a thread from the boat to the edge of the glass. A drawing of a tiny key shimmered on the cap. Sophie put her ear to the jar and heard a whisper, as quiet as the smallest of mosquitoes: - Psst... Sophie.... - Who's there? - she asked, even though she knew there should be no one in the jar. The whisper enveloped her words like a feather. The attic held its breath. The old beams no longer creaked, the clock downstairs seemed to have forgotten to tick, even the sparrows outside the window sat quieter. Zosia stroked the nut and saw tiny letters appear around the rim, growing like seeds: "Three knocks - one, two, three - and it will work." - One, two, three - repeated Zosia in her mind. - But with what? Suddenly something knocked from inside. Knock. Knock. Knock. Exactly three times. Zosia jumped all the way up, Almond hissed, but did not run away. His white moustache trembled like a string. - Children, I'm already washing my hands! - called out from below Granny, but her voice came as if through a pillow. Zosia tightened her fingers on the jar. Her heart was beating fast, but not from fear, but from the same feeling you get when you open a present and you don't yet know what's inside. She took a deep breath. The air tasted of an autumn orchard. The cap vibrated. There was a 'click', so quiet that it was almost gone, and yet everything inside Zosia buckled: now! - Almond, hold it,' she said and slid the jar onto the wide windowsill. The cat knelt beside it, like a sentry. Zosia touched the tiny key in the drawing with her finger. The key sparkled and unfolded into a thin ray that wrapped around Zosia's finger like a bracelet. The ray was warm and resolute, trembling like the arrow of a compass, before dropping onto the nut. "Click." The nut spun on its own, once, twice, a third time. And it stopped. Zosia took air into her cheeks. The almond stretched out its neck so that it looked like a soft, brindle snake. Inside, the boat rocked harder. A bell sounded like a tiny laugh. The silver trail twitched and extended a little beyond the glass - like a thread that suddenly gets longer than it was. Sparks danced across the window sill and a luminous line, thin as a spider's web, was drawn on the wood, leading from the jar to the window handle. - He wants me to open it,' Zosia whispered. The air became thicker and cooler, like at night, just before the first star. Zosia put her hand on the handle. At the same moment there was a rumbling somewhere behind the wall. Or was it just her heart? The doorknob was as cold as an ice flake. Zosia looked at Almond. The cat blinked slowly, in encouragement. - One... - she said, as the counting calmed down. - Two... Suddenly something in the jar lit up so strongly that the loft became as bright as the middle of the day. The light jumped high up to the beams. A curtain trembled on the window, a light feather fell from the wall. The bell by the boat sounded once more, this time quite close, as if right next to Zosia's ear. And then the cap popped off with a quiet "plink!", and something silver slid out of the jar, which twisted in the air like a ribbon and....