Staszek and Zosia sneak into the Green House at the edge of the village and find a strange map, a hidden sign, and a sound coming from behind the wall.
Staszek did not believe in ghosts. Zosia knew that, which was exactly why she dared him to come with her to the Green House at the edge of the village.
The old place had been whispered about for as long as anyone could remember. The adults called it dangerous. The younger children called it haunted. Staszek called it a test he was not going to fail, even if the thought of it made his stomach tighten.
It was early August. The air smelled of strawberries and fresh-cut grass, and the tall weeds brushed against their legs as they crossed the empty field. The Green House stood ahead of them beneath a tangle of ivy and leaning branches, its paint peeled to a tired, mossy colour that gave it its name. From far away, the windows looked like dark eyes.
As they drew closer, Staszek had the uneasy feeling that someone was waiting inside. He told himself it was only the wind moving through the trees.
"Probably an owl," he muttered.
Zosia gave him a sideways look, but she did not laugh.
The front door hung open by a hand’s width, as if someone had gone in only moments before and forgotten to close it. Zosia slipped through first, light on her feet. Staszek followed, trying not to let the floorboards complain beneath him.
Inside, the house was cool and dim. Dust drifted in the pale light from a cracked window, turning gold for a second before disappearing again. The room smelled of old wood, damp plaster, and something else Staszek could not name.
"Staszek. Look," Zosia whispered.
On the floor near the wall lay an old map, folded and torn at the edges. It should have been buried under years of dust, but it looked as if someone had touched it recently. Staszek knelt beside it and saw the village drawn in careful lines. Where the Green House should have been, there was only a strange mark: an eye ringed by seven stars.
Zosia reached out for the paper.
Then a sound came from behind the wall.
Three quick knocks. One slow knock.
Staszek froze.
The knocking came again, louder this time, and a whisper slipped through the silence, soft enough to be almost nothing.
Their names.
Staszek caught Zosia’s sleeve. She stared at the wall, wide-eyed, and neither of them moved. The map trembled in his hand.
Then the wooden panel gave a low creak, as if something on the other side had just pushed it open.
A narrow black passage appeared in the wall, and cold air spilled out of it, thin as a breath.
Staszek looked at Zosia. Zosia looked at the dark opening.
Something was waiting inside.