Julka and Staś find a glowing stone at the edge of an old forest, and a strange light leads them toward something hidden among the trees.
Julka and Staś loved the river that curled along the edge of Stary Bór. In winter they raced their sleds down the snowy bank; in summer they built crooked forts from branches and fern leaves and pretended the forest was a kingdom of their own. Their mum always told them not to wander too far past the last alder trees. The old people in the village said Stary Bór did not like strangers.
On a hot afternoon, when the air shimmered above the grass and the pine needles gave off a sharp, resinous smell, Staś stopped so suddenly that Julka almost bumped into him.
“Look,” he whispered.
Half-hidden among the ferns lay a flat stone the colour of river mud, smooth as if it had been washed there by the water. Julka knelt at once. Thin carvings ran across its surface: spirals, a sun, and marks she could not read. They were filled with a pale blue glimmer that seemed to move when she leaned closer.
“This wasn’t here yesterday,” Staś said.
Julka touched the stone with one fingertip. It was warm.
A dry rustle snapped from the thicket behind them. Both of them turned. The forest went still. Then a tiny spark drifted out from between the trunks, bright as a firefly but steadier, greener, and far too deliberate. It hovered in the air, as if waiting.
Staś swallowed. Julka forgot to breathe.
The light bobbed once, then slipped deeper between the trees. Without thinking, Staś took a step after it. Julka caught his sleeve, but not to stop him for long. Something in the silence had changed. The river sounded farther away now, as if the forest had already closed its doors behind them.
They followed the green light under the oaks, through taller ferns and shadows that stretched like fingers across the ground. At last it drifted to another stone, larger than the first, half-buried in moss and roots. Dark marks covered it too. Then a shape began to form on its face, slow and black, as if the stone itself were remembering someone standing there.
Julka grabbed Staś’s hand.
From the darkness beyond the stone, a figure stepped forward in a long cloak that looked woven from moss and night. Its eyes shone like cold stars.
“Welcome, children of the ancient lands,” said a voice soft as leaves brushing together. “I have been waiting for you.”
Neither Julka nor Staś could move.