While staying at their grandfather’s house, Jagoda and Philip discover a strange blue circle under an old oak. When they touch it together, they fall into a world that should not exist.
Jagoda moved first, parting the tall grass with both hands so carefully that it barely stirred. Philip followed close behind, gripping a twig like it was a sword, though he kept forgetting not to snap it against his leg.
A holiday at Grandfather’s house was never ordinary. The garden seemed to change its mind from one day to the next, and there were always hidden corners waiting to be found between the gooseberry bushes and the raspberries. This time, the secret was under the old oak tree.
At its roots, the earth formed a perfect circle, smooth and dark as if it had been drawn there with a giant compass. In the middle grew a cluster of silver mushrooms. They glimmered in the shade, and when Philip leaned closer, they gave off a sharp, strange smell, like rain on stone and something faintly sweet.
Grandfather had said it once, almost to himself, while looking at the tree from the kitchen window: “This oak remembers another time. Not everything beneath it is what it seems.”
Jagoda crouched down and stared at the ring. “Look at this,” she whispered. “It’s too neat to be natural. Maybe it’s a sign.”
“Or a map,” Philip said, though he did not sound convinced.
He reached out and touched the nearest mushroom with one fingertip.
The ground gave a small shiver.
Philip froze.
Jagoda pressed her palm to the moss at the edge of the circle. A low hum rose through the air, soft at first, then deeper, as if something hidden underground had woken up and was listening.
“Philip...” Jagoda said, but the rest of her words vanished.
The circle flared.
Blue light burst upward so suddenly that Philip had no time to blink. The grass, the oak, the garden path, even the sky seemed to tilt and blur. The earth opened beneath them like a glowing mouth, and they slid downward together, spinning through sparks of light that whirled around them like fireflies caught in a storm.
Then, just as abruptly, everything stopped.
They landed on soft, springy grass that felt warm under their hands. Philip pushed himself upright and stared.
They were no longer in Grandfather’s garden.
Around them stretched a meadow bright with impossible colours. Flowers lifted winged petals into the air as if they might take off at any moment. In the distance, tall creatures with long necks and shining sapphire eyes moved between pale trees. Above, the sky shimmered in layers of purple and gold, and the clouds drifted past like slow, floating fish.
Jagoda grabbed Philip’s hand so hard it hurt. “Where are we?” she whispered.
Philip opened his mouth, but no answer came.
A soft step sounded behind them.
They turned.
One of the sapphire-eyed creatures had come much closer without them noticing, and now it tipped its head and spoke in a strange, musical voice they somehow almost understood.