In the ocean, beyond a dense wall of fog, lies an island to which no one should ever approach.
Once, eternal summer reigned here. Storks of the soul—guides of the departed—flew here. They touched the earth only for a moment to gather strength before the final transition.
Until people discovered this secret place.
A pier and several houses grew along the shore. Hunters used to come here for a rare diversion.
They killed the terns, took their stone bodies as trophies, and called it almost mercy—the birds didn’t bleed; they simply petrified.
Eternal summer has departed—replaced by cold autumn, endless rain, and fog. The land began to die along with the birds.
Along with the trophies came the incurable plague that afflicted the body.
Beatrix, the daughter of one of those hunters, traveled to the cursed island—to seek salvation where this death was born.
Despite the dampness and rain, memorial candles burn along the path. Although the island is reluctant to have another visitor, it seems to want to show her something.
Deep red puddles darken the ground beneath. It seems this fading world is about to drown in them for good.
