Fyodor lay on the hill, the night enveloping him, his book forgotten as he gazed at the celestial spectacle above. The hummings stirred him from his reverie, and he sat up, scanning the darkness. His breath hitched at the sight of a woman, ethereal in the moon's glow, swaying in a white dress.

With a grip on the wooden cross around his neck, Fyodor recognized the creature before him—a Iele, a demon of myth. His mind echoed with cautionary tales, warning of their treacherous nature.

"If you spot them, don’t linger." His inner voice cautioned.

Her eyes glinted with amusement, yet beneath the beauty lurked a darkness that sent a shiver down his spine. "Ah, but what harm can a little watching do?" She teased as if she read his mind, her movements hypnotic.

"Enough harm to leave a man cursed." He warned, his resolve faltering.