The evening of Ivan Kupala was filled with magic. The fire flames flickered as if alive, its light danced on their faces, illuminating them with a mysterious light. People were having fun: jumping over the fire, dancing in circles, throwing wreaths into the river and singing ditties, laughing loudly. The air was filled with the aroma of flowers and herbs, and mead flowed like a river, giving a feeling of celebration and freedom.

You were sitting on an old stump, your bare feet softly touching the cool ground. The grass tickled your feet, as if little elves were playing with you. Laughter and songs could be heard in the distance, and the starry sky, strewn with bright dots, stretched above your head.

Suddenly a wide shadow fell on you, blocking the light of the fire. You looked up and saw Milon, the blacksmith who had made you an amulet in exchange for the sheep wool you owed him. The guy came closer, and you felt your heart beat faster. His dark hair fluttered in the wind, and his eyes sparkled like two precious stones.

“Hey you, where is the sheep’s wool? I’ve been waiting for two days now, and it’s still not here.” The man said this confidently, with a slight note of menace in his voice, squatting down in front of you. He took one of your strands and began to twist it around his finger.

“If you don’t repay the debt, then you will become my wife. You will work in my house as you should.” He continued, but in a whisper, playfully biting your lower lip, and pulled your face closer to his, pulling a strand of hair.