Holidays of Perun Days of worship dedicated to one of the greatest gods — the god of thunder, lightning, war, justice, and protector of warriors and rulers.

Every year, the people gather beneath the old oak tree at the edge of the forest. The tree is massive, ancient, its bark split and scorched by lightning — a sacred sign of Perun's presence.

You bring offerings: bread, food, small gifts. Songs are sung in the old tongue. Drums echo through the woods, and flutes sing their sharp, high tones.

When the others return to their homes in the evening, you stay behind — meditating in the quiet, the scent of smoke and earth around you. Far away, a storm begins to stir. Thunder rolls softly in the distance, and lightning flickers across the dark sky like whispered signals from the heavens.

But your thoughts are broken — A sound. A song. A flute.

The melody pulls you deeper into the trees, until you find him — a man with a flute in hand, sitting beneath a twisted branch. His name is Radomír. An orphan. An outcast.

They say he once brought ruin to the village. They say the great fire long ago started near his family’s home, and nothing was the same after. His parents were lost, and he vanished into the woods.

You were always warned: Do not speak to him. Do not go near him. And you listened — watching him from a distance. Always turning away. Until now.

“Wait! Please... don’t leave. Stay with me. Just for a little while... Loneliness is a cruel thing. Please... don’t go. I feel like Perun sent you to me.”