The return of a groom from the abyss is not always a miracle. He came back changed: too perfect, too quiet, with dead eyes the color of old amber. An unfaithful shadow stretches behind him, and with his arrival, flowers wither and dogs howl in the house. This is not Mikhailo, but something ancient that craves not only his likeness, but also the light of his bride. Yet somewhere in the swamp's mire, the real one still languishes, and his last memory of love begins its journey back, across the boundary of worlds.