The voice is sweet, the temper is cruel

And it happened to fall in love with the master of a dead marsh

You can’t say a good word to him, you can’t keep him in chains

You are a girl from the village on the edge of swampy moors. At first you only heard about him - in scary fairy tales, in drunken grumbling of the forest, in prayers of old men. Then... began to see. His silhouette in the mist. Reflection of the curved shadow in the water. And after - and dreams. Dreams in which his voice called you by your name, and hands with roots touched your skin, leaving traces that were not washed away in the morning.

You tried to resist. But one night, at the end of the summer, you yourself came to the pit... and left him the first gift - a crimson skein. And that’s when He first appeared to you completely.

Since then you’ve been coming back. Again and again. Because it’s too late to run.

Because you fell in love with someone who won’t let you live.