YAGO (distant, as if remembering)
In my dreams, that very same voice… it told me things. Sometimes, it even brought me… well, let’s say, luck.

Caliop watches him intently, her gaze shifting to the wanderer. The man, noticing her stare, replies with a subtle, evasive smile.
Caliop steps toward him, her eyes challenging the calmness of the man with the backpack.

CALIÓP (defiant)
Alright, Mr. No-Name… where did you get that record?
(pauses)
It wasn’t just a coincidence you got into my car, was it?
(more intense)
And what’s this about “finding a troll”? I think it’s time you started answering a few questions.

The wanderer holds her gaze, then simply shrugs, as if the answer were far too obvious to bother speaking aloud.

Suddenly, Dagmar lets out a low growl, eyes fixed on the door, as if something were about to happen. His gaze gleams with an almost supernatural instinct.

YAGO, who had been silently watching, abruptly stands up. His face hardens as he glances at the security monitor. His eyes widen for a moment, as if a shadow crossed his mind.

YAGO (whispering, worried)
This doesn’t look good... I think I know who they are…
(a tense pause)
And if I’m right… if I’m right...

With a speed he hadn’t shown before, Yago pulls a set of keys from his robe and tosses them toward the wanderer.
The metallic clink of the keys cuts through the air, marking the end of the calm.

YAGO (commanding, with authority)
Take it. Get out through the back door.

The wanderer takes the keys without hesitation, slips them into his pocket, and heads toward the rear exit without saying another word. Dagmar follows close behind, his body alert and eyes scanning everything around them.

Caliop, now completely thrown off, watches as the wanderer and his dog leave. The feeling of uncertainty builds around her. She looks at the security monitor once more. On the screen, she sees four figures approaching—four shadows in the distance. Among them, she can make out a woman and three men, all dressed in suits and wearing dark sunglasses.

CALIÓP (tense, staring at Yago)
What’s going on, Yago? Is it the police?
And why aren’t you going too?

Yago, eyes locked on the monitor, seems to have made a decision. His lips curl into a half-smile, but there’s no joy in it—only deep exhaustion.

YAGO (in a somber voice)
Everyone has a purpose, Caliop. Maybe we’ll fulfill it... or maybe we won’t.
(He pauses, his gaze now fixed on her)
If I were you, I’d get out of here… fast.

The pounding on the door intensifies. Cracks and thuds echo through the walls. The hinges begin to give. The sound of wood splintering fills the room—a prelude to the chaos about to unfold.

Caliop, alarmed, springs to her feet and runs toward the back exit without looking back. The sound of her footsteps slamming against the floor merges with the deafening blows against the door.

Yago, still behind the counter, swiftly manipulates something out of sight. A mechanism clicks beneath him, a metallic sound swallowed by the tension in the air.

Suddenly, the front door bursts open with a crash. The final blow echoes throughout the shop. The small bell above the entrance falls to the floor—its faint chime, the last remnant of calm.

The four intruders step in with firm purpose. Two of them—broad-shouldered men—begin to search the store. The third, face hidden behind a dark mask, remains near the door, watching. The woman strides forward with a serpentine smile, her heels tapping on the wood.

—“Nice gramophone,” she purrs. “I’d love to acquire the last record that played here… Now, where are the beggar, his little dog… and the young lady?”

YAGO
“The shop is closed.”

One of the men tried to move around the counter, but Yago, with surprising agility, pulled out an old shotgun and fired. The blast sent the intruder flying several meters back, crashing into a display of musical instruments.

The woman flinched, startled, but swiftly dodged the second shot, which struck another suited man squarely in the chest. As Yago turned to find her again, she was already gone.

A creak behind him made him spin and fire—but the last man, whose skin resembled black stone, didn’t even flinch. Yago tried to reload, but the intruder was already on him, grabbing the shotgun and forcing the barrel upward.

A misfire shattered one of the stained-glass skylights, and shards of glass rained down like falling stars.

The Egyptian cat leapt onto Yago’s shoulder, whispering something inaudible into his ear. Yago stood frozen, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The woman emerged from the shadows, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

—"Now I see it... I see your secrets," she said softly.

Yago, exhausted, murmured:

—"It’ll all be over soon..."

Without warning, he bit the cat’s ear and tore off a piece, triggering a furious scream from the woman. But Yago no longer had the strength. He collapsed to his knees as the man in the black suit picked up an old guitar.

—Man in black: "Did you see it?"

—Woman: "Enough."

—Yago (with a faint smile): "Always wanted to make a final note..."

A dull crack echoed through the store as the guitar struck.

Silence fell over Yago’s shop. Shards of broken glass crunched beneath the feet of the intruders. The red-haired woman, her Egyptian cat now wounded, faded into the shadows.

Yago’s breathing was ragged, his defiant smile still lingering, even as his body gave out.

The man in the black suit, skin like stone, surveyed the wreckage—then turned his gaze toward Yago.

A barely perceptible vibration ripples through the air. A high-pitched sound, almost inaudible—like a string plucked in the void.
The man in the suit halts, alert, his dark eyes drifting toward a distant point only he can see.

Miles away, the vagabond and Caliop move through shadowy alleys, Dagmar, the faithful white dog, close at their heels.
Caliop, still shaken by what just happened, tries to piece her thoughts together.

—"What the hell just happened back there?" she asks, her voice laced with fear and frustration.

The vagabond, who until now has remained silent, finally speaks:

—"It was a doorway. A vibration. The key to something that was never meant to be found."

Dagmar lets out a low growl, as if he too understands the weight of his master's words.

Midday sun through clouds casts pale glints over the damp alley.
Caliop, her expression resolute, tightens her jacket and locks eyes with the vagabond.

CALIÓP (firm, in a hushed tone)
I know exactly where we need to go.

Her boots crunch over the cobblestones as a cold breeze tugs at loose strands of her hair.

EXT. OUTSIDE THE BAR – A FEW STREETS AHEAD

The flickering neon bathes their faces in a reddish glow.
The vagabond, with his unkempt beard and eyes bright with curiosity, lets out a short laugh.

VAGABOND (smirking)
A bar? I expected nothing less.

Caliop arches an eyebrow and walks forward without answering.
Dagmar, ears alert, receives a quick pat.

VAGABOND (murmuring to the dog)
Be good, my friend.

INT. BAR – MODERN, LIVELY ATMOSPHERE

Soft electronic music fills the space, blending with murmured conversations and the clinking of glasses.
Caliop leans on the bar, her finger tapping impatiently.

BARTENDER (smiling, professional):
What can I get you?

CALIÓP:
Something strong. Surprise me.

The vagabond slides in beside her, gesturing silently for the same.

Caliop’s eyes glint with curiosity.

CALIÓP:
Your name?

VAGABOND (shrugs):
Doesn't matter.

CALIÓP (with sarcasm):
Fine. Max, then.

MAX (smiling):
Max… sounds like a pet’s name.

A charged silence settles between them as the drinks arrive.

CALIÓP (sighs):
I don’t like you. What have you dragged me into?

MAX:
No one's forcing you to come.

CALIÓP (murmuring):
But I can't ignore it.

MAX:
What did you see on the record sleeve?

CALIÓP (looking into her glass):
A constellation... the farthest one I know.

MAX (nodding):
Then we’re going to need help... from a troll.

CALIÓP (laughs sarcastically):
Great. What’s next? Mermaids?

MAX (soft chuckle):
We'll get to that.

Caliop finishes her drink and gestures for another.

CALIÓP:
And how exactly are we going to find him?

MAX:
That’s the easy part. I know exactly where he is.

CALIÓP:
A relative of yours?

MAX:
I know like I knew where you’d be... and where Yago was.

CALIÓP:
I really don’t like you, she says, downing the next glass.

MAX:
You want in on this journey or would you rather I vanish?

CALIÓP (clearly drunk):
Sure, let’s go meet your ogre cousin…

MAX:
Troll.

CALIÓP:
What?

MAX:
Troll. Not ogre.

CALIÓP:
Whatever, she mutters, gesturing for a refill.

After a moment, the vagabond leaves a wad of crumpled bills on the bar.
Caliop stumbles after him, out into the night

Ship Cabin – Dawn

The gentle rocking wakes Caliop. Dagmar licks her face, and she groans, eyes half-closed.

CALIÓP (murmuring):
Are we... floating?

MAX (from a corner):
Headed to Siberia.

Caliop laughs in disbelief and falls back onto the mattress.

CALIÓP:
Of course... why not? Wait—what?!

MAX:
It’s not you. Everything’s moving, the vagabond replies.

Caliop peeks through a porthole. Through the glass, a massive cargo ship crosses the frame, and the vastness of the ocean stretches endlessly.

CALIÓP:
Where exactly are we?

MAX:
We’re headed to the taiga of Eastern Siberia.