Exterior – Viktor’s House – Dawn
A sturdy, weathered cabin of wood and stone stood tall among snow-covered pines, aged but unshaken by time. In the freezing morning air, every breath turned to mist.
Max, backpack slung over his shoulder, walked across the porch with steady steps. Behind him, Caliop pulled her coat tighter around her, visibly uncomfortable in the cold.

Viktor waited at the steps, hands in his pockets, his expression serious but warm.

VIKTOR (in Russian):
—Доброе утро. (Good morning.)
Here’s the gear you asked for. Also the bribes.
(He hands Max a set of documents.)
The authorities shouldn’t give you trouble. There’s food for several days too.
Ivan’s just finishing loading the truck.
Come with me.

Garage – Moments Later
Amid oily shadows and the ever-present stench of burnt oil sat an old military truck, its chassis marked by years of rough use.
Ivan, his hands coarse and his face surly, was loading crates and backpacks with gruff, purposeful motions.

Max raised an eyebrow as he eyed the vehicle, clearly skeptical.

VIKTOR (patting the hood with nostalgic pride):
—It’s what’s inside that matters.
Old Nikkita always finds her way home.

CALIÓP (with hesitation):
—You’re not coming with us?

With his back turned, Viktor lifted his stump in farewell.

VIKTOR:
—No.
Safe travels… and good luck.
You’ll need it, little one.

Road – Aerial View
The truck crawled along a rough path of mud and stone, struggling through the vast Siberian taiga.
An endless sea of fir trees and mist-covered mountains swallowed the horizon—silent and unrelenting.

End of the Trail – Dusk
Ivan slammed the brakes and brought the truck to a jarring stop.
He stepped out, lit a cigarette with indifference, and began tossing gear from the back.

MAX:
—We’ll set up camp before night falls.

CALIÓP (complaining):
—Is it much farther?

Taiga – Hours Later
The forest loomed like an ancient titan: branches creaked under the weight of snow, and a primordial cold seeped into the bones.
Max moved ahead with Dagmar by his side, both alert.
Caliop lagged behind, grumbling with every step.

CALIÓP:
—We’ve been walking for hours! I’m cold, I’m starving… I definitely heard a bear!
And let’s not forget—no Wi-Fi out here!

Forest Clearing – Nightfall
Max came to an abrupt stop, scanning the surroundings.

MAX:
—Here. We’ll make camp.

Caliop dropped onto her backpack with a sigh, completely worn out.

Later – Campfire
The crackling flames offered comfort against the frozen hush.
Max set up a portable station: solar panels, a rugged military laptop.

MAX:
—Can you give me a hand with the tent?

Wrapped in a thick blanket and warmed by a hot meal, Caliop looked at him skeptically.

CALIÓP:
—And what’s the plan for finding this legendary troll?

MAX:
—We’ll use drones to scan rocky terrain.
He eats stones.
Where the rocks go missing, we’ll find him.

Caliop let out a long, weary sigh.

CALIÓP:
—Watching rocks… how thrilling.

She dragged herself to her feet and slipped into her tent, leaving behind the faint rustle of the nocturnal forest.
The taiga stood watch in silence, as the darkness thickened.

The journey had only just begun.

SCENE: SIBERIAN TAIGA – EXTERIOR – AERIAL VIEW
A vast ocean of snow-covered conifers stretches beneath a dull, overcast sky. In the heart of the desolate landscape, an old, abandoned military warehouse rises like a fortress—weathered by time, but still commanding in presence. Armored trucks and off-road vehicles are lined up in formation, while armed men in dark tactical gear check their weapons, load supplies, and adjust their gear with military precision.
The air vibrates with the roar of engines and the metallic click of weapons primed for action.

INTERIOR – ABANDONED MILITARY WAREHOUSE
Inside the industrial gloom, the heavy echo of boots bounces off rusted metal walls.
A wild-looking woman with reddish hair strides forward with the confidence of a predator. In her arms, she carries an Egyptian cat with piercing eyes and a mutilated ear, purring with arrogant indifference.

She stops in front of a towering figure hidden in the shadows: a man with obsidian-black skin, smooth and gleaming, and eyes of burning amber that seem to peer straight into the soul of anyone who dares look.
His very presence radiates danger—and when he speaks, his voice is deep and rough, like fractured stone.

WOMAN (with a wicked grin):
—I can feel it… it’s close.
Soon, it’ll be ours.

MAN (deep, skeptical voice):
—Are you sure, Lira?
We can’t fail on a whim.

LIRA (stroking the cat with unsettling gentleness):
—It’s not a whim. It’s a whisper... and it’s calling me.

MAN:
—Then we hunt.
But if anyone stands in our way...
(a fine crack forms slowly along his stone-like arm)
...they’ll turn to dust.

LIRA (eyes burning with ferocity):
—Just how I like it.

The man gives a solemn nod, and the two turn toward the convoy waiting outside.
With a gesture, the massive warehouse doors begin to open slowly, letting in the cold, pale light from outside.
Engines roar with renewed fury, filling the air with a rising tension.

The convoy rolls out, plunging into the frozen taiga.
The distant echo of engines and the cold metallic clatter of weapons becomes the ominous prelude to an unrelenting hunt.

The threat is in motion.
And the ancient, silent taiga prepares to bear witness to what’s coming.

The camp had evolved over time. A larger tent, improvised with tough tarps, now stood beside stacked crates and a folding table where Max sat, focused on his rugged military laptop.
Nearby, small solar panels caught pale flashes of morning sun.
The crunch of snow mingled with the whisper of wind through the treetops, and somewhere in the distance, the cawing of crows echoed through the frozen air.

Dagmar patrolled with purpose, his nose skimming the frost as if he could read the secrets buried in the taiga.
Between towering, ice-covered trunks, Caliop paused, breath short from the cold.
Her eyes swept over the imposing landscape—an endless sea of conifers, with clearings where orange sunlight turned the snow a shimmering gold.
The air was pure, filled with the scent of pine resin and the echo of long-forgotten stories.

MAX (raising his voice without looking up):
—Caliop, come here. I want you to see this.

CALIÓP (muttering as she approaches, resigned):
—Tell me this is worth it…
We’ve been freezing out here for days, and I’m still living on military rations.
Seriously, Max, I NEED a hot shower.

She reached the table and glanced at the laptop screen.
Live drone footage showed a lake surrounded by gray rocks, with patches of ice floating on its surface.
Without lifting his gaze, Max handed her a tablet.

MAX (gesturing precisely):
—Look at this.

On the tablet, the feed shifted to recordings from previous days.
Max slid his finger across the screen, switching between images.

MAX (in a meticulous tone):
—Rock formations near the lake...
(Switches to the next)
—Here, rocks are missing from the shore...
(Another swipe)
—Now from the opposite side...
(One last image)
—Each day, more and more gone.

CALIÓP (squinting):
—So this thing eats rocks?

MAX (with a faint smile, pleased by the confirmation):
—Looks like it likes this spot.
Before it picks a new buffet… let’s go meet it.
Get ready.

Max typed with precision on the laptop. On the screen, the drone feed showed it pulling away from the lake, slicing through the leaden gray sky.
Beneath its shadow, the pine needles swayed in the wind, and the cold seemed to crystalize every gust of air.

The drone flew forward, crossing a snow-covered ridge…
Then suddenly, it stopped.

The camera panned downward, slowly.
At the top of the hill, still as a war statue, Kravos stood watching through a pair of binoculars.
His skin—rough, fractured black stone, like obsidian—gleamed under the pale morning light.
His amber eyes burned like ancient embers, radiating a predator’s patience.

His black uniform melded into his outline, a hunter perfectly blended into the forest’s dim palette.

The wind rustled through the trees, cracking the snow-laden branches.
And for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The lake, a frozen jewel nestled in the heart of the Siberian taiga, shimmered with cold brilliance under the waning sun.
Its icy surface mirrored a gray-tinted sky, streaked with lingering mist that clung to the water like winter’s whispers.
In the distance, towering firs leaned into the wind, their crowns bowing with the groaning of ice and snow.

Max, with his ever-present backpack slung over his shoulder, moved forward cautiously.
His eyes swept across the terrain, absorbing every detail with calculated precision.
Dagmar, his loyal companion, sniffed the air, his white coat glowing stark against the frozen world.

A few steps behind, Caliop came to a halt.
Her eyes wandered across the vast, snow-blanketed horizon, overwhelmed by the sheer scale and the ancient silence of the place.

(with a sigh, muttering):
—And now what, Max?

(without looking away from the drone feed):
—The pattern of missing rocks is cyclical.
This should be its next feast.

Max moved among frost-covered stones.
His boots crunched against the hardened snow.
Something unsettled him.
He frowned, and his posture grew tense.

Suddenly, a sound thundered along the lakeshore—
as if something massive had just torn through the stillness of the snow.

From a rocky ledge, a dark figure slowly descended.
Kravos.
His stone-like skin cracked with each step, the sound like rock splintering under unbearable pressure.
His towering silhouette cut through the white landscape, and the weight of his footsteps left deep marks in the frost.

(with a mix of confusion and fear):
—Is that the troll? Doesn’t look very friendly...

Max, serious, handed her the backpack without taking his eyes off Kravos.

(low, firm voice):
—No. He was at the record store.
Stay behind me.

Max stepped forward, facing the obsidian giant.

KRAVOS (voice ragged, mocking, and cruel):
—This is the end for you.
I’ll take my time… and enjoy every second of it.

Max didn’t wait.
He threw off his coat in a swift motion and swung a punch straight at Kravos’s rocky jaw.

CRACK.
Pain shot through his hand.
Kravos barely moved.
Max went for another strike—
but the brute caught his arm effortlessly, squeezing it like paper.

KRAVOS (with a wicked grin):
—My turn.

Max’s arm twisted under the overwhelming pressure.
In a brutal motion, Kravos hurled him like a rag doll.
Max hit the frozen ground hard, his back slamming against the icy shore.
Blood painted the snow red.

Caliop choked back a scream.

Kravos turned toward her.

(coldly):
—Lira wants you alive...
but she didn’t say in one piece.

He advanced slowly.
His presence weighed like a looming shadow.

Then—a flash of white.

Dagmar leapt, fierce and fearless, teeth bared—aiming straight for the enemy’s throat.

But Kravos was faster.
He caught Dagmar midair and slammed him into the ground with terrifying ease.

Dagmar’s whimper shattered the silence.

Caliop felt fear melt into pure rage.

Kravos raised a massive rock over the dog’s motionless body.

Then... a sound.
A deep rumble.
A primitive, colossal echo.

The snow beneath Kravos’s feet trembled.

Behind him, a huge boulder began to stir…
and shifted.

With a mineral roar, Grendel emerged.

Three meters tall, his body a fusion of ancient stone and moss.
His eyes burned like hidden embers beneath layers of rock.

(deep voice, echoing through the earth itself):
—You will not touch this animal.

Before Kravos could react, Grendel seized him with crushing strength.

Kravos kicked, struggled—
but he was nothing.

A crack.
A final snap.

With one swift motion, Grendel tore off his head—
and devoured the stone body without effort.

He paused, as if savoring the taste.

(curious, wiping a hand across his stony chest):
—Mmm… spicy.

Max, barely conscious, saw him through one half-open eye.
Dagmar, aching but alive, gave a faint wag of his tail.

Caliop stood frozen.
Her mind struggled to grasp what had just happened.

Then, with sudden resolve, she reached into her backpack and pulled out the vinyl and the scroll.

(raising her voice with strength):
—Grendel!

The titan stopped.
His burning eyes locked onto her.
There was something ancient in his gaze—
a flicker of recognition.

(his voice echoed like a buried cavern within a mountain):
—Interesting…
It’s been a loooong time since I’ve seen… that.

Silence fell over the taiga, broken only by the cold wind and the slow creaking of ice.

Fate had shifted.
And the story…
had only just begun.

Grendel—massive and imposing—sat heavily on a boulder, which groaned beneath his weight as if the earth itself were holding its breath.
His ember-lit eyes flickered as he studied the scroll in Caliop’s hands.

GRENDEL (deep, measured voice, like a mountain stirring awake):
—That scroll… it’s ancient.
In forgotten times, we trolls used it to communicate across great distances.
Humans carried it among us...
In those days… trolls and humans… were… friends.

Caliop leaned in, a sly smile curling her lips, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

CALIÓP (arms crossed, impatient):
—Well, how very enlightening. But… can you translate it?
And um… could you maybe talk faster? You know, like… normal speed?

She paused, then without the slightest shame, plopped down beside him, batting her eyes in mock sweetness like a mischievous kitten.

GRENDEL (tilting his head in amusement, as if observing a particularly strange creature):
—Always so impatient...
Fine. But I’ll ask something in return.

Caliop snorted, amused.

CALIÓP (raising an eyebrow, teasing):
—Really? The classic trade?
Come on, surprise me.

Grendel narrowed his eyes, intrigued.
His voice deepened, taking on a reverent tone, almost as if reciting an ancient riddle.

GRENDEL (with solemn weight):
—Tell me…
What’s your opinion on string theory?
And the role of astrology… in the fate of worlds?

Caliop stared at him in silence. She blinked.
Twice.

Then—without a word—she placed her hand on his mossy, stone-covered leg…
and yanked off a clump of moss with a sharp tug.

CALIÓP (flat tone, locking eyes with him as she let the moss fall):
—Go to hell.
Ask me something else.
Something that won’t take me a lifetime.
I’m… not immortal.

The titan stared at her, a mix of surprise and confusion in his glowing eyes.
Then—like a child caught doing something naughty—he slouched a little.

From behind, Max, still bloodied and unsteady, let out a rough laugh.

MAX (with a crooked grin, wiping blood from his mouth):
—Hah… I like her style.

Grendel folded his arms, putting on an exaggerated look of indignation.

GRENDEL (sighing in mock exasperation):
—Fine. Double challenge then.
First… tell me your name.

Caliop gave him a side glance, clearly suspicious.

CALIÓP (with a weary sigh):
—Caliop.

Grendel nodded slowly.

GRENDEL (with a sly smile):
—Second… dance.

Caliop blinked.

CALIÓP (in disbelief):
—What?

Grendel shrugged with theatrical indifference.