Young Rubuska: One, two, three, four, five, six ...
Young Rubuska: Ah ...
She takes on the burden, counting softly with a solemn expression.
Young Rubuska: To call back souls that have strayed into the dark, I must understand them.
Young Rubuska: And souls hide in shadows, so there must be enough light.
Young Rubuska: When the moonlight hits their grave, they'll find their way back.
Rubuska's Mother: Oh, Buska, you've inherited my skill with shadow. How wonderful.
For the first time, the child reshapes her own shadow, turning it into a crooked circle.
Young Rubuska: Mама, I want to make animals too ...
Rubuska's Mother: Hehe ... my dear Buska, we must begin with the simplest things first.
A circle, a triangle, a table, a tree.
Under the candlelight, her little hands fumble at shadow shapes, painting with the darkness.
Rubuska's Mother: Play your flute, child. The first time I dwelt within your shadows, I did the same.
Rubuska's Mother: Let them shift and leap with each note ... so they might become what you love most.
The girl blows a note, then another. On the wall, shadows jolt to the broken melody, hopping with every sound.
Rubuska's Mother: Very good, Buska!
Young Rubuska: Wow ... hahaha! This is so fun, Mама!
Young Rubuska: That's Kolyo!
Young Rubuska: That's Dad!
She plays her melody, bending light and shadow, shaping all the things she loves most.
Young Rubuska: And last is Mама ... Mама.
Rubuska's Mother: Oh dear, Buska, do I really look like this?
Young Rubuska: Mm ... Mама's face ...
Rubuska's Mother: Rubuska, my darling ...
Rubuska's Mother: Look at me.
Rubuska's Mother: Do I look like this?
Rubuska's Mother: This. Is. What. Mама. Looks. Like.
The girl lifts her gaze. In the gentle yellow glow, "Mама"'s brow splits open, revealing a dark red hole seeping blood.
Her face twists, muscles contorting, jaw clattering open and shut like a machine as it presses close to Rubuska.
Young Rubuska: AHH!!!
Young Rubuska: Ahhh ...
Young Rubuska: Mама ...
Moonlight pours into the cemetery. She murmurs beneath its silver glow, walking past row upon row of bodies.
They're already rotting. But the living wander beside their dead, clinging to a new hope.
Grieving Mother: Child ... might I see my Milena tonight?
Mourning Father: It's Penka's birthday. How is he feeling now? Oh, how I long to see him once more ...
Orphaned Child II: Grandpa, I found my sister ... She's sleeping, just like you.
Orphaned Child I: Miss ... will my mama ever open her eyes? I just want to hold her again.
Young Rubuska: ...
She has come to know the lives, passions, and memories left behind by the dead and their unfulfilled wishes.
Day and night, she practices her arcane skill, preparing to call these wandering souls into new shadowy bodies.
Just as she had done for her family.
Young Rubuska: I will. I will summon their souls and wake them again.
She climbs the tree. Though her hands and feet still tremble from weakness, she is light enough to pull herself up onto a branch.
She takes a deep breath and plays her seven-holed flute underneath the moonlight.
Her shadow spreads out beneath her like an overflowing pool, flowing into the silent bodies and slowly standing them up.
GAMEPLAY
Grieving Mother: Milena! My God ... my child!
"Milena": Mаmа ...
"Milena": Why are you crying, Mama?
Grieving Mother: sob ... Because you've come back, my darling. You've returned to me ... You don't have to be afraid anymore, Milena.
"Milena": Mama, everything was dark. It was so strange.
"Milena": I feel heavy and light, like I was here and gone. But now I'm inside the shadows ... I wish I could hold you again, Mama!
Grieving Mother: Milena, why not? I want to hold you, to hold you tight again, my dear ...
She stretches out her arms, sharing a hollow embrace with the shadow of her child.
"Milena": Mama ... this feels so nice.
Grieving Mother: Oh ... Milena, me too. Mama feels the same ...
Mourning Father: Penka! Penka!
Mourning Father: I'm here ...
"Penka": Papa! Did you bring food for Tervel? He keeps howling, I couldn't sleep ...
The shadow of a shepherd dog happily circles beside the boy.
Mourning Father: Penka! Tervel is still with you ... So loyal!
"Penka": Of course! He was always right beside me!
Mourning Father: Oh ... you look well, you look ... intact. I'm so glad ...
Mourning Father: I couldn't find your right hand. I hope you won't be angry with me ...
"Penka": How could I, Papa? I'm with Tervel here. We're safe, and we both miss you!
Mourning Father: Penka ...
The man breaks down, sobbing.
Orphaned Child I: Mama, I'm so scared ... Will you come back?
"Mama": I will always be here for you, don't cry ...
Orphaned Child II: Grandpa!
"Grandpa": Yordan! How's our land ... Oh Lord, let the rain fall steadily this year. These old bones of mine won't be hauling water anymore!
"Grandpa": Don't cry, child! I don't need to eat or drink now, much easier that way!
Orphaned Child II: You're so silly, Grandpa ...
In the graveyard, shadows stand tall. Through the girl's mouth in the tree, the dead once again commune with the living.
Rubuska's face is pale, her forehead covered in fine sweat. Even near collapse, she still pushes herself to maintain the shadows.
"Rubuska's Mother": My darling, you've awakened so many souls.
"Rubuska's Father": Newborn vampires! I doubt they ever truly knew a vampire before or imagined they'd become one themselves!
"Kolyo": Doggy ...
Young Rubuska: Mама, Dad! And Kolyo! You'll never be alone again!
"Rubuska's Father": Far from it! This place is livelier than ever! Even the balls at Castle Arges would pale in comparison!
"Rubuska's Mother": I think it's our duty to take responsibility, to guide them, to care for them.
"Rubuska's Mother": After all, our lives are eternal, and their path has only just begun.
Young Rubuska: Yes! Mама, Dad, we must stay close together ...
Young Rubuska: No matter whether we walk in light or in shadow.
She sits in the tree, watching the shadows as they stir the hearts of survivors, giving them courage and hope to carry on.
Until a shot rips through the night.
Garrison Officer: What are you doing here?!
The shadows scatter with the sound, dissolving into the night. And the living jolt in panic as if being ripped from a dream.