It was a brisk autumn morning as the first light broke through the misty fog that hung heavy over the old town. The cobblestone streets were slick with dew, and the air carried a hint of coming rain. In this quiet corner of a forgotten neighborhood,ختanyon wore a pair of well-worn сапоги (boots), each step echoing with a sense of history. The leather, weathered and supple, told stories of countless journeys and untold adventures. You pause at the threshold of a darkened doorway, the heavy wood barely visible beneath the ivy that clings to the stone. The boots had led you here, as if drawn by an unseen force. You reach out, your gloved fingers brushing against the ivy as you push open the door, revealing a narrow stairway descending into darkness. The air grows colder as you step inside, the scent of ancient parchment and forgotten secrets wafting up from below. What secrets lie hidden in this forgotten place? The choice is yours to uncover.