The Dare in Kursk Forest

My name is Anton, and before that night, I never believed in anything supernatural. Ghosts? Demons? Folklore? Just stories told to keep kids in line. But Kursk Forest changed all that.

Kursk Forest is huge—dark and dense, stretching miles from my hometown of Rylsk. The trees grow thick and close, their branches tangled like gnarled fingers. Locals say the forest is alive with whispers when the wind blows, but it’s not the trees talking. It’s something else. Something old. Something cold.

The elders called it Ледяной—the Icy One. They warned children not to wander near when the nights grew cold, saying that when you hear the broken lullaby carried on the wind, it means Ледяной is near, hunting for warmth.

None of us really believed it. My friends Kirill, Nadya, Maks, and I were just bored teens looking for something to do. One evening, Kirill found an online post claiming to have a ritual to summon Ледяной. The instructions were simple, almost silly. Light a white candle. Open a window. Recite a chant seven times:

At first, we laughed about it. But Kirill dared us all to try it that very night, in Maks’s attic.

The attic was cold and cramped, the wooden beams sagging low. The heater was on, but it didn’t help. The wind clawed through a cracked window, and the candle flickered weakly on an old plate.

We sat in a circle around it. Kirill started the chant quietly. The words felt strange, slippery on my tongue, like cold ice melting on hot metal.

One time. Two times. Three times.

The candle flickered wildly, but the air was still.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped sharply. My breath came out in thick, white clouds even though we were inside.

Five times.

Six times.

I shivered uncontrollably. My hands were numb.

Seven times.

The candle snapped out as if smothered by an unseen hand.

An unbearable silence followed.

Then, a soft lullaby drifted through the open window. Slow, cracked, like the scraping of frozen glass against stone.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream.

But I was rooted to the spot.

I knew we had done something we should never have done.

Chapter 2: The Frost Spiral

Morning came, but the warmth did not. The cold clung to us like a heavy blanket, seeping deep into our bones.

When I woke, the attic was still icy. The heater had shut off sometime during the night. I rubbed my arms and tried to shake the chill, but it only got worse when my eyes fell on the window.

On the inside of the glass, a spiral was etched in frost. Thin, sharp, like a claw mark left by some frozen talon. The spiral twisted inward, hypnotic and strange.

Maks reached out hesitantly to touch it, and as his fingers brushed the icy pattern, he jerked his hand back, shaking it as though he had burned himself.

“It’s colder than anything I’ve ever felt,” he whispered, his breath hitching. “Like ice… but worse.”

We tried to wipe it away, to warm it with our hands or even the heater, but the frost wouldn’t budge. It was as if the spiral was alive, holding onto the window like a curse.

That day, things only got stranger.

My bathroom mirror fogged up when I showered, and when I wiped it clear, the same spiral appeared on the glass.

Nadya’s phone froze solid mid-text. Kirill’s dog refused to come inside, whimpering and staring toward the forest edge.

Even the wind seemed to hush, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

And then Maks vanished.

His bedroom window was wide open, the glass cold to the touch. His bed was made perfectly neat, but no sign of him anywhere.

We searched the woods and nearby fields all day, but there was no trace.

Only the spiral remained — carved deep into the wooden floor beneath his bed.

We didn’t know what to think.

Had we really summoned something?

Or was this all just a terrible nightmare?

Chapter 3: The Price of Summoning

After Maks disappeared, everything changed.

The air seemed heavier, colder—like the forest was pressing down on us with invisible fingers.

Kirill was the first to break. His face grew pale and hollow. He muttered the chant under his breath all day, barely eating or sleeping. He looked like someone haunted, and maybe he was.

Nadya started sleepwalking, her eyes blank and distant. At night, she wandered outside, murmuring strange, icy words none of us understood. We’d find her standing in the coldest spots, shivering, as if Ледяной was whispering secrets in her ear.

As for me, the cold never left me. No matter how many layers I put on, I shivered and shook. Even in the sunniest rooms, my breath came out in frosty clouds.

The mirrors in my house fogged over with strange spirals every morning. At first, I tried to wipe them away, but the frost returned, sharper each time.

One night, I woke to find a spiral traced across my ceiling — made of pure frost. I felt it before I saw it — a chilling, crawling sensation like cold fingers touching my skin.

The lullaby came again — faint, cracked, and slow — ringing in my ears as I lay frozen in bed.

I wanted to believe it was all a coincidence. A nightmare.

But I knew better.

The forest had claimed Maks.

And now it was coming for us.

If you find the chant or hear the lullaby — don’t say the name.

Don’t light the candle.

Don’t open the window.

Because once Ледяной hears you…

He never leaves.

Chapter 4: He Comes for Warmth

Nadya disappeared next.

Her bedroom was found frozen solid. The window shattered—glass scattered like ice shards across the floor. The air inside was so cold, our breaths froze before they even left our mouths. It felt like stepping inside a freezer.

No sign of Nadya anywhere.

Kirill was barely human after that. He curled into a corner, rocking back and forth, whispering the chant over and over like a prayer—or a curse.

As for me, I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake from.

The cold follows me everywhere.

My skin burns with frostbite I can’t explain.

The spirals have spread—etched into every mirror, every window, even onto my skin like frozen tattoos.

I don’t know how much longer I have left.

If you find this, listen closely:

Never summon Ледяной.

Never say the chant.

Never light the candle or open the window.

Because once he’s near…

The cold never leaves.

And neither will he.