NATALIJA UGRINA

I was on my way to Pamplona when a name I’d once read whispered through my thoughts — Zugarramurdi . Hidden in the green folds of Navarre, right by the French border, this village had been calling my curiosity for years. People called it Spain’s Salem , a place where myth, fear, and faith once collided under moonlit skies. The road curved through pine forests and mist, and by the time I arrived, the air already felt heavier — as if the hills themselves were keeping secrets. I