From time immemorial, the Russian Earth rests not on the stone scruff of the mythical Atlanteans, but on the shoulders of Russian women. What is our contemporary capable of, thrown into the pitch hell of 1237, in the fierce winter of Batu’s invasion? What will he choose - to escape back to the “bright future” or to stand shoulder to shoulder with his ancestors in order to drink the common cup? Will he climb the wall of doomed Ryazan? Will he not tremble, having washed himself with blood in a merciless slaughter? Will he be able to correct the past, prevent a catastrophe, and abolish the Mongol Yoke? Will he hold the Russian Land on his fragile shoulders - or will he collapse under the unbearable burden of grief, blood and ashes?