Keanu Reeves stalks the treeline as Nikolai Kade, a curse‑breaker with winter in his voice, while Jennifer Lawrence is Mira Sokol, a folklore scholar whose notes read like survival spells. The teaser slashes from birch‑white snow to stove‑red glow: skull lanterns flicker, a fence grows bones, and the hut steps forward on taloned legs, windows blinking like eyes that remember debts.

Ribbons whip from the trees; a mortar and pestle lifts off like a silent helicopter; threads of fate stitch themselves across the air and cinch tight. Sound design thrums with cracked lullabies and iron chains; edits hit on breath and crow‑wing. Set‑pieces pop—an ice‑lake sprint as the house skates behind them, a spiral stair that turns to vertebrae underfoot, a kitchen oven that exhales names with smoke.

Reeves wears weary grace and a knife; Lawrence counters with wit, nerve, and a map of stories that might be instructions. Final sting: the hut kneels, the door smiles, and something inside says both their names.