The doorbell’s sudden ring punctured the silence of the night, its echo lingering in the air. An unexpected shiver crept down my spine, a natural response to the nocturnal intrusion. With cautious steps, I approached the door, the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway amplifying my heartbeats.

Peering through the peephole, I beheld two figures swathed in hooded cloaks. My heart caught in my throat; their arrival was a chilling reminder of a prophecy shared by a wandering seer years ago. The prophecy that had held our small town in a grip of whispered fears and veiled anticipation – the prophecy of the ‘Visitors’.

The taller figure raised a gloved hand, knocking on the door. “We mean no harm,” a voice echoed from beneath the cloak, its calmness stirring a storm in my mind. Following an instinctive pull, I unlatched the door, the cold night air rushing in as they entered.