Night descended like a velvet shroud, thick and unrelenting.
Amelia lay curled beneath her blankets, warm in body but restless in mind. Sleep evaded her. Outside, the wind howled through the trees like voices lost to time, whispering secrets no one was meant to hear. Invisible fingers brushed against her windowpane, tapping gently, almost rhythmically—like a forgotten lullaby turned sinister.
She turned onto her side, eyes wide in the darkness. Her heart still hadn't calmed—not since the forest, not since she'd heard that voice.
A whisper.
Calling her name.
Not a figment of her imagination. No... it had felt too real.
Quietly, she sat up. The house was silent, her parents fast asleep. She moved carefully, her bare feet pressing against the creaking wooden floor as she walked to the window. The fog outside had thickened, smothering the world in a gray blur of shifting shadows and silhouettes.
And then—
Movement.
A flicker.
A figure.
Pale, fast, weaving between the trees like smoke. Her breath hitched. Her pulse quickened.
They were back.
The strangers in the woods.
She leaned in closer, breath fogging the glass. As if sensing her gaze, the figure stopped. Slowly, it turned. Their eyes met through the haze, and even across that distance, she felt it:
A gaze like ice.
Unblinking. Unfeeling.
Dark.
Amelia stumbled back. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Suddenly, the figure moved. Fast. Too fast. Like a shadow blown toward her by the wind.
It came closer—closer—
Until it stood just outside her window.
A grin split its face, twisted and terrifying. Blood—fresh and crimson—dripped from its sharp fangs.
Amelia couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Time froze. The world held its breath.
Then—
Craaaack—the window groaned open.
The creature climbed inside, slow and deliberate. She stood paralyzed, her limbs unresponsive, her mind screaming. It was as if she were caught in some spell, hypnotized by its very presence.
It drew near, blood glistening at the corner of its mouth. Its tongue slid across its lips.
"Your scent…" it said, voice low and rasping. "So delicious."
"Wh-who are you?" she choked, barely able to speak. She wanted to run, scream—but her body refused.
Mom… Dad… she screamed inside her mind.
Please, someone—save me.
"You'll be a delightful dessert tonight."
Its voice curled around her like smoke.
Before she could react, it was standing directly before her.
She gasped.
It leaned down, its tongue grazing her neck slowly, savoring her.
"Mmm... Delicious."
The word dropped from its lips like venom.
Then its mouth opened wide. Fangs—long, sharp, gleaming—loomed closer.
No. No!
She screamed silently, praying for deliverance. And then—suddenly—something answered.
"Help!" she cried out loud, the sound desperate and raw.
A blast of unseen force struck the creature.
It was flung backward—through the window—shattering glass and silence alike.
A crash echoed down the hallway.
Her parents woke with a start.
"Amelia!" her father shouted.
Philip grabbed an old revolver, his late father's, and bolted from the bedroom. Margaret followed close behind, fear etched into every line of her face.
Amelia collapsed to the floor, breathing ragged. And then—
He appeared.
A figure stepped from the shadows. Familiar. Comforting, somehow.
"Griffon…" she whispered. The name tasted like memory.
He turned to her, eyes scanning to ensure she was unharmed.
"You dare interrupt me?" The monstrous figure returned, furious. It charged at Griffon—but with a single flick of his hand, its head separated from its body. The creature collapsed, lifeless.
Amelia screamed, eyes wide, frozen in horror. She looked at Griffon—her protector or something else entirely?
He stepped closer. She instinctively backed away, trembling.
"Amelia!" Her father burst through the doorway, gun raised. The sight before him stopped him cold: his daughter... and a stranger.
Cold surrounded the man—an unnatural chill. He didn't look alive. He looked... risen.
"Step away from my daughter!" Philip aimed the gun directly at Griffon.
"Come to me, Amelia!" Margaret's voice trembled.
"Don't touch her!" Philip barked.
Griffon raised a hand. Amelia flinched, certain he'd harm them.
"No!" she pleaded, her voice cracking.
"Amelia!" her father shouted.
The gun fired.
"No, Dad!" she screamed, curling into herself, covering her ears.
But Griffon didn't strike back.
Instead—he caught the bullet mid-air.
It clinked to the floor. Her parents collapsed beside it, unconscious.
Amelia was shaking, unable to look up.
Had they... died?
"Wake up," Griffon said quietly.
She lifted her gaze. He stood over her, extending his hand.
"I only put them to sleep," he said. "They'll be fine."
"Y-you…?"
"They won't get in your way again."
"They?" she echoed, her voice small. She placed her trembling hand in his. It was cold as ice.
He helped her to her feet. Outside, the wind still whispered through the trees. But the monster was gone.
"Why are you here?" she asked, glancing toward the window.
There was nothing there. No trace. No blood. No footsteps.
It was as though none of it had ever happened.
"Keep your window closed," Griffon said. "Don't open it if someone calls your name."
"What's happening?" she asked. "Why are they here?"
Griffon didn't answer. His face held worry he didn't speak aloud.
"Please… tell me. What's going on?"
There were too many questions. Too many shadows in this town.
"Don't go anywhere. Not at night. And do not ignore my warning," he said, his voice firmer now.
He turned away, hand on the window.
"Wait—what happened? Who was that thing?" she asked, frantic. "You know something. I know you do."
"They are not good people," Griffon said. "And things are far from safe. Stay inside when night falls."
It echoed her father's words from just days ago.
"What do you mean?" she asked again. But Griffon was already retreating.
"Lock the door," he said—and vanished into the mist.
"Wait!" Amelia called—but her vision blurred. The world spun, and darkness claimed her again.
She fell to the floor.
Unconscious.
Like her parents.
The window closed behind her. Locked tight. Then, with a murmur of magic, Griffon cloaked the house—shielding it from the eyes of those who hunted.
"My Lord," a voice said as another figure appeared. "You didn't wipe her memory… again."
Griffon turned to look at her, his expression unreadable.
"I know," he said softly. "I don't want to."
"Shall we go?" the man asked.
"Yes," Griffon replied. "We have more to find. Before someone else gets hurt."
And with that, they disappeared into the darkness, chasing the creatures that had brought terror to her door.
Amelia slept, untouched by the chaos she'd just survived.
For the first time in years, she dreamed.
And in that dream, she was safe.