The ancient, overgrown house loomed at the road's end, a silhouette against the moon. Susan stumbled over the steps, her breath catching as the bundle in her arms shifted. Behind her, the flashlights of her pursuers danced in the darkness.

Desperation clawed at her. She ripped through thick vines clinging to the door, pushing it open with a loud, protesting bang as one hinge gave way. Dust motes danced in the slivers of moonlight, but Susan paid them no mind, rushing into the suffocating darkness within.

The door wobbled shut behind her, sealing her fate, for now. She stood still, pupils dilating, hand outstretched, searching for the stairs in a house rumored to be a den of demons. She hugged the small, still form to her chest, her heart a raw wound.

Up in the attic, safe from the banging on the front door below, she gently unwrapped the bundle. Her daughter. Dead. She wept silently, clutching the icy cold baby. "I would give anything to have you come back to me," she whispered, rocking back and forth. "Anything, please."

A metallic clatter in the dark startled her. Her eyes snapped open, resolve hardening. If a demon truly resided here, she would summon it. She would dare the myths. "If at all there is a presence here," she swallowed, voice shaking, "make yourself known to me now!"

Silence. Then, a sudden, chilling rush of wind, swirling the darkness. And a voice, clear and authoritative, yet gentle. "Anything?" it questioned.