The moon, a luminous pearl in the velvet sky, cast long, silver shadows across the city. Inside, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminated seven-year-old Elizabeth, tucked snugly in bed, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her older sister, Historia, a vibrant redhead with eyes that sparkled with mischief, stood poised, ready to spin a tale far grander than any book.

"Dragons!" Historia declared, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, her red eyes wide with dramatic flair. She painted a vivid picture of colossal, scaly beasts, their wings blotting out the sun, their breaths igniting cities into infernos. Elizabeth, her ruby eyes equally wide, shivered beneath her covers.

"Historia, do dragons really exist?" Elizabeth whispered, a tremor in her voice.

Historia chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Haha! Nah, they don't. They're just figments of the imagination, only exist in fantasy books." She paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. "But rumor has it... some old folks believe they're hiding in the shadows, waiting for a chance to come back. A chance to come and eat you up!" With a sudden lunge, she playfully grabbed Elizabeth's arm, eliciting a terrified shriek.

"Aaaaaaahh! Leave me alone! Mummy!" Elizabeth screamed, her fear momentarily forgotten in a fit of giggles. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and their father, a kind man with a thin mustache, entered, followed by their beautiful mother. Bedtime calls were issued, warm goodnights exchanged, and then the door clicked shut, leaving the sisters once more in the quiet intimacy of their room.

"So, as I was saying..." Historia began, resuming her tale, unaware of the terrifying reality that was about to shatter their peaceful night.