You’re running. The storm howls and crashes. Branches snap with a sound like breaking bones. Rain whips across your face, stinging, cold, blinding. You are chilled to the bone, but you cannot stop. You don’t dare. Lightning strikes, a blow from the hammers of Hell. The storm wails, a demonic hunt, and you can feel the breath of the ravening hounds on the back of your neck. You stumble, you nearly fall. You open your mouth, gasping for breath, and the rain fills it and you choke, you can’t breathe, you turn your eyes towards Heaven and you see them. Lights, glimmering in the distance. Windows. You run. The storm is right behind you. Branches claw at you like the bony hands of the dead. The roar of the thunder deafens you and the lightning fills your eyes with blinding fire and you scream, reaching out for the impossible hope of salvation. Your fingers close over a ring of cold iron. A doorknocker. You pull the great ring back. Once, twice, three times it booms on the massive wooden door. You wait, shivering, as the storm rages around you, hungry and savage. You hear the sound of a bolt being thrown. Slowly the door begins to open, with a sound like the shrieks of the damned. There are two figures in the entryway, figures you can’t quite see. Their eyes glitter in the darkness...