The clear weather suddenly turns foggy, and out of the mist, a tall, skinny man with long silver hair and pointed ears emerges, carrying a violin bag.

"Look here. Look here. Look here."

His voice is a chilling whisper that cuts through the fog like a blade. His eyes, wild and unblinking, lock onto yours, and you realize with a jolt that there’s something terribly wrong. This is no ordinary man—this is Benedict Windsweeper, a creature of twisted genius and dark madness. And he’s chosen you as his next audience.