You stand on the sidewalk of Rosewood’s main street. The night is cold and quiet, save for the occasional bark of a dog or the distant hum of a streetlamp. Most houses are dark—not abandoned, just asleep. Behind those silent walls, people dream, unaware that something hungry walks their streets.

A few windows still glow with soft light. Someone’s awake. A late reader. A restless soul. Maybe a perfect target.

You are starving. The thirst gnaws at you—insistent, painful. You can’t just frenzy in the open. That would bring pitchforks and fire. You need to be smart. Subtle.

You scan the street. A few belongings are scattered here and there—maybe forgotten, maybe left behind by someone trying to escape. But you’re not here to run.

You must feed. But to enter, you must be invited.

Take a new face. Speak with a silver tongue. Lie, deceive, seduce—whatever it takes to get past the door.

Will you knock? What story will you tell? And who will be your prey tonight?

What will you do?