The Key to Midnight

Jenna is in her modest bedroom, sitting up in bed, her face marked by distress. Her hair is disheveled, and she holds the blanket tightly to her chest. Moonlight spills in through the window, casting shadows that accentuate her tense expression. There are remnants of a restless sleep around her—pillows askew and a glass of water on the bedside table.

Night after night, the same haunting nightmare plagued her sleep.

Jenna is standing in the cluttered, shadowy interior of the seer’s shop downtown. Shelves laden with dusty tomes and strange artifacts line the walls. The Old Seer, an elderly man with a serene, almost knowing expression despite his blindness, sits behind an ancient wooden table. His gnarled hands gently hold a worn, cold key.

Desperate for answers, she visited the enigmatic Old Seer.

In the evening, Jenna stands determinedly in front of an ancient, ominous door. The key from the seer is clutched tightly in her hand. Her face is set with resolve despite the evident fear in her eyes. The setting is a deserted alleyway bathed in the pale glow of nearby streetlights. The door looks old and sturdy, slightly worn with traces of intricate carvings.

Tonight, she would face the truth behind the nightmare.

Jenna stands at the top of a spiraling staircase that descends into darkness. The door behind her is now ajar, casting a narrow beam of light into the abyss below. A cold wind brushes her face as she hesitates, one foot ready to take the first step. Her expression is a mix of apprehension and resolve.

The cold wind whispered secrets of what lay beneath.