Prologue
Wind howled through the trees as Joe battled to close the front door of his cottage to the elements. He huffed out a sigh as he shrugged off his coat and placed it on the hook in his front porch, willing his tired bones to warm up against the winter chill. As he shuffled into the warmth of the cottage, he set about going through the motions after a long day toiling the farm.
A modest dinner of roasted vegetables, bread and yesterday's roast chicken made its way to his kitchen table, where he spent no time demolishing it to chase away his hunger. The floorboards creaked in protest as he lingered by the kitchen sink to clear away the plates and crockery he used to assemble his meal. Looking out the kitchen window, the slumbering farmland greeted him in the moonlight from tonight's full moon. Peeking through the rushing storm clouds to illuminate the rolling hills of Willow Farm, it was set over 500 acres and nestled by Elderwood Forest. It produced many harvests in its hay-day, but now only sustained Joe into his pension.
Firelight danced across the walls as Joe moved across to his dilapidated armchair with a cup of hot tea to chase the cold out of his bones. He sighed whilst maneuvering down into the seat, as he recounted the responsibilities he needed to achieve tomorrow ahead of spring arriving - the rain hammered its agreement against the window, whilst his joints groaned in protest.
Now perched comfortably, Joe looked across at the lounge to the eclectic furniture he had collected over the years and familial memorabilia. Pictures hung haphazardly above the fireplace of loved ones, some living and others not. His gaze softly landed on members of his direct family - his son, Jacob, his wife and their daughter, Ava. Sporting the signature Strickland hair, his son's curly brown mop crowned a smiling face, whilst the couple sandwiched a giggling baby. Ava's curls had graduated into waves as she grew up, and her twinkling hazel eyes had dimmed in her older age. Now firmly in her 20s, she visited the farm less but her presence here woke up something in the land that Joe had only seen himself do.
Pensively, Joe thumbed through his journal to record the activities of the day. His morning rounds revealed a sheep had been attacked, with blood illuminated the frosty ground, the sheep carcass had been dragged to a gap in the fence. Too big to fit through, the carrion had been disemboweled, ravaged and discarded by the attacker. Foxes were typically desperate at this time of year, but the wounds the sheep sported alluded to something else. The usual markers of dropped fur and paw tracks were missing from the sheep enclosure and deep claw marks scraped along the hind of the body, likely meaning that the sheep tried to bolt away from its attacker, but the pools of dried blood along the scratches told Joe that it had mastered its grip before the sheep could register.
As he was writing, the familiar ache around his temples beckoned his attention. Pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Joe tried to steady his breath at the oncoming throb that now straddled his forehead and eyes. Hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention and he fought to keep his breathing steady. Keeping his eyes squarely on the fireplace, dark shadows danced in the periphery of his vision and the feeling of unease started to creep over him. Steadfast weariness set into his limbs and the hand set upon his face drew down to the armchair with a soft thud.
A click from the corner of the room drew his gaze away from the fireplace into the shadow. Shifting in his seat, Joe announced gruffly, "I was wondering when you'd finally make your way in". Fixing his attention onto the shadow took force from the energy wells he had built up over the years, but his weary body from the day toiling on the farm shifted in protest.
"It's nice to know my company was expected," a smile danced over the shadowy figure's lips, as it skulked across the room, keeping to the darkness. Its maneuvers were light and purposeful, limbs gently gracing the floorboards with no protests. Positioning itself behind Joe's armchair, a light pressure pressed down on his shoulders. His heart rate picked up a beat and goosebumps rippled over his body in protest. Simultaneously, Joe's head started to feel heavy on his neck and he fought his instincts to close his eyes.
"It's been long enough now, Mister Joe" the voice purred, "your time watching the Gate has come to an end. Your family have their own lives, your wife has passed on to a better place and there's nothing keeping you here". A light touch brush traveled down Joe's cheek to the top of his shoulder and the fatigue made way for true exhaustion.
Battling the fatigue, Joe moved to get out of his armchair, but the dark pressure kept him firmly in place. His eyes made their way to the picture of his granddaughter, Ava, and he determinedly fixed onto her bubbly face, "My granddaughter will take over the farm and she'll look after it just as well, if not better, than I have. There's no way you will keep the Gate open for as long as a Strickland is living on Willow Farm"
An ominous chortle bounced around the room, "So idealistic! I've been waiting for this day to arrive and I'm done with this back and forth". A hot slice ballooned across Joe's neck and black stars bubbled in his peripheral vision. A wet blanket of blood spilled down from his neck onto his lap, but Joe's vision didn't avert from his granddaughter's portrait.
"As long as a Strickland is on Willow Farm," the words gurgled out his mouth, "then the Gate will be watched and no creature like yourself will slip through". The blackness swallowed his vision and warmth seeped away from his fingers, creeping up into his chest.
