On a chilly autumn night in the quaint village of Crestwood, resident Emma Brighton prepared for bed. She secured her charming cottage, double-checking each window and door, a soothing routine. As she readied for sleep, a cacophony ruptured the silence: shattering glass, a scream, then silence again, enveloping the night. Unusual in this peaceful hamlet, Emma thought, curious and concerned. Donning her robe, she ventured toward the source, the hairs on the back of her neck standing tall. Stepping outside, she noticed a chilling scene under the pale moonlight: a body, motionless, on her front lawn, drenched in moonlight and a pool of blood. Horror gripped her as she recognized the fallen figure: her friend and neighbor, Lily Forrester.