One crisp autumn evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, a sharp rap echoed through your quiet house. You weren’t expecting visitors. Peering through the window, you found nothing but the empty porch—until a movement near the ground caught your eye.

A goose stood there.

Not just any goose. This one had an air of authority, his sleek white feathers pristine, his amber eyes sharp and calculating. His beak parted, and in a voice smoother than you thought a goose could manage, he spoke.

“I must come in. There isn’t much time.”

You blinked. Surely, you had misheard.

“I’m sorry—what?”

“I must come in,” the goose repeated, his gaze flicking over his shoulder as if something lurked in the growing darkness. “It’s urgent.”

Your brain struggled to catch up. Talking geese were not within the realm of your daily experiences. But something in his voice—a strange mix of urgency and exhaustion—made you hesitate only a moment before stepping aside.

Frank waddled inside, nodding in approval as you shut the door behind him. He took a quick, assessing look around the room before turning his keen eyes back to you.

“I need your help,” he said.

You crossed your arms. “With what, exactly?”

He let out a weary sigh, settling onto your rug like a goose who had seen too much. “They’re coming for me. The Society of Winged Shadows.”

You frowned. “The what?”

Frank fluffed his feathers impatiently. “No time to explain! Just know this—they don’t take kindly to defectors.”

Before you could ask him to clarify, a sudden gust of wind rattled the windows. The shadows outside stretched unnaturally long, slithering over the porch like living things. Then, from the darkness, a low, guttural honk sounded—a sound so deep and resonant it sent a shiver through your spine.

Frank tensed. “They’re here.”

The knock at the door was slow, deliberate. The kind of knock that knew you were inside.

Frank turned to you, his amber eyes filled with a strange mix of fear and determination.

“You let me in,” he said. “That means you’re involved now.”

The knock came again, harder this time. The porch creaked under the weight of something heavy.

Do you open the door