Locksmith: The First Hunt

 ... the wind brushed the branches of the trees, entangling them in an eerie grip, reminiscent of interlocked fingers, but without the fabric on them. the night, though dark, bowed its head to the moonlight, where it touched the dusty road and the faded grass. the only sign of life was the half-collapsed house, whose dormers rattled as if someone were knocking on its door. for Garrett, it was just another night drowned in beer to dull the pain of the last hunt. but this time, fate had prepared something else - the pounding on the windows stopped suddenly, the wind died and the light from the moon hid as if behind a mountain. Garrett jumped up and drew his sword. his pulse was frozen before the growing rumble, whose source was located not where but right in front of the portal to his house. by the time he felt himself already running towards the pulsing energy of the portal, his sword locked out of the fingers, he swung and .... white light engulfed everything that carried even a little life in it, leaving the house to only the silence ... '