Honour May is sleeping fitfuly, disturbed by the sound of the falling rain on her window, getting heavier and heavier. The wind rises, starts to howl and whistle and whip around the bones of the old house. The rain comes harder, more insistently, making the satin-clad damsel stir in her sleep. Barefoot, she sleeps in her long night-dress, it’s satin fabric draping seductively over her recumbant form. A flash- a roll of thunder. The storm is gathering around her, and the nightmare in the storm is peering in through the window. Something icy cold grasps her ankle. She screams as she finds herself locked in a fever dream of cold steel and chains and captivity, pulled out towards the raging thunder by the beast that dwells within the eye of the storm. A gag muffles her cry- not one of the other guests is aware of the drama unfolding in the Master bedroom! She fights to escape but the magical chains have that strange quality of nightmares, that she can never quite evade or escape or break free no matter how hard she tries….
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