The demon has a name.

Zervon. Ancient. Heescient. Hungry. For 30 years it waited, dormant,

dormant, within the charred fragments of a spirit board, sealed inside an Advent calendar

built by hands it had already corrupted. Now it waits no longer.

Detective Davenport lies dead.

His head twisted completely around.

Punishment for a door Matthew failed to open while lying in a hospital bed.

The demon's rules are absolute.

Its memory is long, and its retribution knows no statute

of limitations. Logan has been freed from Zervon's grip, but the cost of that liberation

remains to be seen. The demon does not relinquish its vessels willingly. It does not

forgive, and it does not forget. Father Olson warned that when a host is lost,

Zervon will seek another, someone close, someone vulnerable. The question now is not whether

the demon will strike again, but who it will claim next. Wilbur Ward's decayed corpse was discovered in Mason's closet.

Pastor Hart fled Matthew's home, drenched in blood, screaming that he could not help.

The calendar sits open beside the fireplace, its carved, bearded face, watching with hollow

eyeless patience.

21 doors have been opened. 21 horrors unleashed.

Tomorrow is December 22nd.

Three days remain until Christmas Eve, the climax of Zervon's ancient midwinter celebration,

the anniversary of the night the Norris house burned and Matthew ran

while his family screamed. Everything comes full circle, the demon declared. A 10-year-old boy

...