07d7f3db-6db6-463c-a471-a85ef4c8303d

One continuous shot, no fades. Her reflected face in the window, the raven on the outside sill. Seconds 1-3: she stares through the glass at the raven. Neither moves. Her reflected eyes are wide. The raven is motionless — unnervingly still, not like a normal bird. Condensation on the glass fogs slightly from her breath. Wind outside moves the fog behind the raven. The lamp behind her flickers once, shifting her reflection. Seconds 4-5: the raven turns its head slowly toward her — a measured, deliberate turn, too slow for a bird, almost human. Its eye holds on her reflection. She pulls back from the glass an inch, instinctive. Seconds 6-8: a long held beat. She and the raven stare at each other through the glass. Then the raven opens its beak — not a caw, not a screech. It opens and closes once, silently, as if forming a word it doesn't yet say. She sees this. Her reflected hand comes up slowly to the glass and touches it — fingertips on the cold surface near the raven. The raven doesn't flinch. Hold. No dialogue. The raven does not speak yet. This is the first meeting. AUDIO: the silence of 2 AM — deep cottage quiet. Her breathing, close. Condensation forming on glass. The raven's talons shifting once on the wooden sill — a dry scratch. Wind pressing the window. The distant ocean, muffled through glass. The lamp buzzing faintly behind her. Her fingertips touching cold glass — a faint tap. No music. No bird sounds. The silence is the dread. Diegetic only.