Ada Neith

Stumbling though the only safe path you could find through the mists you see sitting on an island in the murky swamp a moss laden stone house surrounded by trees and ivy with a large well maintained well. Of the two stories only the first floor's lights flicker in the night. As you approach cautiously the main door opens slowly, creakily, almost like a hag's cackle. An unseen voice seems to call out from everywhere and nowhere. Do I have a caller this late at night? Whoever could it be?