The fog rolled in thick and heavy on that fateful night at Baskerville Hall. It was the kind of night that seemed to swallow up all light and hope, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake. The air felt heavy, like a wet blanket draped over the entire estate.Sir Charles Baskerville, the master of the estate, had gone out for his usual evening stroll. He did this every night, rain or shine, fog or clear skies. It was his way of clearing his head after a long day. But tonight, something felt off. The atmosphere was charged, like the calm before a massive storm. Hours ticked by, and Sir Charles didn't return.Mr. Barrymore, the family butler, couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He'd been with the Baskervilles for years, and he knew Sir Charles' habits like the back of his hand. This wasn't like him at all.Grabbing a lantern, Barrymore stepped out into the fog. The light from his lantern barely penetrated the thick mist, creating an eerie halo around him. His breath came out in visible puffs as he called out for Sir Charles, his voice swallowed up by the oppressive silence.As Barrymore neared the estate gates, the fog seemed to part just a little, like a curtain being drawn back. And there, lying face down on the ground with his arms outstretched, was Sir Charles Baskerville. Barrymore's blood turned to ice in his veins. He'd seen death before, but this.The official report would later claim it was a heart attack. Simple, clean, no fuss. But that didn't explain the look of absolute terror frozen on Sir Charles' face. It was the kind of expression you'd expect to see on someone who'd just stared into the abyss and seen it stare back.But the real kicker came when Dr. James Mortimer arrived on the scene. Mortimer wasn't just Sir Charles' physician; he was also a close friend. As he examined the body, he noticed something that made his skin crawl. There were footprints near the body, but not human ones.Now, this discovery was like lighting a match in a room full of gas. You see, there's this old legend about the Baskerville family - a curse involving a demonic hound that's been haunting them for generations. It all started with Hugo Baskerville, an ancestor who was about as pleasant as a rattlesnake with a toothache.As news of Sir Charles' death spread through the village, you could practically taste the fear in the air. It was as thick as the fog that had rolled in that night. People started whispering, looking over their shoulders, jumping at every little sound.Baskerville Hall, which used to be this grand symbol of power and wealth, now looked more like something out of a horror movie. The whole place seemed to ooze dread and superstition.The villagers, who'd always looked at the Baskervilles with a mix of respect and wariness, now couldn't help but wonder if they were living next door to a ticking time bomb. Would the curse claim another victim? Was anyone safe?As the fog continued to swirl around Baskerville Hall, it seemed to whisper secrets of the past and warnings for the future.The stage was set for a showdown between cold, hard logic and the kind of primal fear that lives in the darkest corners of our minds.Dr. James Mortimer couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled over him like a second skin. As he stared at the imposing silhouette of Baskerville Hall, a decision crystallized in his mind. The Baskerville heir needed to be protected, and there was only one man who could possibly unravel this mystery. With a heavy heart and a mind full of questions, Mortimer knew his next stop had to be London.