It's a warm, long evening. The sun barely hangs in the sky, lacing the edges of the clouds in red and gold. A few moments ago, you heard a knock at your door. Now, you're sitting on your porch with a box in your lap, about the length of your forearm. You unwrap the brown butcher's paper, tear through the thin card, and pull the packing paper away.

Inside is a blue-black glass bottle. It's heavy, but only from the thickness of the glass. As you turn it over, nothing seems to move inside. It's stoppered with a wax-capped cork, stamped with a crescent moon. It buzzes faintly in your hands, asking to be opened.
Pull out the cork, and look into the bottle.