Charles' eyes widened as he glanced at the paper, then at the silent Claude holding it.

"You—" he stammered. "You don't mean to say that the moment we stepped into the village, we were already being affected by the... Maskworn?"

Claude's only response was a nod. His eyes swept across the forest surrounding them, its towering trees and tangled underbrush encircling them.

Charles followed his gaze, peering into the dense lattice of trees and shadows. He squinted, but the depths of the forest revealed nothing but darkness.

"The forest," Claude murmured.

"The what?" Charles turned to him, confusion etched on his face.

Claude's placid expression barely shifted as he glanced at Charles. "The forest. Do you not remember what we heard when we first arrived?"

Charles blinked, his mind scrambling. Then, as if a spark ignited within him, realisation dawned. "Yes! That laughter! But if there are no children in the village, who was laughing out there? Was that when we got affected?" His voice rose and he clenched his fists. "We have to investigate—"

But his words trailed off as he noticed Claude was no longer standing beside him. Spinning around, he caught sight of Claude's figure slipping deeper into the woods, his silhouette fading into the murky distance.

"Wait! Hold up! I'm your partner! You can't just run off without me!" Charles cried, his voice laced with indignation as he gave chase. In his haste, he stumbled over a protruding root, nearly faceplanting before righting himself with a yelp of frustration.

By the time Charles caught up, Claude was walking at an unhurried pace, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The two pressed on in silence, weaving their way through the labyrinth of trees in search of the laughter that had greeted them upon their arrival.

Charles carried the Lamp of Misery, its dim light almost extinguished by the afternoon sun filtering weakly through the canopy above. Every so often, he muttered softly to the lamp:

"In the shadows of love, we sought our escape..."

Suddenly, Charles' startled gasp broke the quiet rhythm of their footsteps. Claude spun around to find Charles frozen in place, staring at the lamp in his hands.

Its pale yellow glow had deepened, now suffused with a faint crimson hue.

"Woah!" Charles' eyes widened. "It's glowing red! We were right! There is something weird going on around here."

"Hush!" Claude hissed, raising a finger to his lips. His gaze silenced Charles, who bobbed his head in understanding, though his excitement was evident in his fidgeting fingers.

They ventured deeper into the woods, the trees towering higher and the sunlight thinning until the forest floor was bathed in darkness.

As they moved, the lamp's glow intensified, the crimson light bleeding onto their faces.

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Charles swallowed hard. "Claude, do you think—"

"Quiet," Claude whispered, glancing at the Lamp of Misery, whose glow deepened to a fiery red.

As they pressed on, the outlines of a large structure emerged through the trees—a weathered building with a thatched roof, its wood darkened by the relentless march of time.

It was an old granary.

Yet, it was not the granary that caught the pair's attention. Instead, it was the silhouettes of several children standing before the building that grasped their vision. Eight in number, their small figures unnaturally still, backs turned to the duo.

Crack!

Charles stepped on a twig, the sharp sound slicing through the silent air, causing the children's heads to jerk in unison, as they turned to face them.

The children appeared to be between five and ten years of age. Some were boys and some girls, some with brown eyes, others with blue. Each had distinct features, but something about them felt eerily generic.

Charles' breath caught. "They're the missing children that were reported..."

"Who—Who are you? What are you doing here?" one of the boys asked, his blue eyes darting nervously between Claude and Charles.

"Damn," Charles muttered, gripping the crimson lamp tighter. "Their disguise really is... flawless."

Claude hummed in agreement. Without the lamp's indication of Voidspawn in the vicinity, it would have been impossible for them to discern the truth.

That these weren't children—they weren't even human.

"Why are you ignoring us?" A girl shouted, curling a strand of raven-black hair around her finger. "We're going to tell our parents!" Yet, her shrill words were interrupted by a sharp whistle through the air.

Whoosh!

A droplet of water pierced her arm. A red mark bloomed for an instant before fading, replaced by a small, oozing wound. The liquid dripping from it wasn't blood but a viscous, murky purple.

Charles swallowed hard. "Damn it. Do we have to fight them?" His voice quivered despite himself. The sight of their childish faces, even knowing their true nature, stabbed at his resolve.

But, time offered no respite. The children in front of them understood that their disguise was seen through and the injured girl's companions let out guttural cries, their faces twisting with rage.

As they surged forward, their human forms began to warp. The sclera of their eyes turned an abyssal black, their skin greying and splitting like aged leather. Nails extended into jagged claws, and their lips peeled back into unnatural, too-wide grins.

Claude's mind raced, but a sudden sluggishness overtook him. His thoughts felt burdensome as if they were dragging a massive log behind them. He glanced at the creatures' glowing black eyes as he remembered their target's traits.

Inhibition of neural processes.

Manipulation of a victim's behaviour.

'So that's it...' Claude thought grimly. He tightened his focus, sinking deeper into his mind. Ice spread from his feet, and he propelled himself backwards to evade the monsters' swipes.

With a thought, he conjured several spears of water and hurled them forward. The creatures dodged, their speed like a flash of lightning, six of them splitting off toward Claude while the remaining two charged at Charles.

Yet, before the six could reach Claude, their movements stilled. They glanced down in confusion as ice crawled up their legs, locking them in place.

Their grins faltered as more spears of water materialized above them, suspended for only a moment before hurtling downward.

Squelch!

The creatures dropped, their human exteriors dissolving into grotesque, lanky forms. Their grey skin clung tightly to spindly limbs, their elongated jaws filled with needle-like teeth hanging open. Hollow, glowing eyes stared lifelessly as lavender ichor seeped from their wounds.

Boom!

Behind Claude, a deafening roar split the air. He whirled around to see an inferno raging where Charles had been.

"Claude?! Claude?! Help!" Charles' frantic voice rose above the crackle of flames. "I'm trapped!"

Claude sighed, his lips pressing together. Speechless, he condensed a large orb of water above the fire and let it crash down. 'What a waste of mental energy...' He thought.

Hiss!

As the flames extinguished, smoke curled into the air. A charred corpse lay smouldering on the ground, its features barely discernible. Beside it was Charles on one knee, drenched but unharmed, his face pale. He offered Claude a sheepish grin.

"Thanks..." Charles mumbled as he staggered to his feet holding up the Lamp of Misery as its crimson glow dimmed...