On a breezy, red-hued summer afternoon.

Warm light spread over a small, insignificant town at the edge of a pitch-black shore, heralding the near end of yet another peaceful day.

Common workers headed home in public, horse-drawn carriages from the nearby fish-processing facility. Others, slightly more affluent, rode brass-made vehicles powered by pearl-colored gemstones, their dedicated road patterned by street lamps with the same workings.

Preparations for the night were in full sprawl as local taverns slowly filled, mummers set up their stages in the main square, and stalls opened for the seekers of late delights.

It was a festive occasion, for the sunset would soon mark the second century of this town's existence.

A bit further from the growing bustle, a group of children were playing on the dark sands typical of this region. The oldest of them was barely in her teenage years, leading two younger boys through rows of piled stones in a rough attempt at a royal procession.

"And that's how the Iaoxi princesses do it! It's awesome, isn't it? They're so elegant."

One of the boys beamed. "Did you go to Iaoxan, Marie?"

"Of course not!" She twirled a long stick as if it were a cane, mimicking a refined posture. "I went to Noirsacre with Papa during his business trip. Outside the station, we saw a bunch of scary-looking people walking in sync around a beautiful woman. Later, he told me it was an imperial retinue."

"You're so lucky!" The boy's eyes were glistening. "Auntie surprised me with a vacation for next week. We'll be taking an airship, hehe. I hope I'll get to see a real princess there, too."

Marie nodded to herself. "Good. Good. One day, I'll marry one of you, so you must strive to become cultured. Mama told me well-traveled men are often the most sophisticated, and they make the best husbands!"

The second boy slumped down his head, dragging his feet behind his two friends.

"I guess I've already lost, then..."

Marie noticed the change in his demeanor, though she was more concerned by the fact that he no longer matched their steps.

"What's the matter, Charles? If you lag behind like this, you'll never make it as a princess' escort, much less a spouse."

"But it's decided, isn't it?" Charles raised his gaze, tears sliding down his plump cheeks. "My parents are dead, and Grandma can't afford to take me on vacations. I'm poor and not worthy of a princess. Jean is obviously the better match—"

His sentence was cut short by a blur as Marie swept the air with her stick. "You're wrong! So wrong! Doesn't your Grandma make the best fish pie in town?"

"Uh..." Charles seemed confused. "She does."

She stuck her chest out. "I absolutely love pies! If you learn her recipe, you might actually come out ahead of Jean by a few points."

"Eeeeeh?" Jean's expression shifted into a grimace, protesting, "But my Auntie doesn't know how to cook pies!"

"In that case, we have a clear winner."

She flashed a grin at Charles, who quickly wiped his tears, smiling in turn.

Jean wasn't so pleased. "W—Wait, I'll learn how to cook the best pies in the region!"

"Never. My Grandma's are unmatched."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Moron. How do you know? You never went out of town!"

Charles frowned. "I just know, idiot. They're that delicious."

Marie sat on a flat rock as her companions bickered, enjoying their passion with a satisfied chuckle.

She glanced at the ebbing tide, its soothing ripples, and the gorgeous twilight that covered the dreadful, grayish tinge of its waters. She smelled the salty gusts, felt their comforting caress in the summer heat, and soon knew...

She was content.

If only this moment could last for an eternity, she would be happy.

Clink.

It was a faint sound at first, almost inaudible amidst Jean and Charles' dispute. Yet, she picked it up with an odd sense of apprehension—a creeping uneasiness with no source other than pure, primal instinct.

She looked up, realizing that at some point, a black "square" had formed in the sky.

Chills immediately ran down her spine, but she couldn't understand why.

Perhaps it was because of its shape? It seemed more like a hole than an object, but how could it exist without a surface? Did her teachers lie to her? Was there a secret to the sky that she wasn't aware of?

Obscure questions and far-fetched conclusions drowned her mind in incomprehension, which left her frozen as another phenomenon occurred.

Something slid out of the square-shaped "hole."

It was a ladder. A normal-looking, albeit bizarrely long, wooden ladder.

"Hey! What's that?"

The boys cautiously approached its legs as they softly landed on the beach, a few feet from a befuddled Marie.

"Don't get close!" She blurted out, shaking in spite of herself. "Huh? Why am I... trembling?"

The idyllic atmosphere she had been previously indulging in had all but disappeared. A cold wind bit her in cruel, short bursts, and the world around them lost its pleasant luster to a strange, unfathomable pressure.

Perhaps still attuned to their childish curiosity, Jean and Charles were far less affected by the otherworldly display. Nonetheless, seeing the panic in the eyes of the oldest among them was enough to sound a warning bell in their minds.

This ladder is scary.

"I want to travel," Charles said suddenly.

No, that wasn't Charles, for he was as surprised as everyone else by the echo of these words.

"I want to marry Marie," the voice of not-Charles resounded again.

It came from behind the ladder, in a corner from which their eyes had been forcibly drawn away without their awareness.

"It" had a faceless head and a featureless body, vaguely resembling the blank silhouette of a white-painted child. "It" lacked a torso and proper limbs, its cranium held up by two pairs of spindly arms, not unlike a spider's appendages.

"I want to bake fish pies," it spoke once more, though it had no mouth.

Marie didn't even have the reflex to scream.

Shock clogged her throat as Charles' body imploded into a grisly mush, staining the pristine sand with a crimson scar. There had been no cry nor groan—only a flash of red, parting akin to a curtain for this waking nightmare.

Jean's legs buckled as he threw up his lunch, half his face hidden beneath the blood of his childhood friend. The wafting scent of gore accentuated his nausea, and his viscera churned with so much strength that he could barely breathe.

The mound of flesh rose in a morbid swirl towards the faceless "thing," piling upon its frame and sculpting a new form.

In less than a second, it sported the appearance of Charles, with his plump cheeks, round eyes, and a tuft of light brown hair.

"It" turned towards Jean, gazing upon him with such an authentic expression that no one would believe it to be fake.

"I want want to play with Charles," it uttered. "I want to play with Marie."

The boy's life seemed to flash before his eyes as they lost their glimmer, granting him the mercy of oblivion moments before he exploded into a gruesome pulp.

The same ritual repeated, covering the "thing" with the splattered matter as it stole its victim's traits.

Marie's heartbeat accelerated, prompting her to back down as Jean's blue glare sized her with the chilling indifference of a predator locking onto its prey.

"I want to become a princess," it declared.

"No." Tears streamed down the little girl's face. "No, please, no! Mama! Papa! Please, help me!"

"I want to marry...—"

SPLAT.