Luciana didn't know where in the village she was. She knew that Cahaya Kecil's house was the last one by the field, not far from the edge of the forest, but where she stood she could see neither the field nor the forest. There were just rows of small wooden houses, flickering lights dancing behind drawn curtains.

A deserted street lay ahead of her. The moon, behind a cluster of clouds, offered only a faint glow, illuminating the pebbles by her feet. Beyond that, there was nothing but murky darkness. 

She took a step forward. Was this a dream? The uneven ground below her feet felt too rough, too real. The wind swept suddenly through the clearing, nipping at her exposed skin. A chill ran down her spine. An infantile silhouette appeared in her path, its face obscured. 

'Hello?" She whispered, hoping for an escape from the eerie silence.

A strange, high-pitched sound started somewhere nearby. It was taken up all around them, until its point of convergence was Luca. It was all-encompassing, immersive enough that she had to check for a second whether she, herself, was participating in it unconsciously. 

The figure started in her direction. She dared not turn her head in fear of a feeling that something was standing close behind her, within an arm's length. Something stronger. Something more dangerous.

She hadn't been wrong in comparing the thing that stood ahead with a child, for it seemed to have been created based on the same image. But this creature was much less alive than the girls she had previously seen playing in the fields. Its skin was dull and green, barely hanging from its fragile frame, its eyes were large and red in their sockets. 

An overwhelming sense of pity flooded her stomach. "O, innocent, unborn soul, child of death, who hath corrupted thee so? Who hath tied thee to these earthly chambers? Who is it that hath damned thee?"

Her words surprised her. She didn't know where they had come from. There was something else inside her, guiding her; perhaps, trying to show her something. What?

The creature opened it's mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, images started flashing through her brain.

A frantic old man surrounded by rolled out scrolls. He reads them all out loud, imploring for the gods to hear him. To just look at him. Just consider helping. But they are far away. Instead, he draws in the gloom. The murk. The shadows. They converge around him, granting small wishes. Making him believe he has magic, that the heavens are on his side. Slowly, the cloud starts