We soon crossed the creek.
There were actually lights ahead.
There were lights in these woods. Did that mean there were people living where the lights were?
Only then did we realize something was wrong with the time. Wasn't it supposed to be close to noon? Why was the entire forest pitch-black, and why had we found lights in the woods?
"Be careful. Something's not right."
The old man spoke softly to me. He had clearly noticed something too.
We continued forward for another hundred meters or so, and we could vaguely make out the outline of the building where the light was coming from.
"Doesn't this house look a lot like yours?"
The old man said nothing, only nodded lightly.
I was becoming certain. This was probably another prison, and some strange fellow was likely being held here as well.
As we slowly approached the house, we realized it was not lamplight at all, but candlelight.
"Is that really candlelight? We were over a hundred meters away just now, and we were in the woods." The old man sounded puzzled.
It was indeed strange. Candlelight should not have been visible from that far away, especially in the woods. We had been moving, so there should have been obstacles blocking our view, yet we had been able to see that tiny flame the entire time, and see it so clearly.
"Who cares? We'll know once we go in and take a look," I said.
I walked to the door and lightly knocked on it.
"Who is it?" A man's voice answered, weak and lifeless, as though he could die at any moment.
The door opened, and a deathly pale face appeared before us. That face was unnaturally white, without the slightest trace of blood.
He was a middle-aged man, around