A curtain of darkness wrapped around Black Earl, and he reflexively closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he found himself in a cramped stone room.
The room was dim, but not pitch-black. On the left wall was a wall sconce veiled by a white gauze curtain. The candle was still burning, and a few faint flickers of firelight seeped through the holes in the gauze.
By that scant glimmer, Black Earl could make out the furnishings around him.
A wooden rack piled with everyday necessities; a desk with several boxes on its surface; and where he was currently sitting—a wooden bed, its sheets in disarray.
The bed still retained some warmth. Clearly, he had been sleeping there not long ago.
No... not him. The lantern's owner had been sleeping here.
Black Earl knew very well that he was merely the lantern owner's past self within this memory. In other words, he was not Black Earl right now; he had "entered" the lantern owner's body within this memory.
Since there was no mirror or anything similar in the room, Black Earl could not clearly see the lantern owner's appearance. He reached out and felt his own face.
He wanted to construct the lantern owner's appearance in his mind through touch alone.
However, the instant Black Earl touched his cheek, he realized something was wrong. The lantern owner wore a half-mask over his face. Everything above his nose was covered by the mask; apart from holes for the eyes, it was completely sealed.
Black Earl tried to forcibly tear off the mask, only to be struck by a wave of excruciating pain.
The mask seemed branded onto the lantern owner's face, nearly fused with his flesh. It could not be pulled off at all.
Even if he did manage to