The broken wooden monkey stared at me with its cracked glass eyes from the middle of the small footprints.
It wasn't just a toy that had fallen carelessly; it was a clear declaration, an encoded message from this cursed place telling me that I was no longer the hunter who sets the rules—I had become nothing more than a pawn walking across a board whose edges I could not see.
Slowly, and with caution no less than that of someone walking barefoot through an active minefield, I lifted my gaze from the dusty wooden floor and looked at the wooden door directly to my right.
The door where the child's footprints ended.
I tightened my grip on the handle of the "Forgotten Blade" in my right hand until my knuckles turned white, and slowly extended my left hand to push the decayed door.
Creeeeak…
