John stood still in the ring of light for a very long time.
The black vehicle had disappeared into the fog. The pathway opened by the lantern light had also gradually closed. Only the small lanterns planted in the ground remained, their pale yellow light struggling to hold back the gray-white fog that was quietly encircling them.
John lowered his head to look at the lantern on his side.
The flame within was still burning very steadily, but for some reason, he felt it seemed a little tired.
"Four Lamp-Bearers..."
John muttered, then smiled bitterly.
"Hopefully you all don't work the best horse I've ever seen to death."
The fog didn't answer him.
But right after, outside the ring of light came the sound of very light footsteps.
Not the footsteps of the living.
They were dry, brittle, cold, like bones knocking against the damp ground. John didn't immediately turn his head. He only breathed out a sigh, his expression as if he had already guessed who was coming.
