"We'll be out in no time," Maou said, caking on a thick layer of enthusiasm. He sounded too at ease. "It'll be getting lighter before ya know it."

As they trekked onward through the dense forest, it did not, in fact, get lighter before anyone knew anything. In fact, the darkness was static. No more light, no less. It was as if, rather than going down the spectrum toward white, they were pacing back and forth within its very opposite.

Maou ducked to avoid a familiar, rotting rope.

He ignored it. A bead of sweat inched down Maou's temple.