“Now where’s that blasted woman!” The Keepers’ henchman jumped up to scan their surroundings; his face contorted to looking like a toddler tricked into tasting a lemon. Seth likewise couldn’t help to raise a brow at what truly was the most humble of humble abodes.
A lonely staircase resided against the wall opposite of the front door (rather, where the front door used to be). Worn yellow (or yellowed) wallpaper with vertical rows bathed in a nauseating hue of pink covered all the other walls. A narrow door that appeared to be made of a bleached out version of the staircase’s wood signified the potential presence of a closet. The living room, for lack of better word, contained not a single furnishing aside from the large throw rug covering a section of an otherwise barren wood floor. Seth pouted at the depressing, once burgundy rug, which bore a bright yellow border on one end that faded to a sallow white matching the color of his own zombie skin by the time it reached the other side. If not for a few meager flames lapping at a pot in the fireplace, this house would seem to have been otherwise long deserted and forgotten about. But how did this tattered wreck of a home they stood in manage to light up the night woods as though it were a gargantuan lantern?