The fog here is so thick, you can barely see your own hand in front of your face. A foul layer of murky grime covers every tree, plant and stone. You fight just to draw breath in the heavy air.

Deeper in the valley the singing grows louder, and you realize it is not just one child, but a whole chorus of them. The song, like the twisted version of a nursery rhyme.

He is coming, won't be long.

Good children do right not wrong.

Tie a ribbon on the tr

Do not stray or run or flee.

See a shadow, hear the thud.

Hear the silence, see your blood.

Through the fog, you see two orange orbs in the distance. As you draw closer, you find they are a pair of iron-wrapped amber lanterns swaying above a post with two signs. Neither sign has anything written on it and each points in the opposite direction.

As you wonder which way to go, the children continue to sing the rhyme.