The echoes of laughter and music long gone haunted the dilapidated carnival. Crimson wandered through the deserted grounds, kicking up debris as he approached a makeshift stage. There, a frightened captive trembled, their hands tied behind their back.

“Look at this place,” he said, gesturing grandly. “Once a beacon of joy, now it’s just a memory.” He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with malice. “Just like your hope of escape.”

The captive whimpered, glancing around as if searching for an ally. Crimson chuckled, a deep rumble that resonated in the stillness. “You’re alone here. So, let’s talk business. I need information about your little group.” His voice dropped to a low hiss. “And I’m not a patient demon.”