Something evil

After a moment of listening, Cypher heard nothing.

The store was completely silent. Even the street outside seemed strangely sparse, as if people were unconsciously avoiding it. The stillness was unnatural in that it was too complete, as though sound itself had been drained from the air. A distant wind whistled between the buildings, yet the tailor's shop remained untouched by it, like an island isolated from reality.

"It's best not to waste time," Cypher muttered.

With a single step forward, he entered the shop.

Almost immediately, the scent of rot grew stronger. It curled into his mask, thick and putrid, a stench that clung to the walls like something festering beneath the surface. If he hadn't been wearing his mask, his enhanced senses would have been overwhelmed.

Even as it was, the stench was suffocating, sharper than what he had endured in the cavern. This wasn't just the scent of decay, it was a clear signs of reality warping at a high level, higher even than Corydon or The Man in the Wall.

With a flick of a match, he lit the candle by the entrance. The flame flickered wildly, casting trembling shadows along the walls. The dim glow revealed the interior, and for a moment, Cypher simply stared.

"What...?" A strange chill tightened in his chest.

Coldness trickled down his spine, and a slow exhale of mist escaped from the vents in his mask, an unbidden response to the sudden drop in temperature. The atmosphere was thick with something heavy, a presence pressing down on him, coiling like a whisper at the edges of his perception.

He scanned the shop. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. Mannequins stood in neat rows, their faceless heads tilted slightly as though listening. They were adorned in the latest fashion trends, dressed in coats and tunics of fine tailoring, their unmoving forms unnervingly poised. Yet something about them felt... off. As if they had been positioned deliberately, with their faces tilted towards the entrance of more specifically him.

Drip... drip...

A faint, rhythmic sound reached his ears.

Looking down, Cypher noticed the pools of black liquid, scattered across the floor in uneven patches. The tar-like substance glistened under the candlelight, sluggishly spreading as though alive, creeping into the gaps between the floorboards like veins burrowing into flesh. Even as he watched, the puddles thickened, growing larger, pulsing as though they were feeding on the silence itself.

Why?

He looked closer, following the ripples across the surface. Droplets disturbed the pools at steady intervals, tiny impacts creating distorted rings. He craned his neck, his gaze tracing the source of the disturbance.

His eyes widened In astonishment.

From the ceiling, thick strands of tar dangled like grotesque tendrils, swaying ever so slightly despite the absence of a breeze. The entire oak-plank roofing was oozing, black ichor dripping down in slow, steady trails. It hung there, suspended between liquid and solid, as if waiting to descend upon whatever dared pass beneath.

Cypher clenched his jaw. He didn't have fond memories of this take, and he didn't want to be near it for longer than needed.

Bang!

A sudden crash from the floor above shattered the quiet. The sharp sound echoed through the hollowed-out silence, reverberating against the walls. Dust trembled from the ceiling. It was clear that Something - or someone - was up there.

Behind him, a voice like a deep, guttural whisper slithered through the air.

"Be careful, my child. Something has passed through here."

Cypher didn't turn. He didn't need to. The voice belonged to the Man in the Wall, his presence manifesting as a curling shadow at Cypher's back, its edges flickering like an oil spill catching the light. The dark forces at work within the shop had drawn his attention, and that was not a good sign.

"Passed through?" Cypher asked, his voice low. "What are you talking about?"

"I sense the same forces that tampered with Gabrielle's diary... have visited this place."

His shadow shifted, its gaze turning upward.

He looked not toward the floor above, but beyond the beyond the walls, beyond the city and beyond the fabric of human perceptions could see.

The air grew heavier as the silence stretched onwards, pressing down on the candle flame until it barely held on.

"I can hear something." The shadow's voice was distant and detached. "Not inside. Outside. Tapping. No... tapping on space itself."

Cypher narrowed his eyes. "You're not helping. Whatever it is, has it left this place?"

"For now, I believe it has moved on. But there is still danger lurking here, child. Be wary."

Cypher exhaled, slowly releasing the tension coiled in his muscles, "My first day as a Baron, and I need to deal with this?"

Sighing deeply, he dismissed the thought as his shadow distorted back to his image. Looking towards the backroom door that led upstairs, he straightened his back, regaining some confidence and walking forward with steady steps.

Black tar cling to his boots as he grasped the handle, the metal creaking as the door swung open.

Before him, a staircase with rotting yellow wallpapers moved upwards in a narrow ascending corridor. Loose steps moved up until it reached a sharp turn where the next set of stairs lay.

The smell.

Cypher coughed in disgust. Absolutely horrible, like maggots feasting on a rotting carcass. He had never been so repulsed in his life.

After some time, he got used to it. Placing one foot on the step, he prepared his ascent.

Only...there was a small, insignificant problem.

He paused immediately.

Cypher had an exhauster look on his face, exhaling with fatigue as he looked towards the top of the staircase.

Peeking just beyond the turn, half-hidden in the gloom, two stark red, meaty, skinless hands clung to the edge of the wall. Their fingers were long, unnatural - bony like knives that twitched, as if eager to dig into flesh. The hands were not alone.

Cradled within their grasp, nestled in the curve of the jagged fingers, were two bloodshot, bulging eyeballs - wet and glistening, their pupils pinpricks of black void.

Heavy, weighted and strained breathing could be heard from behind the corner, like a beast or a man who had just been exposed to the most toxic of chemicals.

The hands seemed to react to Cyphers precence, snapping the eyeballs in it's grip towards him, pointing as if to look at him.

Almost as soon as it did, Cypher flinched instinctively as a whisper crawled into his ear from right next to him. Bit as he turned, their was nothing there.

The thing at the top of the stairs seemed to communicate directly into his mind.

Then, deep yet childlike, it spoke in layers from beyond the corner.

"Have you§|..."

"Have you seenƤ|~`

"Have you seen my soul?"

Cypher grimaced. The way it spoke into his mind in that broken voice was a terrible sentensation. Like chalk against a blackboard it was unpleasant.

"I have not." Cypher spoke cautiously. He already had an idea of what this was. However, it was clearly intelligent, so he could use it.

"They to§∆`°"

"They took it§∆~`"

"They took it to a deep§∆..."

"They took it to a...to a..."

With a blade in his hand, Cypher opened his mouth once more, "Where did they take it."

"To a...

"To a Deep dark."

"DEEP DARK!" it's voice quaked in fear, frantic and scared. As if reminiscing on something, its meaty fingers trembled.

"°DEEP °DARK!"

The thing seemed to weep, horrified at it's own words.