Warning

"DEEP DARK!" The thing at the top of the stairs cried out in anguish.

It was not a simple plea but as though it had seen the depths of hell with its own severed eyes.

However, this answer didn't satisfy Cypher, who was no longer wary of the creature. He now knew exactly what it was, and as such, had little fear toward it. What did give him apprehension, however, was what had taken its soul.

And so, he pressed further, letting one foot fall onto the first step in advance. "What is this 'DARK DARK' you speak of?"

"It... it... it... is a terrible place," the creature stuttered before taking on a more melodious tone, as if singing a blasphemous song, "Where universes go to die... §∆×~|... outside the bounds of praying eyes, they feast on life as they dine... ^°`§... where the servant is space and their waiter is time. In their name is Demonic Divine."

Cypher's foot creaked onto the second step. "I see."

"Would you... like to... know their names?" A creaky, groaning laughter echoed from around the corner.

Whoosh!

A dagger whizzed past and embedded itself into the wall.

The creature jolted. Its meaty, skinless hands retracted behind the wall. Beforehand, the stomping of inhuman-sized feet tremored in the walls. Finally, a door could be heard slamming from upstairs.

Cypher continued at a steady pace, slowly but steadily ascending the staircase. In his mind, he thought about the situation.

'If what it's told me is true, then whatever forces are at play may know if I learn their names.'

Reaching the bend in the corridor, he looked to where the creature had fled - another staircase leading to a door at the top.

'And this cannot be allowed. Forces that might have authority over time and space could very well already have their eyes on me.'

Taking the dagger out of the wall with a metallic pull, he watched as the dust fell from the area he had thrown the knife through.

'But so long as it's just me and this husk, it's nothing to worry about at the moment. From my estimates, it's just caliber one, so I can handle it.'

"Now then," he said aloud. "Time to find out what really happened here."

Cypher began his ascent up the next set of stairs.

After a few seconds, he reached the door, peeling away the rotten wood lining its surface while the handle lay a dark brown from rust. Beneath the door, Cypher noticed black tar pooled beneath the gap in the doorway, slightly dripping down the steps behind him.

With a tug, the door opened, revealing the inside of the single room to his gaze.

What lay inside was a sight among sights.

The medium-sized room was almost completely flooded with tar. It coated the plank flooring to ankle height, bubbling slightly from an unknown source.

Sagging, ruined garments like coats and dresses were pinned to the wall, likely from the shopkeeper's personal decorations, though they were stained with disgusting yellow and red liquids that ruined their luster.

On a leaning table, sewing equipment could be seen, alone as the only thing normal in the room.

What struck Cypher were two things.

He keenly noticed a hook on the roof, and on the hook lay what looked to be a man - or rather, the separated skin of a man - swaying like a carrier bag in wind that did not exist. It was grotesque in how the hollow skin suit appeared to watch him, even without any eyes on its face.

"The shopkeeper?" Cypher recognized him. "So that's who it is." He looked toward the corner of the room.

Weeping in the corner with its body turned away, a lanky, bony, and skinless creature hunched over, bathed in slight shadow, its red muscle fully exposed.

"Someone used alchemy on him," he muttered, moving forward into the space calmly.

Only, he stopped when he reached the center.

He could have sworn.

Turning his neck hesitantly, Cypher faced the far left wall.

On it appeared a drawing in crimson. It was of a figure, a figure so tall that whoever had made it had to make space by moving some of the picture onto the roof.

It was of some sort of person, a smiling, almost childlike depiction of a human. There were no features to adorn it, only a stretched-out, thin form with circular, simple eyes and a wide, round smile. Each limb was rough, as if cobbled together frantically, and the most noticeable thing was the spiked crown protruding from the thing's head.

"A silly children's drawing." Cypher dismissed it, turning around to face the husk that still cowered in the corner.

He prepared his knife for the attack.

°TAP~TAP~TAP°

Cypher's pupils dilated. His breath shuddered unnaturally as if he were a praying man caught in a bear trap.

A layer of cold frost instantly swept over the space, spreading a thin layer of white ice on every surface.

°TAP~TAP~TAP°

Something was behind him. The thought sent every cell in Cypher's body into overdrive. He felt rigid like stone, unmoving in fear.

Hairs stood on end with each passing second.

The tapping of something beyond was like shattering glass in his ears, and warm liquid trickled down his cheeks as he tried desperately to move.

Then, a girl's voice - no older than five years old - giggled behind him.

There was only one word to describe that sound.

Malevolent.

Only the deepest of evils could make that sound. A vile insult to life - no, it was anti-life to its deepest note.

"Breathe... you're in control," Cypher whispered to himself.

Using all his strength, he looked behind him.

Nothing.

No monster. No demon. Only silence.

Only, the drawing had disappeared, leaving only an empty, rotting wall in its wake - taking whatever was there with it.

For a few moments, Cypher stood still. He put his hand over his chest, trying to calm the wild beating of his heart.

He had felt like an ant. In fact, he felt so small that whatever was there could have simply wished for him to disappear, and it would be so. They wouldn't even need to lift a finger.

"Was... that a warning?" He tried to grasp why it had come. But he had no answer.

After a moment, Cypher regained his composure. He checked once more but found the same result - nothing there to hurt him.

The husk hadn't even moved, still weeping in the corner.

"I need to take my mind off if it." Cypher decided to not linger on the event any longer.

"Hmm?" Noticing something protruding from the black tar beneath the wall, Cypher moved and picked it up into his grasp.

It was a photo frame of the shopkeeper and a girl - an orange-haired girl.

"It was Clarrese, wasn't it."

Recalling her name, he found this to be suspicious. When he had first come to the shop, he didn't interrogate the girl for no reason. He wasn't fond of harassing people without cause, but he had another issue with her.

She reminded him of an actor - and a good one at that.

The way she moved, how she fell down the stairs at the perfect moment—it didn't fit with how people should act in this world. Clarrese had told him she had immigrated from Boreal, and since she was lower class - why did she seem so careful yet foolish?

Impossible.

Peasants should all be depressed and fearful, not naive and stupid.

"Speaking of her, where does she fit into all of this? I haven't seen the girl around here."