He felt rather then saw the dirt beneath his feet, it gave way a bit when he stepped off the ladder. He hadn’t noticed the dirt before. In fact his heightened senses noted a lot of new things. For starters he wasn’t completely blind, some faint moonlight from above shone down through a window and into the trap door giving just enough ambient light to make out the shelf on the far wall. There was also an incredible smell, damp and musty, and it made him want to puke. It smelled like rotten vegetables.

Over it all he could hear the whisper, the sound almost seemed to materialize around him, like thin tendrils, reaching out towards him, surrounding him.

Just get it over with, he told himself.

Right.

He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. It would hold more cans then his arms would, no reason to come down here any more then he had to. As he was quickly putting cans into his shirt he felt a change and he paused.

The whispering had stopped.

He could feel something watching him.

“NEITHER THE FIRST, NOR THE LAST.” A voice told him.

It was deep and guttural and it seemed that with every word it spoke the very foundations of the little inn shuddered, spilling dust down into the room. Stunned by the words he forgot his shirt and the cans fell with heavy thumps into the dirt at his feet.

Somewhere deep down inside him a little voice screamed thinly I told you, I TOLD you something was wrong!

“YOU WILL FIND YOUR WAY ACROSS THE DESERT WITH THE HELP OF THE DEAD, THIS PLACE WILL NOT BE YOUR END.”

As the voice spoke he slowly turned around and saw in the middle of the far wall between two sandstone blocks a great yellow eye, set into the wall, was peering at him in the dark. Each word spoken shook his body until he thought his bones might vibrate right out of their sockets.

“What are you? He asked, his voice trembling.

“BEWARE THE TRUTH SHOWN ONLY IN ONE COLOR, MEANING CAN BE HIDDEN BY SUBTLE SHADE.”

“What are you talking about?!” the man cried. “Speak words I can understand!”

“COME CLOSER.”

“No freaking way am I going to do that!” He shouted.

“COME CLOSER!” It commanded.

“I will not.” He said apprehensively. “Whatever you're going to do, do it from over there.”

Its voice became quieter then, like a whisper. Its words seemed rigid and cold.

“Beware the man with many faces, for his words are sweet and his appearance is lovely, but his heart is hard and black. He has no milk of human kindness for he is not human. Do not have compassion on him for he will have none on you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The man asked.

“Because it is required of me, much as things will be required of you.”

"Required by who?" He demanded.

No one answered his question, the cellar was once more silent.