The cave is cold, and you are afraid. But hush now, there is no need. We are in no danger.
You follow closely behind as the shadows deepen. There is a rusting, an ancient movement of fur and bone. He greets us.
"It's okay to die here," the black dog whispers. Old skulls and the worn smiles of spines lay at his feet. He is persistent. But we shall not accept his offer.
Walk past him. We walk toward the darkness. Toward the abyss.
"Only the lonely and the broken die here," I warn. "Don't listen to the dog. He's only trying to break you. And if you're with me, you won't be lonely."
I smile and step towards you. My eyes are gold, and my fingers drip with tar.
"Take my hand, and follow me..."