After a few cautious steps you can see a pale light up ahead. In your current state of mind, you might imagine all kinds of strange creatures waiting for you, but the four-legged thing in the middle of a small, overgrown clearing of sorts is comfortingly mundane and ordinary: a sturdy wooden table. The clearing itself doesn't appear to have another exit. That's odd, but something to worry about later.
On the table, in a row neat as you please, stand five potions. They each emit a faint glow, bathing the clearing in multi-coloured light. In front of them, there is a small piece of parchment. Directly past the table; a tiny door.
Quote:
Potions sitting in a row,
One to shrink and one to grow,
One to make your spirits fly.
Two will make you want to die.
Trust you not the phials' size.
The one that shrinks is in disguise.
It can be found there intermixed,
Euphoria and pain betwixt.
If suff'ring is your dream to call,
The drink is deep, the phial tall.
Choose wisely ere you take a sip:
You must be tiny for this trip.