Sanctum of Death

Your dreams are troubled and murky that night.

You are back in the caves, but now it is pitch-dark. All you know is that something is hunting you through the darkness. It is sniffing for your scent, racing on all fours through the maze of blind tunnels, and if it catches you, the worst thing in the world will happen to you. The tunnel you are in gets narrower and narrower, forcing you to bend down and then to wriggle on your belly as the cave ceiling inexorably lowers and lowers. You are putting your face and mouth against the cold, gritty rock and suddenly it is not rock but the moist, yielding fungus, forcing its way into your mouth, pressing clammily against your skin. You realize that you are merging with it, being absorbed by it, and suddenly you know that this, this transformation, is the worst thing in the world.

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