The eclipse shines up above us, the fake sun and the moon of the dungeon layering over one another as they spin around the ceiling. Intersecting beams of pale light shine out from the both of them, soaking the world below in a strange, mystical hue. Two great, radiant objects attached to the roof of the dungeon floor, as if we were on the stage of a theater. As if it were a mobile hanging above a baby’s crib. I look up to the shadowy face of the spinning moon above and it looks down to me, the great spherical rock pulsating, beating outward as if the cracked stone surface contained a beating heart just beneath the surface and there, dancing on the crumbling surface of the moon, I see her. It. Them. Whatever. I don’t know. I just know there’s someone dancing up on the moon.

 

“Bad!” says my new friend, a ripple pulsing through her body once with every beat of the moon’s heart, as she looks up to the lone figure, swaying back and forth so high up above, dancing as if they heard something we didn’t. Some melody that we can’t hear. As if…

 

I clench my fists.

 

“Bad,” hisses the slime-girl, retreating into my skull and looks out of the gaps in my cheekbones. I nod, turning to look away from the silhouette in the far distance above us.

 

Floor sixty-eight.

 

  Looking around, I look towards the many haunting trees that seem to sway in the gentle winds like the witch on the moon, but only ever in one direction. Only ever towards us. As if their bare, old, dusty branches were arms reaching slowly towards us, but only whenever we don’t look at them. My bones rattle, as something inside of me shakes as something outside of me creeps and crawls along the surface of the dark forest. A pale, cool wind that touches against me like a stroking hand. An icy, old dead-wind that runs its fingers along my body, like a cooing lover and I feel the thing inside of me quiver as the deathly aura comes to touch her as well.

 

  Moving forward, I push the dead-wind aside and look around the forest, following the path as I walk. I can’t rush here. There are many roads in this forest and many of them lead to bad places. The trees almost seem to move when I’m not watching them. I turn my head back forward, looking at the straight road I was just following. A large trunk obscures the path that wasn’t there before. Yet conveniently, there is a new road that leads off towards the right.

 

I shake my head.

 

  “Nice try, f-forest!” says a timid voice from inside of my breastplate and I nod, stepping over the tree-trunk and moving straight ahead. Nice try, forest. But it’s not the forest doing it. It’s her. The thing on the moon. The dead-wind laughs, not because anything funny happened, it’s just kind of a coy jerk is all.

 

We keep walking through the dark forest, the pale light of the fake moon shining above us illuminating the gnarled wood, filling it with a sickly, midnight luminescence that reminds me a lot of the zombie floor with the dead-light. I liked that one, it was a fun one.

 

“Shut up, Miika!” garbles the slime and I sigh. I miss Piotr.

 

Something rustles ahead of us and I stop, lifting my lance on guard as I scan the distance with narrow eyes. A bush shifts as something comes out of it. As -

 

I lift my lance, as the monk steps out of the bushes, the heavy blade of the weapon striking against the ground as I get ready for a fight. Even if I don’t want to. I’ll do it if I have to.

 

With clenched fists, she walks towards me. What’s that look for? Don’t give me that look. Don’t give me that look! What are those eyes?! Those fake eyes?!

 

“No-one here but me!” says the slime, realizing the same thing that I do.

 

I lift my lance and charge forward, cutting the monk in half.

 

Sort of.

 

  Turning back around, my skull cracking, I face the pale, paper-white backside of the entirely flat monk which flutters in half, falling to the ground. I watch as a moment later, the two-dimensional, paper copy of the monk is blown away by the wind, carried off into the forest. As if someone had drawn the monk from the front and animated that drawing to life, but had forgotten entirely to draw her backside. Which I am very familiar with.

 

Nice try, witch.

 

The dead-wind laughs as does the witch on the moon, dancing to the tune that only she can hear. That jerk.

 

Looking around, I scan the area for the road. Weren’t we just on it? The trees have reconverged while I wasn’t looking, changing their shapes and positions to make the forest look entirely different than it had only a second ago.

 

“Ribbit?” asks the wet voice.

 

  “Ribbit,” I nod and leap, grabbing hold of a tree and pulling myself up onto its crown to look out over the forest. As we breach the crowns of the trees and look out over the swaying dead-ocean. The light above shifts, as the witch on the moon changes something else in the forest. I look up towards the moon and I watch her watching me, as she continues on with her swaying motions.

 

“Jerk!” yells a wet voice and I nod, raising a fist towards the moon in agreement.

 

“Yeah! Jerk!”

 

  The dead-winds howl as they pick up speed, as they swirl and fly around the forest. The crowns of the trees rustle in agitation, as the wind picks up speed, carrying all manner of dust and dead leaves with it as it flies with a furious howl towards us. I duck back down below the tree-line as it surges overhead. As the whispering voice of the witch on the moon tells me one simple thing.

 

As the mystical voice of the haunting creature tells me this single truth. “No! You’re the jerk! Jerk!” shouts a distant voice from up above, down from the moon.

 

I lift my head back up above the trees and shout at the tiny silhouette standing on the moon. “No! You’re the jerk! Stupid!”

 

The witch on the moon stops dancing, shaking a fist at me. “No! You are! Dummy! Get off of my floor if you don’t like it!”

 

“No! You!” yells the slime.

 

“Yeah! Stop being a jerk and maybe I could get off your stupid floor faster!” I yell. “I don’t even want to be here!”

 

“If you don’t want to be here, then go away!” yells the witch on the moon, crossing her arms.

 

“I’m trying! If you’d stop being such a jerk I could leave faster!” I yell at her.

 

“Yeah!” bubbles the slime. I don’t even think she understands what’s happening, she just wants to be part of the conversation.

 

The witch on the moon turns away in a huff and turns her back to us.

 

Sighing, I drop back down into the forest that seems to have stopped changing and shifting around all of a sudden. Landing back down into the grass, I look towards the road that has opened up again and keep walking down it.

 

“Jerk! Jerk! Jerk!” yells the slime, bubbling around in my armor. “Stupid jerk! Idiot! I hate you!” she repeats, grabbing the memories from somewhere in my marrow.

 

I stop, listening to the words ringing out around me.

 

Ah, shit.

 

I leap back up to the top of the trees and look up to the moon. I have to be a good example, after all.

 

“Hey!” I call out. “Sorry, you’re right. I was being a jerk.”

 

The witch on the moon doesn’t turn around or uncross her arms, but she does look over her shoulder.

 

“I’m just stressed because of all this dungeon stuff, but that’s not an excuse for me to be rude. I really like your floor,” I tell her.

 

The witch on the moon doesn’t say anything, but nods once and turns back away. I drop back down to the forest below.

 

The slime in my armor bubbles curiously, as she watches everything I do, everything I say.

 

  Making a note to be a better example in the future, I follow the road down through the paper forest, sparing a glance for the fake trees made out of paper that always seem to quiver and waver just a little, as the dead-winds blow through them, reaching for me, whispering to me. Telling me that no matter how far I run, no matter how much I force myself to change, that maybe I’m just a dumb-jerk at the end of the day.

 

“Bad friend!” coos the slime and I nod.

 

Bad friend.

 

 

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