Inside the forest, nothing moved. No breeze to shake the ancient trees' leaves or disturbing wind to stir the limb-like branches that protruded from the trees' stern trunks. The queerness and vastness of these sylvans would make anyone feel insignificant, for one could easily be lost in this pathless labyrinthine abode of nature. If one doesn't know where they should go or where their errand lies, they're assured to be lost in these seemingly boundless forests of never-ending growth. It was a place devoid of comfort; winter's freezing embrace is ever-present even when it's in the middle of the summer. The air, too, obscured the path and the trees beyond. Always hiding in the fog. Bulging there in the recesses of their eyes like a veiled tumor growing in the depths of one's organs. The heavy clouds fell upon them. Like, miasmatic mists that hung like airy shrouds in the still air above the forest's coarse ground. This is a place where the sun's heat doesn't reach the soil or the leaves, for the fog-like clouds above the trees almost acts like a barrier, a frightful one at that. Added to the horrific description of these glade-less forests were the faint hums in the unreachable and unknown distance. As if others who lost their way murmurs to comfort themselves amongst this serpentine place. Darion and Dismas, though, walked casually amongst the fogs and trees. As if this was one of their casual strolls or hunt — unbothered and unafraid of what lies beyond. Darion halted from his trudge as a faint phosphorescence — of what seems to be a flame from a torch or lantern — swollen beyond the thick fogs.
"Must be there," He whispered as he pointed out the feeble flickering of the unknown flame.
"Then let's go," Dismas replied before walking through the heavy fog.
And there it was, the shack-like wooden house. A house without windows or ventilation except for the decaying vine-crawled chimney that spewed uncanny smog that slowly melded with the obfuscating mists. Both entered this crumbling house within the deepest nook of the perennial forest — positive that the beast they sought festers inside its chambers. The vile smell of rot and wither wafted around the sweating claustrophobic-inducing walls, pestering their nose more than ever. The stench was so foul that even they could not stand its goading fume. Truly an indescribable malodor that even normal death could not produce. They covered their nose with their clothed hands, yet the stench pierced their nostrils still. This place was an absolute horror in the Dreamlands. Any poor sod who stumbled upon this dreadful scenery would surely wake up petrified, bathed in a pool of cold sweat. As the mists became thinned inside the house, the appearance of the walls, floors, and ceiling reveals itself. The eldritch walls — which surrounded them — started to unveil themselves. It was unmistakably flesh, the walls were flesh, or parts of it were. The crimson surface throbbed as the slimy liquid ran down upon them. The terrible sight made Dismas puked, and as the chunks of fetid fluid touched the rotting floors, a pulsating heart, encased in a crystal-like cast, manifested itself in front of them. It did not talk with articulation. The only unnatural thing about it was its existence. Yet when it hurried its beating, they knew danger was near. Suddenly, something emerged from the corner of the room, or perhaps it was there all along, hiding and stalking while gnawing on marrows and meats from a bizarre creature unknown to them. The description of this creature was unspeakable. Its eyes glimmer with not greed but contempt. It bears the face of a woman, but its body is far from a female. Sinews of flesh strung upon its contorted, exposed ribcage's bones. The unutterable horror in front of them exudes nothing but anger. Darion unsheathed his sword as Dismas hid behind him — shivering from the sight of the eldritch fiend.
"Stay back," Darion whispered to Dismas, calm even though the beast was slowly approaching them. Darion swung his sword, wounding the fiend. The fiend dived into the flesh walls, melding with it in a sort of grotesque transmutation.
"Are we say yet?" Dismas said, trembling from the overall aura and appearance of the house and the fiend.
"Keep your back off the walls, be watch it," Darion said before gazing upon the bones and flesh that the fiend was mercilessly gnashing.
The amalgamations of a creature's leftovers started to writhe as blood, flesh, and other remnants tended themselves together, slowly forming the visage of a mysterious naked man. The man looked healthy despite the macabre conversions of his body parts. He did not look stern or deprived of food. Yet fear his eyes and body — which he expressed through shivers and panic-riddled ogle — were disturbingly ample. He looked as if he had neither consumed any sustenance in his lifetime nor seen any light but the heart's bleached luminescence. The sight of the terrified man oddly calmed young Dismas.
"Who are you?" The naked man said.
"We are travelers from distant lands, and who might you be?"
"I-i don't know, I was... born here... that's all I could remember... but this is good!"
"Good? We's currently killing something that can't be killed. How's that good?" Darion asked, staring at the naked man before them.
"I know how to kill it! Just listen to its tale first. I'll tell you," The naked man said before sitting on the cold, dank floors of the humid wooden house. And both Darion and Dismas stood before this strange man, preparing to listen to the tale. The story of the undying man and the fiend of the Dreamlands.