Luke felt his way down a dim hallway.  He stepped over one corpse after another, stumbling through the carnage.  He was alone.  Something sinister waited for him up ahead.  He wanted to run, but his legs kept moving him forward, driven by a mind of their own.  He came to an intersecting hallway.  His legs turned him to the right. A hand reached out from the darkness below grabbing his leg.  Luke jumped.  The face he saw beneath him pleaded for help.  No use.  Luke's legs kept moving him to some unknown destination darkly awaiting his arrival.
     A mordant mist suddenly flowed into the hallway from all directions.  Luke took five, maybe six steps, and then he could see no more than the width of his hand before his face.  He tripped over another body, but no, it was an old gnarled root of an ancient tree.  Luke moved his hands over the rough bark then pushed against it forcing himself to his feet.  He discovered that the mist had settled.  It now floated waist high in all directions.  Above him an old tree towered amid wisps of vapor drifting in a vacant sky set aglow within a green iridescence.  Mechanically his legs carried him toward the trunk of the tree.  There a green haze clung about a hideous monster poised at the mammoth trunk.  "You cannot defeat me," said a voice low and resonant.  "Better men than you have tried, but they are all dead."