The cave's murky maw called to the shaman and the centipedes alike. Beneath the ageing man's ragged feet, cockroaches cracked and earwigs crunched. With the remnants of sticky creepy crawlies dangling from his bare heels, Do Mugu pressed into the darkness. Equipped with an even temper and a rare knowledge of the Underworld, Gum did not fear the unknown. After all, death gods and all the spirits of the earth, the rocks, the trees and the animals were his to converse with: few traps could snare his skin and bones.

With his palm splayed across a storied stone, the shaman opened his heart to the word. Just as the forest pygmies had forewarned, the stone corroborated: there was a demon within. Driven by his holy burden to protect the people of the Xangu Basin, he plunged into the horrible depths. The shaded forest light, dimming behind him, finally died. But the blackness was challenged by the birth of a strange glow ahead. "Fungus," he mouthed through his broad frown. And the sound of water! Gum do Mugu, a steward of Dheathain's Xangu Forest, felt the gentle warmth of life around him.

The narrow cave quickly widened.

Do Mugu had reached the cavern.

The challenge: to find the demon in the dim fungal light.