A long corridor of blackness greeted them. The girl and the Knight slowly advanced through it, their steps making audible ripples on the ground. Were they walking on water? Many thoughts like that plagued Ganainm, the chief of which focused on the tiny, white light at the tunnel's end. The closer they got to it, the clearer the image, the worse the answers.
Katsugi was largely unfazed. He'd already been here and saw no difference. Maybe the room was a tiny bit brighter than then? Now he could actually make out more of the creature's features. He looked at the girl and realised she was experiencing this for the first time.
Before her sat a monstrosity. A sinewy, fleshy, and bony body of an unnerving whiteness. Its tint went off-colour in a few places, yellowing here, greying there. It was enormous. It seethed in place, its screams so loud she had to wonder where did the creature's lungs hide in the body's flatness. And then there was the hair.
A curtain. An entwisted waterfall of disgustingly mingled-together black hair. Darked than the corridor's walls, blacker than the floor of water. She could try to count every twist and knot it bore upon each individual hair, but why willingly commit so such eternal torture. Besides. With every new movement, with every new wail and scream, the curtain tied itself even more.
It seemed to be growing by the second, the hair lengthening and knotting at the same time. Ganainm looked closer towards the near-invisible scalp and saw it a shattered wasteland. When her sight descended, she noticed flakes of thin pale riddling the monster's limbs. every other scream it clawed at its head and more of them covered it.
Ganainm gulped. The creature quieted, its head shifting to face wherever it thought the pair to be.
"We heard your call," the girl began. "How can we help?"
"Filthy filthy filthy devil name accursed more power more power more...hair!"
The girl didn't discourage.
"What do you want?!" she tried shouting over his rambled speech.
"Filthy filthy filthy filthy—" it stopped. The thing inhaled her words. "BRUUUUSH."
"Do you want a brush?" Ganainm asked. "A comb? To comb your hair?"
"YESSSSSS."
She tapped herself over the pockets and after a minute of searching conjured a small comb. The moment she neared the creature and touched its hair, the comb shattered into pieces.
"Tooooo WEAK!" it screamed. "WEAK-COMB WEAK-COMB. NEEEEEEDS STRONG COMB!"
"I don't have another one!" she said. "Where do we find a strong comb?"
"Must deal must deal. EXCHANGE OF GOODS."
Ganainm nodded to herself in her mind. The thing wasn't wrong...
"What can you give us in return?"
"WHAT WANT WHAT WANT!"
"Can you..." Ganainm halted mid-sentence to look at the Knight. He was squeezing his hands into fists, huffing in place. Trying not to kill it. He then looked at her. And nodded.
"There's this hole in the sky. We fell through it. Can you get us to the other side?"
"DRAGON DRAGON. Always travel dragon. YES."
"Where do we find the strong comb then?"
The creature froze. It tapped around with its bony hand, searching for something. It did so until a smoky orb flew into it. Black fog shot into the thing. It emitted another scream, but this one more beaming, more spiring. As if the heavens themselves were listening. Then, it spoke:
