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I have realized, after having spent many hours in the dark, quite a few things. One is that this tunnel is not natural, and that by following it I will eventually find its creator. And that, two, many creatures live among the tunnels underground, whether the tunnels be man made, or not. Another thing I've discovered is that I have the ability to change my clothes at whim, simply by thinking of something, and wearing it. And, most importantly, that this voice insice my head knows more about me than I do. Too much more.

Rose walked down the tunnel silently. She had been listening to, for many hours, tapping upon a cave wall. She was not heading towards it on purpose, but the tunnel had few side paths, and she had so far followed the man-made tunnel. She just hoped the tapping was not the continuing effort to lengthen the tunnel, and that it did, eventually, lead back out of the mountain.

It had been a rough few days, and surprising. Upon learning that she could change clothes at will (and even some weaponry, of all things) she changed into warmer clothes. She didn't have much of a choice in color. Appartently, according to the voice in her head, she could change into anything that existed in her house on Gaia. Better than freezing at night, she wore what she had to.

But, she thought as she sliced at a green tentacle that raced toward her feet, this is concerning. She whipped out her demonbow- another goody from that store of items available to her- and fired one lighted shot followed by two regular arrows toward the man-eating plant nearby. She killed it quickly with those two shots, and quickly put out the light arrow, to keep her eyes adjusted. What was concerning was the vast amount of information the voice inside her head contained. And she had a very bad feeling she knew what that voice was.

But, she had also learned that her anger and pleasure at killing things was well spent in the dark tunnels, and because she felt great contentment in killing those would-be murderous and despicable creatures that called this place home, she refused to listen to the voice for the most part, and especially the reasonable possibility that that voice was, in truth, the real her. Instead, she lied to herself, that this rose, the niece of Luman and true demon, was the only one who could survive in the deep underground.

For days she went along like this. In denial of a basic truth, trying to find a way out of an underground cavern that would only force her to ponder this further, while she revelled in her expertise in extermination.
Thus Rose wandered, utterly lost in many ways.