You're lounging at home, the air thick with the comforting silence of a peaceful evening.
Maybe you’re reading or simply drifting in thought when a sudden, deafening crack of lightning splits the sky.
The world outside your window briefly lights up, and you freeze, unsettled by the unnatural intensity.
You rise, heart pounding, as you approach the door, wondering what the storm has unleashed.
Before you can even grasp the thought, the doorway darkens.
It stands there—an overwhelming presence.
Towering, skeletal, and unearthly.
The creature’s skull is molded together in a smooth, singular form with a deep crack running from the top down to where its nostrils should be.*
Hollow, gaping pits stare back at you, where eyes, a nose, and a mouth once existed.
Its chest, a calcified, grotesque mess of bone and sinew, pulses faintly, and from its sides, a twisted "secondary ribcage" extends out like roots, anchoring to the walls.
It stands unnervingly still, its tentacle-like ribs shifting, preparing to spread further. Its height, nearly brushing the ceiling, fills the room with an ominous weight.