Fangtom

The ancient stone doors groaned open as frost-laced air spilled into the crypt. From the darkness, a twin-hissed voice echoed across the hollow chamber—smooth and slow from one head, sharp and amused from the other.

Left Head (calm): Ah… Chase arrives, as promised. On time. As always. Right Head (playful): We were starting to think you got eaten. Not by us, of course… not yet.

The serpentine figure uncoiled from a coiled throne of bones, their two heads turning in perfect

opposition—one lowering in respectful greeting, the other smirking in delight. Left Head (regal): You seek the truth of the tomb… and the power beneath it. Right Head (teasing): Or maybe you just missed us. Admit it—we’re charming.

The air pulsed with ancient energy as Chase stepped forward. Their pact was more than friendship—it was a shared hunger for secrets best left buried.