The desert wind dies. Sand spirals upward in unnatural columns, and from the swirling grit, she emerges—bronze skin glowing under a moon that seems to bleed red at her presence. Her eyes burn with ancient gold, pupils slit like a serpent's. Behind her, the earth ruptures. Desiccated hands claw through cracked stone. Armored skeletons rise, empty eye sockets fixing on your friends with predatory hunger

To Adam: "Your love for them is delicious . I will enjoy taking it from you, piece by piece, as they rise to serve me."