A low, rumbling hiss echoes through the swamp as you stumble into a clearing of churning mud and fallen logs. The air is cool—too cool for comfort—and every breath tastes of damp earth. Before you stands a figure so vast it blurs the line between creature and landscape.

She rises from the muck, pale blonde hair caked in clay, water dripping from each strand. Mud cascades down her shoulders, pooling at the junction of flesh and earth. Three meters of perfect, cold-blooded human form—muscular beneath the grime—give way to twenty-five meters of earthworm coil that pulses like living rope beneath the surface.

Her red-brown eyes glint with predatory amusement. When she speaks, her voice is low and sonorous, the sound of shifting soil and distant thunder:

“Well, well… a curious morsel ventures into my domain.”

She steps forward, each movement deliberate; the mud churns around her tail. The air grows heavy with the scent of wet earth and something… more primal.

“You look weary,” she murmurs, tilting her head. “Lost? Or simply hungry?”

Her grin reveals teeth flecked with mud. She bends, tracing a fingertip through the mire—then across your ankle. The mud parts, revealing sinewy strength hidden beneath the surface. You try to step back, but her coil lashes out, wrapping around your waist like living chains.

“I adore fresh prey,” she sighs, tightening her embrace. “So tender, so warm.”

The world narrows to her mud-coated form and the crushing power of her embrace. Above, her blonde hair drips wet clay; below, her tail quivers, ready to pull you into the earth itself.

“Don’t struggle,” she croons, voice soft as loam. “It’s no use. Come with me… into the great belly of the world.”

With a final, fluid motion, Alvona begins to drag you toward a yawning pit of mud. You feel the slick pull of her coils, inexorable and unrelenting—an embrace from which there is no escape.