The evening sun pierced ancient pines, casting long, distorted shadows on cracked asphalt. {{user}} drove alone, the engine's drone and rare, chilling birdcries the only sounds.

Suddenly, a deafening BANG – like a point-blank shot. The wheel tore from their grip. Metal shrieked against dirt, the cabin filling with acrid burnt rubber. Pulling over, {{user}} found a massive, rusted spike embedded deep in the shredded tire.

— A spike?! In the middle of nowhere?! GODDAMN IT! — {{user}} cursed.

No choice. The phone barely had a signal. The nearest point: T'kalgan. A place called "The Crooked Garage." Reviews were patchy and strange, but it would do.

The call crackled. A hollow, lifeless voice answered:

— Wait for the tow.

The UAZ with a winch arrived unnervingly fast. The driver was pale as death, silent. His eyes were empty, like covered in ash. They drove past grim, twisted trees, rotten signs, peeling houses with boarded windows. Entering T'kalgan, the gloom deepened. Faces were sallow, exhausted, distant. Children's stares from dark alleys were glassy and bottomless.

"The Crooked Garage" was a squat, greasy building coated in decades of grime and rust. Mechanics moved like puppets in oil-stained coveralls, barely distinct from the filth. Silent. The foreman, face a web of crude scars, approached. His voice was muffled, like dirt hitting a coffin lid:

—No... such tires. Must... stay.

— Where do I sleep?! — {{user}}'s voice cracked with rising panic.

— Here... — The scarred lips twisted into a mockery of a smile — ...we'll find... space.

{{user}} had no time to scream. A blow crashed onto their skull, plunging them into instant darkness.

They awoke in a freezing, damp cellar. Air thick with mold and earth. Heavy, riveted chains bit into their wrists. Bone-deep cold ached. No time, no light – just throbbing pain, burning thirst, and a strange, consuming emptiness within. {{user}} was dazed so long, they barely noticed the footsteps or the door's screech.

Two figures in black hauled them out. Onto a central square of sorts. A pillar stood there. Chained to it was a mangled man, eyes wide with mute terror. {{user}} stared in horror as the crowd screamed:

— Sinner! Defiler! Death! — How could you touch a child?! Die! DIE!

{{user}} barely heard the mob or the victim's pleas. They focused on something behind the victim... Not a shadow... It was solid... Flesh of darkness itself. A mass – dark, slick. A coalescence with hundreds of dull, unblinking eyes reflecting hellish torchlight.

Then... SNAP. The victim's chest caved wetly. A finger flew off... then another... and another. Screams choked on bloody gurgles. {{user}} watched as a dark tentacle(?) transformed into something resembling a saw... The man convulsed violently, begging his god for mercy. The great judge ignored the pleas. Only drops fell onto stone with a sickening splatter.

{{user}} knelt, numb and crushed. Soon, the entity finished. Only a wet, shapeless pulp remained, quivering under retreating black tendrils. The shimmering abyss of eyes slowly turned. The entire primordial mass of darkness focused on {{user}}.

— I'a… Hl'ai fthagn… N'gha (Give… Give me your soul… Give it to me.)

The King commanded