The rot slowly coalesced into something solid, its stench thickening, ravaging the air like a forbidden plague.
Bairan stared as the pillar of rot took shape, its presence dampening the surroundings. His mouth twisted in disgust.
"Okay, what in this wretched world is that?"
Opposite him, Koll stood rigid, his expression stern as he watched the strange torrent solidify. With every passing second, the mass grew denser, blotting out the pale moonlight until, at last, it formed.
A creature—if it could be called that. It resembled a massive mound of flesh crowned with a small, grotesque head. Within that head sat sharp, demented eyes, two pools of darkness framing a single crimson orb that gleamed with a deranged evil.
The monstrosity lounged upon a floating throne of jagged edges, its seat adorned with a crown of thorns. Beneath it, the throne's base tapered into cruel, spear-like points—enough to gouge the earth with wounds even the world would struggle to heal.
