The creature stood tall—no, it loomed—a nightmare given form, its grotesque body scraping against the very laws of nature.
Over nine feet of skeletal terror, draped in writhing, semi-liquid shadows. Miasma bled from the cracks in its bones, seeping and curling with every twitch of its malformed limbs.
The ribs protruded outward like jagged spears, each laced with bone-threads that danced in the black air, twitching like they had a will of their own.
And its face?
There wasn't one.
Instead, its torso bore its gaze—a horrifying canvas of dozens of unblinking, iridescent eyes. Eyes that blinked in erratic patterns, spiraling pupils spinning.
Slitted ones widened and shrunk at random intervals. Each glowed faintly with a sickly purple hue.
That very abomination now lay dormant in the shadows of a dying oak, hidden beneath layers of fog and tree bark, watching… waiting.
Its many eyes twitched in place, shifting to observe the broken students that lingered around the camp ruins.
