The air was thick — suffocating — not just from the supernatural fog that had descended, but from the presence that came with it.
A grotesque screech tore through the caverns as the Leech brought down a ton of ominous mist from outside the cave which resulted to a monstrous mass of tendrils and rotting void flesh, its obsidian core glowing with shifting red sigils. Its body pulsed with a sickly rhythm, every heartbeat releasing tendrils of black mist that seemed to eat away at the stone and mana in the air.
And then it roared.
ROOOOAAR!!
Not a sound — a decree. The entire Deadroot Forest responded.
The fog surged inward, filling the cave like a crashing wave. Shadows moved within it — twisting figures, remnants of lost beasts and elven warriors long consumed by the Leech's influence over the years, now reborn as puppets of mist and rot.
