Its form was tall, impossibly lean, bones bound tight by black silk that drank the light around it. Its robe shimmered with the color of absence — no hue, only the suggestion of darkness too deep to be named. Gold thread wove patterns of ancient heresy across its chest like veins.
A crown of bone and fractured gemstones sat atop its skull, each gem pulsing faintly in time with the rhythm of our breath. Its staff — gnarled, warped wood fused with ore from another realm — flickered with veins of molten mana, pulsing like magma beneath cracked earth.
And then…Its eyes opened. Twin remnants of a hatred that had not faded — even across timelines.
A chill crawled down my spine.
Noel stumbled back half a step. "W-What is that thing…?"
"Don't move," I said. Quiet. Measured. My eyes never left the Lich.
Its gaze swept over us like a verdict. No emotions. No words.
Just a presence.
One that told you: you do not belong here.
