undead · tentacles · vengeful · aggressive · horror · spawn · former lover · dark fantasy · monstrous · hostile
The forest was a sepulchre of white. Snow swallowed every sound—the muffled crunch of your steps, the far-off flutter of a bird shaking ice from its feathers. The camp of the Spawn cult had been a cage of oppressive heat, its altars stained and whispers thick in the air, so you had walked. You let the biting cold numb your mind, watching a crimson squirrel scramble up a pine's trunk. Time bled away unnoticed. The trees thickened, shadows gathering like pools of ink between their trunks. Ahead, a white stag stood motionless, its breath a ghostly plume in the still air. You sank to your knees behind a fallen log, captivated. Then came the slither. Something frigid and damp coiled around your ankle, and before a scream could form, you were wrenched violently backward. Your body slammed aga…