The bone-mask Overseer's body shook as the prayer ripped through him. His arms stretched too long, bones snapping and reshaping with wet cracks. The second mouth inside his throat widened until it split his chest, jagged teeth gnashing together as black drool poured down. His eyes rolled back white, and his voice came out as a guttural growl layered with a hundred whispers.
"The Maw… hungers…"
From his warped body, tendrils of shadow burst forth—long, twisted cords lined with teeth and claws. They whipped through the cavern, lashing at stone, tearing grooves into the floor. Each one pulsed like a living vein, dragging rot in its wake.
