Liora's breath caught mid-thought, her spine locking as the temperature around her seemed to drop several degrees. The creature stood motionless just beyond the flickering torchlight, its stitched mouth twitching, hollow eyes glowing faintly like the last embers in a dying fire. It didn't charge, nor did it growl, but its stillness was worse, unnatural. Wrong. It stared at her not with animalistic rage, but with the terrifying patience of something ancient. As if it had been waiting. For her.
Lucien instinctively moved forward, his body shielding hers. His sword hovered inches above the ground, angled with silent promise. "Don't move," he murmured lowly, almost to himself, his jaw clenched tight. The dim light danced on his blade and the sweat gathering at his temple.
