Rising proudly from its brow were three distinct, jagged horns that curved backward in a menacing, crown-like alignment.
The central horn was the largest, its surface etched with faint, glowing purple runes that hummed with the residual frequencies of high-tier binding arrays, marking him undeniably as the supervisor Tara had spoken about during her explanations.
He was clad in a long cloak which was made up of the shadow, oozing dark smoke at the edges in lazy, continuous streams that pooled around his bare, pale ankles.
The garment was like a living piece of darkness, a semi-fluid fabric that constantly shifted and undulating as if it possessed a primitive, hungry consciousness of its own.
Whenever the entity shifted his weight, the hem of the cloak would fray into small wisps of gray vapor, only to instantly regenerate by drawing upon the ambient background radiation of the vault.
