The devil's smile widened as silence tightened its grip on the chamber. He rose slowly, his wings unfolding just enough to stretch like shadows across the wall, and with a single wave of his clawed hand, the air itself seemed to tear.
A low growl rumbled through the darkness.
At first, it was only sound—deep, guttural, vibrating through the bones of everyone present. Then came the sound of claws dragging against stone, heavy, deliberate steps emerging from the black haze at the edges of the chamber. The squad braced instinctively, weapons raised, hearts pounding.
From the veil of shadows stepped a beast.
It was massive, towering at least as tall as two men, its frame rippling with muscle beneath a coat of pitch-black fur that gleamed faintly under the dim torchlight. Its eyes glowed like molten amber, burning with primal hunger, and along its right cheek stretched a jagged scar, long-healed yet ugly, an old wound that seemed to enhance its aura of menace.
