The echo of those footsteps devoured the silence, filling the cold air of the cell block with a dread so sharp Sezel could hardly breathe. The beast entered, about two meters tall, its body twisted from darkness, every movement a chill crawling down the spine.
The beast halted at the entrance of the cell area. Its figure looming in shadows.
Tip! Tip! Tip!
Black blood trickled from its scythes on both hands, echoing like drops falling in a still pond. The heavy stench of that black blood filling the surroundings.
Sezel gulped the dry knot in his throat, breathing slowly and subtly, not allowing any kind of noise.
Sezel pressed himself deeper between the cells, every muscle cramped and locked, breath shallow. From his narrow vantage, he caught a clear glimpse of the abomination: arms ending in blade-like scythes, both stained, still wet with the ichor.
