'Something is wrong... why do I feel threatened? And the thing that's about to come out of that cave–could it be...'
If anyone could see her face beneath the mask, they'd notice a rare crease of worry.
Then it happened "...?"
---
Suddenly, the space around the mouth of the black cave cracked as two long, dried bony hands–each with four sharp claws–shot out as if trying to tear the cave apart. Time seemed to pause. Morca, standing directly in front of the black cave, felt the world still around him. He couldn't move.
The air grew suffocating. The claws moved with a speed so fast it seemed illusory, a blur of black aura trailing behind them as they shot straight toward Morca's head–like they intended to tear him to shreds.
No movement–no escape. In that moment, the space around him was sealed, locked tight. All he could do was think, helplessly, as the sharp, deadly claws drew closer. Cold sweat trickled down his spine.
