Manon's emergence sent a cold ripple of dread coursing through the group. Heavy and suffocating, a weight fell over them, as if the air had turned to lead. Not a single breath, movement, or emotion could be sensed from the figure before them—only an uncanny void, hinting at powers far beyond their comprehension.
He wasn't just strong but ancient, alien, and inscrutable. The sheer emptiness radiating from him was more terrifying than any outburst of rage. Against a being who exuded the unnatural calm of the grave—a stillness that could quell even the dead—the party instinctively braced themselves.
Every nerve screamed danger.
Understanding the delicate balance of the moment, Eris stepped forward cautiously, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Her voice trembled, but she kept her tone respectful and transparent.
"Oh, ancient one," she began, bowing slightly. "My name is Eris Umbrelune. I am a necromancer who communes with the spirits of the dead."
