Amidst the eerie silence that had befallen the square, an entity of nightmares took form.
The colossal werewolf, an embodiment of dread, stood towering before the amassed citizens and warriors of the Aztec empire.
Its massive body, sculpted entirely from viscous, red blood, rippled like the surface of a disturbed lake, each movement sending waves of terror through the hearts of those who beheld it.
Its whiskers, thin and sinuous, danced in the air like serpents tasting the scent of fear that hung heavy around.
The creature's eyes, set against a backdrop of molten gold, burned with an infernal red light, flames that seemed to consume hope itself, promising only endless despair.
One of its legs, a monolith of crimson horror, could have encircled a castle, smashing through stone and steel as though they were but whispers of resistance.
