The night was as silent as death, eerily quiet.
A pale crescent moon hung in the sky, casting its cold, hazy moonlight on a small, gravel road. One end of the road seemed to connect to the chaotic darkness of nothingness, while the other led to a shadowy town in the distance.
From within the town, occasional ethereal whispers could be heard, as if something was constantly expressing its hatred towards "life." The air was filled with an extreme sense of greed and hunger, as if the entire space longed for the bodies and blood of living beings, yearning to suck their marrow, snatch their vitality, and devour their souls...
A honeylocust tree by the side of the road had lost its original green hue, appearing more like a gaunt old crone. The 'old crone' stood by the roadside, reaching out her twisted and monstrous arms, begging for alms from the passing travelers.
