The night was hushed, save for the distant call of an owl and the harsh whisper of the wind. The moon's light cast a faint glow over the mountaintop.
A figure stood there, gazing down at the kingdom below. It was late, and only a few souls remained awake, while lambs grazed restlessly.
His lips curled into a sneer as he watched them intently, his dark form slowly evaporating into a black smoke. With a raised hand, the smoke billowed forth from his body, sweeping towards the unsuspecting kingdom below.
It surged forward with relentless force, and for those unlucky enough to be outside, it spelled certain doom. The approaching smoke threatened to extinguish every shred of life it encountered.
As the smoke completed its grim task, the figure nonchalantly tapped his finger, summoning it back to him. With a swift inhalation, the smoke vanished, and he disappeared into the night.
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