The creature that lay sprawled before Lyerin was a nightmarish vision, one that would haunt even the most hardened souls.
She was grotesque in every sense of the word—her bloated body was at least three times the size of a truck, a swollen, pulsating mass of decaying flesh riddled with thick, black veins that coursed under her translucent skin like a network of diseased roots.
The veins throbbed and writhed as if something alive was crawling just beneath the surface. Her limbs were pitifully small and malformed, little more than vestigial stubs that twitched feebly, useless under the weight of her enormous body.
But it was her head, perched grotesquely atop this mound of flesh, that made Lyerin's stomach turn.
Gulp!
