In the depths of the shadowed realm, the Overseer sat atop his obsidian throne, gazing at the unfolding events in the world below with a mixture of intrigue and amusement.
His six arms, each radiating with a different form of dark energy, rested comfortably on the armrests as he watched Lyerin's actions through the ethereal veil.
Surrounding him, the smaller six-armed shadows hovered anxiously, their forms flickering in and out of existence, like phantoms not fully tethered to this reality.
"Impressive," the Overseer mused, his voice a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo across the very fabric of the universe.
His crimson eyes glowed with interest as he observed the spectacle of Lyerin binding the Minotaur spirit to the Stonehooves Tribe.
"That human... he's turned a fearsome beast into his Tribal Spirit. A Minotaur, no less. Not something easily tamed."
The smaller shadows shifted uncomfortably.
