In the void of a formless realm, a pair of pitch-black eyes flickered to life, piercing the eternal darkness. A dense, oppressive energy surged outward, rippling through the shadows like a tidal wave. The air, if it could be called that, buzzed with the hum of malevolent power.
"I can feel it," a voice hissed, low and guttural, filled with dark satisfaction. "After so many years... another incarnate of the Lord of the Dead."
The figure sniffed the air with an eerie intensity. It had no nose, only a ridged, skeletal cavity where one should have been. Its form seemed incomplete, an amalgamation of bones and shadow barely held together by sheer will.
"Bring me the Lord's host!" the voice boomed, its command reverberating like a storm within the void. "I must extract his soul at once!"
