Malcolm stood rigid as the towering abomination loomed before them. Tristan's voice quavered with an unfamiliar note of terror as he struggled to name the vile entity.
"Belphegor... nay, something more ancient still. This is an Arcane malevolence not born of earthly realm..."
"How comes such a beast to dwell in the hills of Blackmoor?" Malcolm's mind reeled at the possibility.
His brother shuddered violently, and Malcolm detected the sickly-sweet perfume of pure, unmasked dread emanating from Tristan's coat.
The Alpha's countenance twisted with revulsion at the foul miasma enshrouding the shapeless horror.
"Speak plainly, brother. What foulness have we roused from its slumber?"
"In our ancestral scrolls, it is whispered that long before our world came to be, other... entities... dwel
