The night was as dark as ink. Deep in the dense forest at Cragfall, the air was thick with an overwhelming stench of rot.
The wind rustled through the treetops, making a shushing sound, occasionally mixed with a shrill beastly roar that sounded especially spine-chilling in the pitch-black night.
Several shadows crept quietly toward the bottom of the cliff, heading for Umbraflow, taking advantage of the night.
At the front, a Beastman from The Raging Lion Tribe lowered his voice, vigilance etched on his face as he whispered to his companions behind him, "Stay sharp, this place is seriously messed up."
No sooner had he said this than the earth under his feet suddenly gave way—a pitch-black snake tail whipped out, coiling around his legs and yanking him into the toxic, churning waters of Umbraflow at lightning speed.
"Ah..."
A ghastly scream split the night sky in an instant.
