Sienna sat upon her throne of eternal torment, the fused skeletons beneath her writhing and grinding in perpetual agony. Vertebrae twisted against one another with wet bone-on-bone screeches. Ribs flexed like dying lungs while skulls embedded in the structure clacked and gnashed, trying to tear themselves free, only to be violently stitched back by black nether threads.
She felt them four ancient broken presences stirred in the black lakes far below.
Nether portals tore open beneath the throne like fresh self-inflicted wounds — jagged rips bleeding thick steaming ropes of liquid darkness and sickly green death energy into the void.
From the first portal rose the Abyssal Drake.
Its colossal skull shattered the surface with a sickening crunch, jaw splitting violently wider than its own skull should allow, bone and sinew grinding before snapping back into a crooked painful alignment.
