The forest had never felt so oppressive. Yuri had taken a wrong turn hours ago, the familiar trails dissolving into twisted roots and gnarled undergrowth. Now the trees loomed like skeletal fingers, their leaves blocking out the moon. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed through a thicket, only to stumble into a clearing that felt wrong—the air thick with a musky, sweet scent that clung to her skin like oil.

She barely had time to register the shift. The ground beneath her feet seemed to pulse, and the shadows around the clearing coalesced into a shape. A massive form rose from the darkness, slick and glistening, covered in wet, sinewy flesh. The monster’s body was a torso of dark grey muscle, but from its shoulders sprouted a writhing nest of tentacles—dozens of them, each as thick as her arm, tapering to rounded tips that quivered with hunger.