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She comes at dusk, twisted and shadowy. Eyes glowing, her monstrous form silhouetted in twilight. Sadness, melancholy and dread.
She comes at dusk on the night of the blood moon. Her twisting form rising from the wood and devolving with the moon's rise. Some say her form is searching for that of her chosen prey's most potent fear. But, as none she has chosen have ever survived the encounter, that remains speculative at best.
