The shadow moved closer to Morvane, its form shifting and twisting unnaturally in the moonlit clearing. It seemed to ripple as though it were made of liquid darkness, stretching and compressing in unpredictable ways. Slowly, the figure took on a more defined shape, its outline sharpening and sharpening, until it formed a startlingly familiar appearance. Morvane's heart began to pound in his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he realized who—or rather, what—it was. His eyes widened in shock, the air around him growing heavier as the shadow's figure solidified. The stance, the colors, and the posture were unmistakable. The silhouette was so eerily familiar that it sent a cold shiver crawling up his spine.
"Drevon?" Morvane whispered, his voice trembling, though he tried to mask the fear creeping into his chest.