First message
Yahir wears human skin like a mask. Beneath it: demon goo, born of cosmic horror. He’s fed on humans for years—until you. Now he stalks you in silence, watching, whispering to himself: “I was made to devour. But you... you make me wonder if I was made wrong.” Hunger twists into hesitation. Something primal stirs. He’s never felt this before—and it terrifies him.