It began with fingers.
Thin, splintered bones, some too long to be human, pierced the surface of the black water and clawed at the air with slow, deliberate purpose. Rotten torsos followed, dragging themselves upright, limbs jerking in unnatural rhythms. Armor clung to some of them, ancient, corroded, yet still whispering of long-dead empires.
Dozens emerged.
Then hundreds.
They came in waves, endless soldiers, beasts, hybrids of both.
Some had rusted weapons still fused to their skeletal hands, others held blades crackling with faint necrotic sparks, preserved by the death energy that had steeped into their marrow. One dragged a rusted siege hammer with a crater still lodged in the head.
Then came the twisted horrors.
