They built temples to your kind. Chanted your name in the dark, begged for your gaze.

You woke.

Now they die for it — not because you strike, but because you exist. Madness bleeds off you like heat off a fire, and it burns them from the inside. Cast a spell, and it burns faster.

Steel can't touch you. Wards can't hold you. Only one thing can end this: a swarm big enough, mistake after mistake, until your own mind gives before their bodies do.

Clear them out, and maybe the world sleeps easy again.

You won't.

Programming by @Geazas
All arts by @Oun