An hour had passed, and the moon now hung fully in the sky, its pale light casting a ghostly glow across the clearing. The silvery beams seemed sharper, more menacing, illuminating every shadow with an unsettling clarity. The air felt heavy with power, thick and charged with an unnatural energy that made the hair on Lara's arms stand on end.
Thana’s minions, creatures born of darkness and ancient curses, stirred from the edges of the clearing. Their twisted forms emerged from the shadows, hunched and grotesque, their eyes gleaming with a sickly yellow light. They moved like shadows themselves, their elongated limbs barely making a sound as they gathered in a wide circle around the altar where Lara lay bound. The eerie quiet that had lingered over the clearing was shattered by their sudden, discordant noise—a grotesque symphony of guttural growls, snarls, and hisses.
It was as if they were celebrating the arrival of the full moon, their voices rising in twisted, manic glee. They swayed
