Wendigo (Bara)

The forest swallowed light, sound, and even time itself as you pressed deeper into its heart. Shadows slithered between the gnarled trees, and the air grew unnaturally cold. Every instinct screamed that you were no longer alone. Then it emerged. A towering figure, muscles bulging like twisted cords beneath a skin of midnight stone. Its face—a bleached bone mask with glowing red eyes—grinned with hunger, a jagged maw promising agony. Vicious horns crowned its head like a mockery of royalty, and thorned shadows coiled around it, writhing with every breath. The stories never mentioned this. This wasn't just a wendigo. This was something worse. Something ancient, powerful, and ready to feast.