Despite its massive size, the Greywaren is a pliable thing. Wanda's magic captures it without the slightest resistance, and the creature's writhing shadows mold into the form she wills it. It can't simply stop feeding — it would bleed and evaporate into nothing without the energy that keeps it tethered to this world — but it stops drawing from the domain and turns its hunger to the very magic that's holding it prisoner.
It doesn't need very much when all it's doing is keeping still. The sparks of light between its unfathomable shadows flash less frequently as the storm compresses into a much more manageable form. It begins to look almost human-shaped.
Where am I?
The creature doesn't remember how to form words the way humans do. Regardless, because this is the Horizon, the question permeates the air as inarticulate yet tangible confusion.
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It doesn't need very much when all it's doing is keeping still. The sparks of light between its unfathomable shadows flash less frequently as the storm compresses into a much more manageable form. It begins to look almost human-shaped.
Where am I?
The creature doesn't remember how to form words the way humans do. Regardless, because this is the Horizon, the question permeates the air as inarticulate yet tangible confusion.