A Demon Emerging from the Vientre

In the cold hush of an austere bedchamber, she stands before an antique full-length mirror, observing her own bare form with quiet scrutiny.

As the dim light washes over her skin, an unsettling realization chills her marrow: faint, branching dark runes—like bruised veins or blackened roots—have etched themselves across her breasts and collarbones, whispering of an intruder stirring just beneath the surface.