The mind-boggling depths within those cursed eyes aimed to lure Moulin into the endless darkness. They are deep red—the color of blood, satisfied with imminent doom. Even the air around the demon seemed dead, devoid of life. Moulin felt as though his soul was thrown back in time where this creature kept tailing him, speaking things he could not understand. The curse of his resurrection and the reason behind it all.
Within the desolate area, snatched away from hope and life, Moulin felt the lingering life source within the Treant's mangle bodies. They slithered within their cores, holding unto the bit of hope left within them. They could not accept perishing from failing their task. Their master awaits them. He needs to be protected.
Nyello~
Moumou's pounding meat. Does Lord Lion want to join?