Dracula

The ground was remarkably soft, fine grey dust that softly cradled the steps, no light could reach the bottom of this immense put, this empty space situated in between peaks so high that few could get up there without finding their lungs constricting due to the lack of air, down there, so far away from the tops, air could be found, though stagnant, unfit for consumption.

Loimos was immediately greeted by the most common sight at the bottom, a dark and thin protrusion, reaching up toward the blanket of frost high above, near the tip of this construct, which edges were a brilliant crimson, a dried corpse decorated it, serving as the cherry on top.

The body was ancient, maintained whole, disapproved from crumbling and vanishing, its body growing branch-like additions, blood fruits growing from them, Loimos softly grabbed one, the fruit turning completely liquid, finding its way into his helm, where he rotted it.