The Maw of the Spiral Abyss. - Dragged toward the churning mouth of a cosmic spiral, lesser horrors circle like carrion hounds, while the Harbinger towers over the void as both gatekeeper and executioner.

The air itself convulsed as the spiral opened, a vortex of color too vivid to belong to any mortal spectrum. Around its edges, shadows grew teeth, dragging themselves into snarling forms that circled and shrieked with hunger. But even they bowed, however unwillingly, before the Harbinger. It loomed beside the whirling abyss, a thing of roots and tendrils, bone and nightmare, its eyes lit with the sickly glow of dying galaxies. Each movement bent the laws of matter, distorting the void into grotesque geometries. The spiral was not merely a passage but a hunger, and those who stared too long into its depths felt themselves unravel, strand by strand, thought by thought. The Harbinger’s claw extended, not to strike but to usher—herding the damned into the spiral’s mouth like a shepherd of annihilation. There was no salvation here, only the slow realization that this was not an end but a return to the chaos that had birthed all things.