A lone figure emerges from the shadows of an ancient, crumbling temple. The Heretic stands tall, cloaked in darkness, their tattered robes billowing like misty curtains. Eyes aglow with an otherworldly intensity, they gaze into the abyss, as if conjuring forth malevolent forces. The air thickens with anticipation, heavy with the scent of decay and forgotten knowledge. The only sound is the soft whisper of ancient texts rustling in the wind, as if the very spirits of the damned are stirring.
