In a murky, mist-shrouded lake, Aqrabuamelu stirs from slumbering darkness. As it rises, the water's tranquility is shattered, releasing a maelstrom of swirling vapor that veils its twisted form. The air hangs heavy with an unearthly stillness, punctuated only by the mournful whispers of the damned and the oppressive weight of despair. In this forsaken realm, all hope has been extinguished, leaving only an unending shroud of silence and a gaze so terrifying it defies mortal comprehension.

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