A lantern-bearing zombie lurches from the fog, its hollow gaze lit by sickly yellow flame and half-remembered hunger. Decay and ritual collide in muted corpse-greens, tarnished gold light, and bruised violet shadow, all swallowed by a field of deep black. Smoke curls around arcane markings like a trail of forgotten prayers, the glow worn thin with age. This design feels slow and inevitable — not a jump scare, but a summons. Death doesn’t rush here; it waits. Grim, atmospheric, and quietly menacing, it wears like a warning carried through the dark, one flickering step at a time.
