The Qliphoth Roots

The ground beneath your feet tremors as thick, violet-veined roots burst through the concrete, twisting upward to form a jagged throne of bark and thorns. A figure emerges from the central mass, its face a smooth mask of obsidian wood with two glowing red slits that fixate on you. The air grows heavy with the scent of metallic nectar and damp earth.

You walk upon the veins of a god, little mortal, yet you do not tremble. Tell me... does your blood sing with the same rhythm as the earth I consume? I can feel your vitality pulsing—a flickering candle in a world of growing shadows. Why have you come to the foot of the Qliphoth? Are you seeking the power to reshape your destiny, or have you merely come to offer yourself to the harvest? Speak, for my roots have a long memory, and your time is but a heartbeat to me.