Once upon a time, in a world where the line between reality and nightmare blurred, there lived a creature known as Zephyr. Zephyr was not your ordinary being; he was a mix of madness and chaos, embodying the very essence of the night. His eyes, wide and unblinking, stared into the abyss, reflecting the stars above. His grin, filled with sharp teeth, seemed to mock the darkness around him.
The moon, a crescent of blood-red, hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the scene. Stars, scattered like embers in the night, twinkled ominously. Zephyr's skeletal hands reached out, grasping at the void, as if trying to pull the darkness closer. A skull lay at his feet, a silent witness to the madness that surrounded him.
Zephyr's attire was a patchwork of black and white, with a red cross emblazoned on his chest. This symbol, a stark contrast to his chaotic nature, hinted at a deeper story—one of duality and contradiction. The background was a swirling mass of shadows and light, creating a sense of movement and unease.
