Prompt

[poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.