The moon cast an eerie glow across the snowy forest, bathing everything in silver light. Shadows stretched and danced around the towering treant, whose massive, root-like beard swayed with each step.
The ancient creature, a guardian of the woods, seemed to exude its own chilling aura, filled with intelligence and malice. Alicarde tightened his grip on Marian, cradling her protectively as he assessed the battlefield.
"These witches are supposed to be exhausted," he muttered.
"How the hell are they managing to pull off something like this?"
The treant wasn't like Adonis's mindless golems. No, this creature was keen, its hollow eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.
Alicarde could feel the pulsating energy radiating from it, powerful and ancient.
'Whatever magic this is,Malefica had better teach it to me.'
The witches below caught sight of him, casting spells that shimmered in the moonlight.