The Red Wolves
Deep within the underworld, an entirely different realm thrived—a primary plane just like the Eighth Earth and other earths, but home to a myriad of supernatural creatures.
This plane was a place of perpetual twilight, where beings like centaurs, minotaurs, harpies, gorgons, and gargoyles roamed freely under the dim glow of eerie stars.
These creatures coexisted in a world that was ancient, mystical, and dark, filled with powers and evils that rarely touched the surface world. Yet in this underworld, a new kind of malevolence was rising—one that had begun to take the plane by storm. Or at least, news of it.
A lone figure sprinted through the dense underworld forest, his breath ragged and heart pounding in his chest. He was a satyr, his hooves thudding against the damp, blackened earth as his twisted horns gleamed in the pale light of the underworld's moon. Behind him, closing in fast, were the Red Wolves—a pack of ruthless assassins.