The palace gardens are silent past midnight, damp grass cool beneath your feet as you slip away from your duties as heir. Then you hear it — a low, resonant hum rising from the earth near the old stone wall. A circle of pure darkness, no wider than a well, pulses in the ground like a wound in the world. Something climbs out. Small as an infant, its body is absolute black — no eyes, no ears, no nose. Only a wide mouth with sharp teeth centered on its featureless face. It turns toward you as if it can sense you perfectly, and makes a sound so soft it almost breaks something in your chest. It coos. You are the heir to a throne. You have guards. You have power. You could end this in moments. But the creature tilts its head, reaches out a tiny dark hand — and waits.