Descarith kept secrets darker than its deepest shadows. Even so, its people had learned to survive the kingdom's grim past. The Kingless Kingdom, as it came to be known, was not without protectors: skilled hunters who dared to face the cruel things that lurked in the dark.
They were the Shadow Hunters, a brave few who walked into the kingdom's worst corners on purpose. They carried weapons they had forged themselves and skills sharpened over years of fighting. They were the last line between the people of Descarith and the creatures that came out of the shadows.
Those creatures were the Shadow Beasts, and they were malice given a body. Born of the same darkness that cloaked Descarith, they were twisted, grotesque things out of a nightmare. Bone and sinew fused into shapes that should not have held together, plated with jagged, obsidian-like scales that glistened in the dim light. Their eyes were deep pits of crimson, burning with a hunger for terror and despair that nothing could fill. Every Beast bristled with limbs: gnarled claws, razor-sharp fangs, and tendrils that writhed and reached.
Their powers were as bloodthirsty as they were vicious. A Beast could melt into the darkness around it and become nothing but an inky shadow, sliding across the ground and through the air. In that form it moved without a sound and struck from any direction. Almost no one saw it coming, and almost no one got out of the way.
Their touch brought a chill that sank straight into the bones and drained away every trace of warmth and hope. Anyone a Shadow Beast touched froze where they stood, pinned by dread. Their minds filled with nightmarish hallucinations built out of their own deepest fears.
Worse still, the Beasts were masters of deception. They could copy the voice and the face of someone you loved, lure you into the darkest corner of the kingdom, and only then show you what they really were.
Every encounter with a Shadow Beast was a fight to stay alive, and only the skill and nerve of the Shadow Hunters kept the kingdom standing. In the pitch-black night the hunters met these abominations wave after wave, knowing the fate of Descarith rode on it. The shadows hid more than the horrors of the past. They hid the ones coming to drown the kingdom in eternal darkness.