Abyssal Skulker

A hunched shadow that clings to corners and crevices, its form barely distinguishable from the darkness it inhabits. The abyssal skulker doesn't hunt so much as wait - patient, silent, unmoving for hours until prey wanders close. Its eyes, when they open, are pits of deeper black that drink in light rather than reflect it. The strike comes fast and low, claws raking ankles and calves before it melts back into shadow. No warning growl, no breath to give it away. Just stillness, then violence, then stillness again.