A tall, monstrous icy creature with skeletal features, antlers, and sharp ice claws stands in a snowy, dark forest. Dark fantasy illustration.

The creature stood just beyond the tree line, half-shrouded in mist — but even the fog seemed afraid to touch it. It was tall. Easily ten feet, maybe more. Its body was made of things that had no business being alive: tangled roots, frozen bone, sinew strung with frost. Its torso cracked when it shifted slightly — not like joints moving, but like a glacier groaning under pressure. Chunks of ice clung to its ribs, fused into its form, reflecting pale moonlight with eerie clarity. Its arms hung too low, nearly dragging across the snow, ending in long, jagged claws — not nails, not talons, but shards of glacial crystal, so clear they bent the light around them. Each one hummed faintly, vibrating like glass under strain. But its face was the worst part. It didn’t have eyes — not in the way anything living should. Instead, there were hollow sockets, frozen black and filled with slowly swirling snow. A mouth stretched impossibly wide beneath, full of teeth made entirely of ice: clear, jagged, layered in rows like shark jaws, with mist curling between them like the thing was always exhaling winter. From its back stretched what looked like antlers, massive and gnarled, but twisted like tree branches gripped by frost. Snowflakes seemed to cling to them in mid-air, never falling, held by some unnatural force. See more